Blog! Hooh! Good, God Y'all! What is it Good For?

Absolutely nothing, according to some people.

Why do I blog? What is it that makes me pour out personal details and witty thoughts all over the incredibly public pages of the internet? What good comes of it? Aren't I putting myself at risk? Aren't I wasting my time?

I don't think so. I love blogging. It has been, for the last eight months or so, one of my favorite pursuits. Since March I've gained a couple hundred readers and met (cyber-wise) dozens of people I never would have otherwise. I've developed (not to perfection, but significantly) my "voice" as a writer. I've started a novel, worked on a screenplay, and spent a large number hours writing that I would have spent in front of the TV. Doesn't sound like a waste to me.

What about offending people? Hogwash! Yes, I just said "hogwash!" I don't say anything in my blogs about anyone that I wouldn't say to their face. That's sort of my philosophy for the way I treat people period. If I don't like someone, chances are very good that they know it. Life is FAR too short for any wasted time. I don't waste time on things I don't enjoy, and I don't waste time talking to, thinking about or faking interest in people I don't like. Besides, if I don't like them, it's likely that they don't like me, so why would they be reading my blog anyway? This "Don't write it, if you wouldn't say it" rule also applies for employers, family members, and Mrs. Rogue.

Speaking of the lovely little woman, doesn't Ella hate it when you mention her in your blogs? No, not really. She does hate showy and unnecessary displays of affection (whether online or in-life), so don't do those. She knows how I feel about her, I know how she feels about me and that's good enough for us. If I want to write something that I think she might mind me writing, I ask her about it first. She married a writer. I don't think she expected him to completely avoid using her personality or actions in his writings.

What about your family? Don't they mind being poked fun at? Again, these folks knew what they were getting into. I've been making good-hearted jokes at the expense of my mom, dad, sisters and brother for about 25 years now. Someday I hope to make a good living doing it, and I guarantee you none of my family will have a problem reaping the benefits of having a successful writer in the family. That said, I don't air out grievances online instead of talking to them directly. I don't try (indeed, I try not) to hurt people's feelings. Just like with Ella, if there's something I'd like to write about but think that it might bother a family member, I'll put that on the back burner until I've talked to them about it.

What about your job? Won't you get fired? Not from the companies I would want to work for. I'm not outrageous in the things I say about the workplace. I'm don't slander my supervisors or belittle my co-workers. I say funny things (generally true things) about my experience in an interesting industry. Nobody gets hurt. Nobody is getting fired.

Do I have delusions of grandeur? Well, that's up for debate. I do think I'm pretty freakin' funny, but I have quite a few people who'd back me up on that one. I also think I'll make it (eventually) as a writer. I know that I have to earn a paycheck until the royalty checks start rolling in, and I'm not planning on quitting my day job anytime soon. I'm just a guy that likes to spend (some of) his free time writing silly things to share with his friends (and fans). That is, the time he doesn't spend playing the Wii. So why do I do it? It makes me feel good. I've always been a glory hound, and this is one way I can get some praise and feel that it is actually deserved. I'm a creative guy, and this gives me an outlet.

Now, the question many of you might be asking is "Where the heck did this tirade come from?" Nowhere in particular. I did read an article the other day deriding bloggers and their "self-important air," that sort of ticked me off. I admit I felt led to defend myself, but then again, I'm not even sure I consider myself a blogger. I'm just an editorialist without a newspaper. Yeah, let's go with that one. That's gonna be hard to fit on a business card though.

Tayadore Goosel and the Big Booboo

For those just joining the party, you might want to check out my previous workplace blogs, "The Man that Changed My Life, Tayadore Goosel", "Tayadore Goosel Has Left the Building", and "Tayadore Goosel 3: The Return of Stupid"

I am a man that does not like to make or admit mistakes, but I made a big one Monday night. Every Monday night from 6 to 8pm I run a Texas music show with a great artist by the name of Monty Russell as my co-host. This is a great show and one of my favorite parts of my job, as it's the only time I get to choose the music we play.

"Texas Music," for the uninitiated, is a broad title applied to pretty much any "alternative" country style. This includes: Americana - think Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young , Johnny Cash or Rodney Crowell; Red Dirt - think Cross Canadian Ragweed, or The Randy Rogers Band; Texas Swing - think Asleep at the Wheel; Outlaw Country - think Willie and Waylon or David Alan Coe; as well as Roots Music - think blues, bluegrass, and swamp-pop. This show does not include singers like Tim McGraw or Kenny Chesney. It does include people like Jim Lauderdale, Radney Foster, Ray Wylie Hubbard and Hank Williams III.

Some of these singers and songwriters can be pretty frank. The music styles we play occasionally contain explicit lyrics (in subject matter and language). Of course like any non-satellite radio station we are governed by the FCC's standards and practices. Profanity, and vulgarity are not okay. This is where my booboo comes in.

At about 7 o'clock, we got a request for a Hank Williams III song. It's called, "Not Everybody Likes Us." The album contains explicit lyrics, and is marked accordingly but there are several songs on the album that have been released for radio play and are "clean." Monty and I have listened to the album before and verified the "clean" songs. We both were "fairly" certain this song was one of the ones that we had checked off as okay. It was not. Two minutes into the song, ole Hank lets loose with the big one, a word (that while humorous in a Bruce Willis action flick) is a big no-no on country radio. As Ralphie from "A Christmas Story" puts it, "I said Fudge. Only I didn't say FUDGE. I said THE word, the mother of all swear words." Yep, Hank III dropped the F-bomb on my family radio station last night. Whoops.

We only got one complaint, and I apologized profusely for it, directly to her, and again on the air. I immediately called my boss and let him know what had happened, and left a note for my program director. This morning I apologized again to both of them, and the salesperson that is responsible for the accounts that sponsor the show. So far, everyone has been really understanding and not given me a lot of grief about it. I'm definitely not the first person who has played something they shouldn't have, and I won't be the last. It is however incredibly embarrassing, and a little nerve wracking. I don't know all the legalities, and last night that had me worried. I sort of felt like a criminal, and all I did was play a less-than-kosher song on the radio. Howard Stern I am not.

The point of all of this (other than soliciting a little sympathy) is to say if in a couple of days I start writing four or five blogs a day, know that I have been fired for my booboo and have now taken up writing blogs as my only occupation (that is very unlikely to happen). Or, if in a couple of days I have stopped writing blogs, reading and commenting on blogs or responding to emails know that I have been fired for my booboo and am now employed double time at McDonald's and The Waffle House (this is slightly more likely to happen).

As an employee, I feel mortified that I screwed up on the job and could cause some negative financial repercussions for my employer. As an artist, I'm a little exhilarated having just taken on "the man" for the first time. **Note**: I didn't really take on "the man" as it was unintentional in the first place, I stopped once I realized I was doing something wrong, and "the man" was not informed of my attack **End of Note**. Still, if I'm a famous writer in five years I'm totally going to embellish this story and use it as a credibility builder.

Women are Absolutely Insane...

...But they are also often right.

I know women. I was raised by one (two, really, if you count my grandmother). I have two as sisters, I have dated several, married one and (while I can't personally vouch for it) I believe I was birthed by one. The fairer sex is a completely different animal than men. In fact, at times I am astounded that we can actually mate, without creating some sort of tragic mutant.

Men are simple creatures. We require few things, food, drink, big screen TV's with sports programming, and the occasional physical affection, mostly in that order of importance. Other than the aforementioned TV, we generally don't care or worry about home decor. It exists only as a place to sit, put stuff down, or prop your feet up. The correct Feng shui placement of the sofa and the dining room table doesn't even register to us as something we should care about.

Women (even the really cool, less crazy ones) are a completely different story. During the 18 years that I lived in my mother and father's home, we had at least 50 different furniture arrangements. All of them were perfectly acceptable. The first four or five times I was called upon to lug a sofa across the living room (or even worse across the house) I thought, "Ah, Mom has some master plan for the house that isn't clear to me. Obviously she has discerned a problem with the current placement and is rectifying the situation to achieve most efficient house flow." Nope. She just got bored with where stuff was.

I've been married a little over two years now. I know that I am the first person ever in the history of humankind to get married so I feel like I have to share the knowledge I've gained in that time for the benefit of those that come after me. The last two years has been like an extended documentary on the discovery channel, but with more throw pillows.

As women go, mine's pretty normal. She's not big into makeup or high heels. She likes me in a t-shirt and shorts as much as (if not more than) dressed up. She's not overly emotional (I'm the girl in that regard), and she lets me pursue my hobbies (ie. writing this and playing video games). However, she did not completely escape the inherited loonyness of her gender. She also falls prey to the illogical need to rearrange.

We got married and moved into our first house in July of 2004. We moved out of that house in June of 2005. In that year she changed the furniture at least five separate times. The palette she had to work on was pretty miniscule too. The house was (maybe) nine hundred square feet and was divided into one long room combining kitchen, dining, and living areas, and two bedrooms separated by a bathroom. You'd think that in such a small space, there'd be at most two or three different ways to get everything to fit. But Ella managed twice that many variations. No sooner did I get used to a particular setup than I'd come home from work to "the look." The look that says, "I know that your feeble brain is pleased with the fact that nothing is between your recliner and the television, but that's not enough for me. Higher beings need more stimulus in their environments, and since my powerful brain has enabled my musculature to weaken, I'll be using you for manual labor for the next several hours. Wheee!"

This past Sunday morning started normally enough. I awoke a little more than an hour before Ella did. I spent the hour playing Madden '07 on my new prize possession, the Nintendo Wii (not to be confused with the expression of joy used in the previous paragraph), then I settled in for an afternoon of football. Ella generally doesn't mind me watching football on Sundays and I generally try to keep it to a game and a half or so. Sunday, the Saints were facing a tough Atlanta team to try to maintain a lead in their division and so my wife (being the sympathetic and loving woman she is) pretty much left me alone until late in the fourth quarter. By that point the Saints were way ahead and it was obvious that Atlanta would not be making a comeback. That's when she sprung it on me.
"I want to rearrange."

"Sure, babe. The game is almost over and then I'll help you. What exactly do you want to move?"

At this point I was thinking, the TV from that wall to the other, or the dining room table from horizontal to diagonal. Something simple. I was thinking simple, until she answered,

"Everything."

That was not what I had in mind for my Sunday. But, I'm a good husband. I try very hard to do as much as I can for Ella, because I know deep down I don't deserve her. If I keep doing nice stuff for her, maybe she won't notice she's too good for me.

"Everything, huh? Like...everything?"

"Like making the front room the TV room, making the TV room the office, making the office the dining room, and cleaning up everything else."

"So, everything. Okay, it'll just be a couple of more minutes."

As I've already said, the game was pretty much over, and I had actually planned on getting up immediately to help her with whatever she was coming to talk to me about, but knowing that I would spend the rest of my Sunday lugging furniture suddenly made the final three minutes of a blowout game very, very important.

We did indeed move everything (thanks to an assist from our friend Kellen, and my Brother-in-law, Chase). The new location of the TV is one that Ella had suggested the day we moved into our house, and I had flatly refused. The room was just too long in my opinion. It would make my TV look small, and the acoustics would be all wrong for surround sound. Boy, was I wrong. Not only does the TV look just as big (if not actually bigger), the surround sound is actually more balanced in its new location. We now have more room to play the Wii, more seating room, and a much cooler (and cleaner) office. Oh, and we got our dining room table back, but I'll probably cover that in junk within a day or two.

Women are assuredly crazy, and mine is no exception. But they are also pretty smart. I bow to your superior intellect and decorative skills, Ella. I'll gladly admit when I'm wrong, especially if it leads to a superior movie watching experience, and the physical affection doesn't hurt.

Dime Store Candy Causes Riot in Small Southern Town

I like candy. Well, that's not really true. I like two kinds of candy. Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (that counts as candy right?) and Sweettarts. Sure those may be the only sweets I like, but I like them a great deal. I would not however trample other people to get them. Nor would I stand for several hours only for the chance to yell at a passing vehicle in the hopes that the driver might throw me some of my favorite candies. Apparently I am alone with these standards in North Louisiana.

Working for the radio station (you people did read my bio, right?) I sometimes have to make public appearances. These are often for broadcasting from a special sale (which is awesome 'cause I get paid big bucks for talent fee), sometimes I do call-ins to the station from a concert in the area (which is awesome, 'cause I get to see a concert for free and sometimes meet the artists), other times, I ride around in a van with our call letters on the side throwing cheap candy at crazed locals (not so awesome, 'cause, well, I figure it's self explanatory). Saturday I did that last one.

I was accompanied by my good friend and fellow DJ, Andrei. Dre (which is his street name) for those that don't know him, is originally from Romania (that's right ladies and gentlemen, the only Romanian working in country music). Even though he has been in the states for almost twenty years, he still finds immense pleasure in the small idiosyncrasies of American life (I chalk this up to the fact that he lived under a brutal dictatorial regime before coming to America. Democracy wins again!). The parade was no different.

I won't say what town the parade was in, but it was the official kickoff for their Christmas celebration. They light the whole town, have a Santa House in the middle of town, do carriage rides, the whole nine yards. The parade is the starter pistol for their yuletide celebrations. Judging from the crowds we saw in this minute little town, these people take their Christmas very seriously.

There were barricades to hold back the crowds in most places (I scoffed at this at first, but after the first turn I realized without them the crowds would probably flip the van in their quest for candy. While Ruston also hosts a Christmas parade (a little closer to the Holiday) the numbers attending this (much smaller) town's parade dwarfed those of Ruston. The parade itself was also significantly longer as everyone with four wheels, a motor and a platform to stand or sit on seemed to be in the parade. One wonders how there were people left to attend.

By the end of the ordeal I was disgusted and a little drained. My compatriot, however, was energized and pleased. Apparently they feed those Romanians fairy dust and wishes. Here now without further ado...

Differences between Andrei, the Romanian, and Joel, the Drunken Rogue While Riding in a Parade

1. The Drunken Rogue locks a fake smile into place only to be interrupted by the occasional awe-struck look as the townspeople beat each other into submission for "Strawberry Chews." The Romanian is constantly surprised (and pleased) by the excitement of the parade goers, he not only wears a big silly grin, but accompanies it with yuletide greetings. I didn't even know they had Christmas in Romania.

2. The Drunken Rogue becomes a candy throwing machine (mostly to satiate the bursting crowd) ripping bags in two as he hurls handful after handful into the mob. The Romanian gingerly throws a carefully picked bunch every few seconds, but accompanies the throw with vocal flair "Yah!" or "THERE YOU GO!" or occasionally even, "Happy Christmas Parade Day!" It is literally a miracle the Rogue didn't kill him somewhere along the parade route.

3. The Drunken Rogue takes turns widely, trying to center both himself and Dre between the barricades. He hurls the candy with Herculean power reaching not only the crowd, but the back rows of spectators. The Romanian finds it difficult to throw (even his small handfuls of candy) further than a few feet. Mostly he leaves piles and piles of candy just this side of the barricade resulting in unhappy children, and at least one accident as an overzealous parade-goer could not resist the lure of the "Peach Chews" and leapt the security barricade only to be crushed by the Shriner Mobile following us. Tragic really.

4. With only five minutes left on the parade route the van suffers two setbacks: we run out of candy (probably because Dre has left so much on the side of the road and not in the hands of parade goers) and our speaker system goes on the fritz leaving us tuneless. The Drunken Rogue is calm and cool in the face of this adversity, continuing to wave and smile except at the hecklers who receive a quick flip of the Christmas bird (it's just like the regular bird you flip, only at Christmas time). The Romanian crumbles under the pressure, actually exiting the van at one point to beg forgiveness of the crowd for running out of candy. He's lucky I had my stun gun and riot gear to get him out of the crowd or they might have crucified him.

5. After leaving the parade route, the Drunken Rogue immediately suggests stopping for some greasy fast food, needing to knock out the faux-holiday spirit with some processed red meat and cholesterol. The Romanian thinks we should head back to the house where we'll bake sugar cookies in the shape of snowmen, and share our feelings on the Christmas season before we sing our favorite carols. Pansy.

You are all safe for the next year, but if you happen to find yourself in a small North Louisiana town next Christmas season, amidst the rampaging, candy hungry crowd, let's hope you have better back up than a Romanian.

This Blog Has Nothing to Do With the Impending Holiday

The title of this blog is a lie. It was my attempt at a clever joke. It was ill-conceived and executed and I'm already sorry for it. I apologize. The blog is quite good though, so please, continue.

I am ridiculously lucky. For a moment let's forget about the fact that there are literally millions of places all over the world I could have been born where I would be subjected to genocide, starvation, tribal warfare, oppression from the ruling party, lack of freedom because of a dictatorial regime etc. Let's just look at how fortunate I am as compared to some of my fellow countrymen.

My parents are still (somewhat) happily married after 26 years together. I have a sister who (while bothersome at times) is neither a drug abuser, nor likely to end up in an abusive relationship. I have an older brother who has chased his dreams and always encouraged me to do the same. My older sister is the definition of hilarious, and her three beautiful children are some of my favorite people in the world (the oldest one even has good taste in blogs). My parents have always made enough (if not boatloads) of money. I've never been hungry a single day in my life. I've had access to education, freedom of mobility (as well as the opportunity to travel). I've been in good health my entire life, and unless you count crazy, have no disabilities.

I'm very thankful for all of those things. I'm thankful for a lot, and since the only time I get a pass on sentimentality from Mrs. Rogue is during the holidays I'm letting it roll today. I'll do the sappy first, then go into the serious, and we'll wrap it up with the silly, might as well go out on a funny note. Here goes... I'm thankful for

Sappy

Ella -- She is the best companion I could ever ask for. She's smart, funny, fun, and willing to let me be ridiculous (check the blog about my midnight search for the Nintendo Wii for details). More than anything else she helps me be a better me. This is different than making me a better man, Ella isn't out to change me, she just wants to clean me up and make me presentable.

My Family -- This includes the new additions over the last couple of years (Sara Claire, I'm looking in your direction). They are, in equal measure, incredible and infuriating. But they are mine. The knowledge that no matter what Ella and I do in life, we will always have a support system to fall back is a big reason why we both have such high hopes and expectations.

Belief in God -- Let's set aside for a minute the question of whether or not there is a God. I'm not trying to debate that with any of you. I believe in God, and it makes my life infinitely more livable. I couldn't (or at least can't imagine being able to) get through the day without the comforting and consoling hand of God. I've got the utmost respect for Atheists, 'cause I don't know how they get out of bed in the morning.

Serious

A Comfortable Job -- Most people work for living. I understand that babies don't exactly pull their weight, and there are those that can't (and many that won't) provide for themselves. There are also those that fate and luck have provided with the means necessary to sit on their haunches. For the rest of us, we have to do something in order to pay those ever present bills. I'm a DJ and I am more aware than most that there are a myriad of jobs I could have that would be more stressful, painful, and less financially rewarding...alright maybe not too many less financially rewarding but still. It's a good job. Ella and I are beginning to plan the next stages in our careers and while I look forward to things like benefits, I'm thankful for what I've got.

A Good Boss -- I've written about my first boss here at the radio station before, but I haven't given my new boss enough praise. He is always open for suggestions, as well as incredibly accommodating for scheduling problems. He adds to the laid-back, comfortable atmosphere at my office, instead of completely destroying it like my last boss did. I've had good, I've had bad. Good is significantly better.

24 Hour a Day Fast Food -- Nope, you didn't skip down to the silly section, although this one might seem silly to most of you. I'm incredibly thankful for the 24 hour a day culture we live in. As a kid with bizarre eating habits, I often found myself hungry on holidays. It's only in the last few years that even the big two, Christmas and Thanksgiving, find at least a few McDonald's or Burger King's open. I'm glad my families (birth and by marriage) are excellent cooks, but their food just isn't for me. So this holiday especially, I'm thankful for the Golden Arches.

Silly

DVD's -- I bought my first DVD in the fall of my second year in college. Since then I have amassed somewhere in the neighborhood of seven hundred. I wrote that number out instead of putting in numerals, because it doesn't look quite so atrocious that way. I've spent more on movies than most people do on their college educations. But that money is all going to good use, as sooner or later I'll take my place among the pop culture producers instead of just being a consumer. I wonder if they'll be tax deductible years after I've purchased them.

DVR -- I've always been a TV junkie, but without this wondrous invention I'd also be a shut-in. How could I leave the house when the latest episode of "Flavor of Love" is on? Our DVR has also enabled Mrs. Rogue and I to check out a few extra shows every week since skipping the commercials give us some extra time. When I really love a technology, it's apparent because I try to convert others to it. I've been a hardcore advocate for DVR, so you can imagine that it is right behind the invention of the FryDaddy in my Pantheon of Technology.

The Wii -- It wasn't easy to get one, and I had been anticipating its arrival for more than a year. Now the Wii is here, and it's even cooler than I had imagined. It rolls, techno-wizardry, nostalgia, and just plain fun, all up into a little ball and then slaps some "Apple-Like" style. It looks good in my entertainment center, and it's fun enough that I've actually skipped some TV shows this week. That's an endorsement if ever I've heard one.

Well, there it is, my "Thankful List." I hope you enjoy your turkey and stuffing (or hamburger and fries if you're a kindred spirit). I also hope you take a moment to think about what you are thankful for, the sappy, serious, and silly all included. Happy Thanksgiving, everybody, from the Drunken Rogue!

A Geek Odyssey: My Scars Tell a Story

I'm the Geek King, and I've got the scars (both physical and mental) to prove it.

If my previous rantings on topics as geek-approved as "Heroes," "Star Wars" etc., I was prepared this weekend to prove my geekitude once and for all. I was getting a Nintendo Wii. Nothing would be allowed to get in my way, by 2am Sunday morning I would be playing the newest creation from the house that Mario built (or is that the house that built Mario?).

There were supposedly plenty to go around for launch day, and I live in semi-rural north Louisiana, so the plan was to get in line at my local Wal-Mart at 9PM Saturday night. I had worked early Saturday morning, so at six o'clock I laid down and tried to nap. After attempting to sleep for an hour and a half, I was too excited to continue to lay there. I called my friend Kyle to come pick me up and go to Wal-Mart. If there was already a line formed we'd join it, if not we'd play some "Guitar Hero" in the electronics department for an hour or so and then join the line.

Kyle happened to be at Wal-Mart already, so he was going to check on the line for us and call me back. He did, and it was bad news. There were 22 systems for sale in Ruston, there were 22 chairs sat out for those waiting on them, and there were 25 people in line. I told Kyle to head to my house and I'd start making phone calls. I called five Wal-Marts in small towns in the area and came up with the following results, two no answers, one non-24 hour a day store (therefore no midnight launch), one with 20 units and 15 people already in line, and one with 20 units and 17 people in line. The 15 person line was thirty minutes away so we hit the road.

Ella decided that to ensure we get a Wii at midnight, she will go to the Jonesboro Wal-Mart. Whichever one snags a spot in line will wait and the other one can head home (have I mentioned that my wife is the coolest woman ever?). Kyle informed me that our friend Casey Franklin was waiting on his Wii in Minden and we decided to call him. Casey was in line at Gamestop across the street from Wal-Mart, but since he already had his Wii fully paid for (therefore, he didn't have to wait in line) he headed to Wal-Mart with Tim Makin to snag us a couple of spots. During all this hubbub, my brother-in-law decides that he should also get a Wii (anticipation and excitement are contagious).

Kyle and I arrive at the Minden Super Wal-Mart at 8:30. Tim has been holding my spot, I take over thanking him profusely and Kyle grabs spot number eighteen for Boyd (my brother-in-law, the new Wii convert). The line of people waiting there couldn't have been nicer. There were a couple of parents (and one grandparent) picking it up for Christmas presents, there were two young boys (12ish) that had saved their own money to pick up the new system, and the rest of the line consisted of people like me guys (and a few girls) in their mid-twenties that had grown up on Nintendo, that were thrilled with the prospect of new adventures with Mario and co.

The folks at Wal-Mart could not have been nicer. They checked (and re-checked) the number of systems, games, and controllers so that everyone could figure out what they needed to purchase. About 9:30 they even gave out bottled water for everyone. There was no animosity (even from those that came late and ended up emptyhanded). Everyone was friendly, and the seasoned gamers (us 20-somethings) gave the Mom's and Grandmom's pointers on what games and accessories to pick up. It was actually a fun way to spend a Saturday night.

By the time midnight rolled around the anticipation could not have been any higher. It took quite a while for all the purchases to be made as there was only one cashier working the line. By the time all 21 systems had been purchased it was after 1:30. My total purchases: One Wii System (including a remote, nunchuck attachment, and Wii Sports), one extra remote, and one extra nunchuck. Kyle picked up a Wii system for Boyd, and for himself got an extra remote and a copy of "Red Steel" a first person shooter. See, that's a really committed friend. Not only did he go along for the ride (and wait) without planning on picking up a system, but he got his own remote for multiplayer gaming and an extra game for us to play together.

The ride back to Ruston from Minden has never been longer than it was that night with, not one, but two Wii systems in my lap. I think if I had any friends that lived in Minden, we just would have went to their house to hook it up immediately. As it turned out I wouldn't get to play immediately when I got home either. While was plugging it up and adjusting the television, my dog decided to run away from Ella. So, at 2am Sunday morning with tempatures hovering around freezing, the Drunken Rogue chased a pit bull/catahoula cur mutt around the cemetery in Ruston, all while the Wii waited patiently in the living room.

We did eventually find Otis, who was very proud of himself for being such a good hider. I completed the setup process, and turned on the Wii. Of course we couldn't play right away, we all had to create our own Mii's (cartoon versions of ourselves to represent us in Wii Sports), as well as download a system update from WiiConnect24.

All the grunt work done, we got down to the business of having fun, and literally played until we fell out, or most of us did anyway. Ella made it until about 5am, Kyle crapped out at 6:30, but the Rogue held strong all night. I met the sun with a Wiimote in my hand, slamming backhands and overhead shots at my computer opponent in Wii Tennis.

We had family responsibilities Sunday, as Boyd was having a special recognition during his Church service, so at 7am I woke Ella up and we started getting ready to head to Bossier. Since Boyd had his own Wii, we didn't have to take it, but we did take both our Wiimotes (if two or three player Tennis is fun, shouldn't four player tennis be even better?).

The service was nice, but my mind kept going over the best strategy for getting a strike in Wii bowling, or what celebrity we should turn into a Mii (Harry Potter was first non-personal creation). Boyd, Tara, Ella and I spent most of the afternoon taking turns at all that Wii Sports has to offer (and it is pretty exhaustive). It was somewhere around 5:30 Sunday afternoon that I started to notice my arm was sore. It felt like tennis elbow at first, but eventually moved into my shoulder as well (I'm sure the eight rounds of Wii Baseball that Boyd and played didn't help).

By the time Ella and I left Bossier it was clear that I was going to be sore the next day. I had no idea exactly how sore. Monday morning the small (and relatively essential) act of raising my right arm was almost impossible. I could move it, but I got pain for my troubles, and it was fairly useless as far as lifting things. It became clear that I would have to limit my playtime Monday night. I did just that. I got in a little time with Madden (still motion controlled, but not quite the workout of Wii Sports) and played a single game of Wii Bowling (I just couldn't help myself). I thought for sure I'd be good as new today, but if anything it was actually worse this morning.

I'm literally so sore that I can't really play the thing today, but I'd have it no other way. It's even more fun than I thought it would be and the potential for the system is incredible. I have a copy of The Legend of Zelda reserved, and as soon as my local store gets a new shipment I'll give you my thoughts on that. Right now I can tell you I'm the most excited I've been about video games since the release of the Super Nintendo (and Super Mario World, which I can now download on my Wii!). The Drunken Rogue is right now, the Deliriously Happy Rogue.

Exhaustion, Anticipation, and Absolution

I'm sorry. I know it seems that I've left you all behind. In the absence of my daily dose of delight, most of you have been as mirthless the past week as I have been. What I've done is unforgivable. I get you used to a steady diet of the Rogue's humor and then I cut you off cold turkey. Well, I'm sorry and I hope you all forgive me. I do have some excuses though (like you thought I wouldn't?) and I might as well share them.

Late last month I decided to join a "competition" (I use the word in quotations, because there is not real winner in this "competition") called National Novel Writing Month. The goal is to write at least 50,000 original words between midnight on November 1st and midnight December 1st. That is a fairly arbitrary finish line, but the idea is that breaking it down to 1,600 words a day is quite do-able. It is...for someone else. I have done well on the novel so far, it's advancing nicely and I've made several discoveries about the characters and myself as a writer already. It is not getting finished this month. Even without the work on the novel, I would have likely written less blogs in the past two weeks than normal, but when you figure in a little time to work on the novel, I've written three pieces in 12 days -- way off my average.

For those that are looking forward to my first real piece of fiction (some would claim most of my life is fiction) the book IS coming, just not right away. As for the blogs, I'm back! Maybe not up to full steam for the next week or so, but I'm definitely back with fresh wit and wisdom, straight from the desk of the Drunken Rogue. Aren't you lucky?

So what kept me away? I fought a valiant battle against the forces of darkness in the form of a dragon and an evil sorcerer. Okay, not really, but that would have been a kick-ass excuse! What really happened is, Joel got extremely busy at work. Literally (I'm tempting fate here) everything that could have come up, did. I've done more commercial production, live remotes, on-air contests, public appearances, etc. in the past two weeks than I have in the year before that...Alright that's an exaggeration, but it got my point across. I'm tired. But fear not, even in this weakened state, I can write the funny like no other.

Things of interest that have happened in my absence:

1. K-Fed and Britney go splitsville -- There was also the breakup of Ryan Phillipe (how the hell do you say his last name?) and Reese Witherspoon, but I let that one go. They're not big enough stars to warrant the Rogue's attention. K-Fed, on the other hand, is the kind of mega-star that only comes along once in a millennium (okay twice if you count MC Hammer). A man of so talented that he could woo and win a woman that literally had her choice of any man on the planet. Not only did K-Fed's magnificence win him Britney's hand, but also her loyalty while he (to be tactful) dillydallied with "women of the night". The man's a stud, let's all just face it, and crown him the "Sexiest Man Alive" not for this year, but for all time. Incidentally as the couples split was announced, K-Fed's class, sophistication and sly business sense became apparent as he demanded custody of their children using a purported "sex-tape" as bribery. Smooth.

2. O.J. needs to pay the rent, but can't find those pesky "real killers" -- O.J. Simpson was once a great running back, he was also a beloved (although no one knows why) actor in comedies like "The Naked Gun" and "The Naked Gun 2" and the classic "The Naked Gun 33 and 1/3." Apparently O.J. missed the part in the NFL players handbook that stated his status did not give him the coveted "License to kill." So he hacks up his ex-Wife (K-Fed, are you taking notes?) and her lover, leaves a bloody trail all over Los Angeles, and gets away with it. But he forgot something during the trial. O.J. forgot to take do his victory dance on top of his former in-laws' table. So, he's making up for lost time by releasing a book entitled, "If I did It" (re-titled from the original, more controversial "I Did It and There's Not a Damn Thing You Can Do About It!"), and is appearing in a FOX television special entitled, "If I Did It, Here's How It Happened" (this was also re-titled from the edgier "You Know I Did It, I Know I Did It, Now I'm Gonna Dance, Fools!"). It strikes me as odd that someone would not only be interested in hearing O.J. detail the manner in which he wishes he killed his ex-wife and her boyfriend (you just can't stab them right in the heat of the moment), but think that the rest of America would want to hear this story too. The worst part is, a lot of America will want to hear it. Our country is more and more illiterate everyday so I'm not worried about his book selling well, but the ratings for the TV program will be high. Stay classy, America. Stay classy.

There is another little news story that some of you may be aware of, this weekend marks the release of not one, but two new video game systems. The latest from the house of Sony (the PlayStation 3), and the newest from Nintendo (the Wii...no pee jokes allowed). I myself have already pledged allegiance to Nintendo (in case some of you haven't read anything I've ever written before), but the PS3 (isn't that a nifty name?) has a lot to recommend it. It's basically a supercomputer and a high def movie player all for around $600. Of course there's only about 4 of them in North America, so the only way to get one is by hijacking the delivery truck, boarding a small jet with your new console and living out your life on a remote Caribbean island. Good luck running it without electricity.

The Wii, unlike the PS3, is not about horsepower. It is only marginally more powerful than the current video game systems, but does deliver a brand new experience through motion controlled games. The innovative controller is the focus here. Add up a new control scheme and classic game franchises like Zelda, Metroid, Donkey Kong, and Mario, and you've got yourself a bargain at $250. There are going to be significantly more Wii's than PS3's but the system is still expected to sell out. I'm getting mine Sunday at Midnight. Over the next week or so, expect to hear a lot about what I think of it, as well as how different family members and friends react to it. I'm not trying to get a job with Nintendo, but if their system is as great as I expect it to be, I don't mind sharing that experience.

Now we are all caught up. It feels good to be back with you. I'll try not to be gone so long again. It's lonely and sad in the real world.

I Told You I Was a Big Deal

Several days ago, right here, I made a plea for NBC to keep "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip." I also suggested that if you're not watching it now, then you should start. Apparently somebody listened. Michael Ausiello from TV Guide reported last night that NBC has announced a full season pick up for the Aaron Sorkin, Thomas Schlamme series. So, I think a pat on the back is in order. Everybody, start patting. As for me, in the words of "The West Wing"'s Josh Lyman, "Today I drink from the cup of victory. Bring me the finest bagels and muffins in all the land."

If feels good to single-handedly save a show. Alright in all fairness there were roughly eight million other people that watched the show on a regular basis and apparently most of them made a lot more money than I did. It seems that "Studio 60" has the largest concentration of plus $75,000 households of any network broadcast series. So maybe I didn't save the series with my little letter writing campaign, but it is nice to know that I have expensive taste. Booyah!

Now that my two favorite new shows are safe ("Heroes" and "Studio 60"), I can turn my efforts to more important matters. No, not finishing the novel I'm working on this month. I've got plenty of time left for that. I'm talking about camping out, waiting on the release of The Wii.

For those that are just joining us, here's a post from a few months ago all about The Wii. For those with no time on their hands, however, I'll sum it up. The Wii is the latest video game system from Nintendo, that's right the guys that WERE video games before PlayStation came along. The Wii is not a high definition system like PS3 or Xbox360, it is however a complete revolution (that used to be the code name for the system in fact) in the way we play video games. Instead of the standard controller we've all come to know and love (and for some of us, fear), The Wii offers a new control method, the controller looks like a TV remote control, and senses motion in three dimensional space. I'll be using this bad boy to play The Legend of Zelda, Madden '07, and a few other choice games in just over a week. So enjoy your weekend, I'll be watching old episodes of "Studio 60" and dreaming of Nintendo.

So, We Won a Couple, right?

Not really, no. The Conservatives got beaten last night. Beaten like a red-headed step child. The Democrats took 'em to the woodshed, and tanned their hide like a they were making a brand new Republican-skin belt. Ooh, shiny!

Now that we've gotten our Dan Ratherisms out of the way, let's look at exactly what did take place. The Democrats have basically flipped control of the House of Representatives. Before the election the GOP had a 15 vote majority, today the Democrats have almost exactly that. In the Senate there are 49 Republican seats, 48 Democratic seats, 2 Independent seats that will count as Democrat, and one still undecided. The Allan-Webb race in Virginia is so close that Virginia law pretty much mandates a recount, so that will take most of the month to actually resolve itself. Currently Webb (the Democrat) is leading, and it is unlikely that a recount will overturn that.

Let's assume that the final count will show Webb winning and becoming the 49th Democratic senator in this congress. That means that all the Senate committees and sub-committees will be chaired by Democrats. Nancy Pelosi is (very likely) our new Speaker of the House. The Democrats also took over a majority of governorships around the country. It wasn't a tsunami for the Dems, but it was an awfully big wave.

I'm a Republican (I know, it's shocking) but I'm also a realist. The GOP deserved to get trounced. They have made bad decision after bad decision concerning the war in Iraq. They have allowed discretionary spending to explode, without even a thought of fiscal responsibility (boy there's a sexy, exciting charge to lay on them), and they've allowed themselves to be mired in scandal after scandal. They sort of look like the Democrats that were kicked out on their keister in 1994. But, you know, with more white guys.

So, as a realistic conservative (you're thinking that's an oxymoron aren't you?), I think it will be good for us to be on the outside looking in for a couple of years. I also don't think we'll be out of power for that long. The Democrats didn't have any agenda when they were out of power, why would they come up with one now? They are going to flounder, and their "party diversity" that makes them so proud is going to showcase just how divided the party is. You can't govern when you can't agree.

But don't cry for me, Argentina. I'm not that beat up by the heavy losses this year. I'm looking forward to 2008 when I can put on my GOP colors with pride and celebrate the election of John McCain as President. That's a right-thinking Republican that could not only win but have some coattails to help re-elect a Republican House and Senate. Of course, by the time the 2008 election gets here, McCain might be too old to carry the weight of coattails, you know frail bones and all. Oh, well. At least I can complain about those idiots in power again!

Too Much Heaven on My Mind...

Music is a powerful thing. It can tell a story more succinctly and often more powerfully than prose. It can make you laugh, think, cry, or riot depending upon the intention of the artist. Live music is even more visceral. Watching the singer strain for the high note, or seeing the sweat on a guitarists brow, seems to add to the beauty of the song. This weekend I saw a live performance of some of my favorite music ever. I saw, "Jesus Christ Superstar."

I've spoken little, and without any specifics as to my religious beliefs in these blogs. That's by design, some of the people that read my posts would think I'm not committed enough and others would label me a Bible thumper. I fall decidedly in the middle. I'm passionate about my faith, and very sure of my relationship with my Creator. I hope you are equally as pleased with your religious beliefs or the lack thereof. I'm glad to talk about my beliefs, but don't feel the need to proselytize, not actively anyway.

To give you the full story of today's blog, you need my background, religiously speaking. I was raised Free Will Baptist, which is not wholly unlike Southern Baptists (which is something I'm sure most of you are familiar with). There are points of doctrine that differentiate these two, but for the purposes of this story let's let them lie. I am a Christian, not the best one by any stretch, but I believe that Jesus was the Son of God, and more specifically God Himself. The idea of "All Man, All God" is one that is fundamental to Christianity, but it's quite difficult to wrap your mind around in practice. The pain (emotional and physical) that Jesus endured during his thirty-three years on Earth, and specifically the last two days of his life are integral to the concept of salvation. It's also hard to imagine God suffering. That's one of the reasons I think Christians were so affected by "The Passion of the Christ." The film does a lot of things well, but the main one is that it humanizes the suffering of Christ. You feel the sacrifice that was made.

"The Passion of the Christ" is a wonderful film, irregardless of your feelings about Mel Gibson. But it isn't my favorite portrayal of the Crucifixion story, that's "Jesus Christ Superstar." The rock opera started out as just an album, before it was staged on Broadway and in London. The most famous version is the 1973 film starring Ted Neely as Jesus and Carl Anderson as Judas. The opera tells the story of the last week of Jesus' life. It begins on Palm Sunday with the triumphant entry into Jerusalem, and ends with the resurrection. There is no dialogue, and the whole story is told in the form of rock songs.

If you've never seen the film or heard the music you might be thinking this is quite possibly the most sacrilegious thing ever, and so did a lot of people in the 70's. Most Christians though, upon having seen the show, feel that it is an interesting and religiously acceptable representation of the death of Christ. Some people have a problem with the fact that Mary Magdalene is portrayed as having romantic feelings for Jesus, others dislike that Judas is the main character and is shown as largely sympathetic, others dislike the scene in the Garden of Gethsemane when Jesus is asking that God "take this cup away from me." I don't have any of those problems.

I think the show is a beautiful depiction of fully fleshed out characters as they are described in the Gospels. Mary, Judas, the Apostles, they were all just people trying to understand and live with something that was so much bigger than any of them could possibly have imagined. What does come through in the music is the love that the disciples had for Christ, the love He had for them, and the anguish of what He knew had to be done. It's powerful stuff.

The production I saw this weekend was staged by the national touring company and is billed as the "Farewell tour" because it is Ted Neely's (supposed) final performance as Jesus. I know, you're doing the math, and yes he is in fact over sixty. Ted Neely has been playing Jesus longer than Jesus was alive. And you know what, I'm very glad it was him on that stage instead of a man half his age. He's in peek physical condition (you'd have to be to endure the crucifixion and resurrection scenes), and he still has unbelievable vocal range. This is a show I've been in love with since the first time I saw it, about twelve years ago. But seeing it live, feeling the bass of the orchestra and being surrounded by that mass of people made it that much more wonderful. It's an experience I wish I could share.

If you've never seen the show, now is the time when I tell you you should. If you have avoided it because you thought it was sacrilegious, I'd counsel that you not make that judgment until you've seen it. If you watch it and are offended, please feel free to send hate mail. If you've never seen it because you aren't religious, and don't care to see a film about Jesus, give it a try for the music. I promise you won't be disappointed. Again I welcome hate mail if I'm wrong.

As a Christian, I feel it is very important to use your talents to honor God. I don't have the ability to write a song (and definitely not a whole opera), but I can write about what others have written. I can feel good about that. If you watch the film (or even better the live stage show) or listen to the music, I think you'll feel good about it too.

The End of an Era

So, I'm a day or two late on this I know, but cut me some slack, I'm writing a novel. It was announced this week that Bob Barker will retire from "The Price is Right" (which is incidentally the Rogue's favorite game show) this June at the age of 83, after 35 seasons with the show. This is monumental. Even before TPIR (as I like to call it) Barker was a television star. He hosted his first national game show with "Truth and Consequences" in 1956. That makes this Dec. 31st his 50th year in television. That's impressive by any standards. "The Price is Right" sets a record everyday it is on the air, since it is the longest running game show, and nearly the longest running television program, period.

Some of you may have gotten your first taste of "the Bob" as a child watching TPIR with your mother or grandmother. Others might never have known the phenomenon that is Bob Barker until they saw his famous (and award winning) fight with Adam Sandler in "Happy Gilmore," a film that still stands as a beacon of cinema perfection. But some of you might still have been blissfully unaware of Barker's name and place in television history if not for his unfortunate legal entanglements. It seems our buddy, Bob, likes to play grab-ass, and occasionally it's with someone that doesn't want to play back. Naughty, naughty, Bob!

Sure he's got some deviant (or at least unappreciated) romantic methods, but the guy is a television legend! Did you expect him to be like John Q Public? A star as big as Bob doesn't have time to woo a women slowly. His time is far too valuable for all that jazz. He's got to get straight to the point and, in the opinion of this writer, the ladies should just get used to it. A chance to get it on with the Geriatric Godfather (or is that grandfather?) of TV doesn't come along everyday. I think the ladies should feel privileged. There are millions of young ladies out there that Bob could have grabbed in inappropriate ways, but he chose you.

CBS is sending Bob off in style with a prime time special chronicling and honoring his 35 years on TPIR. Les Moonves, CBS President, had this to say, "Bob Barker is a daytime legend, an entertainment icon and one of the most beloved television personalities of our time. His contribution, not only to CBS and television as a whole, but also to the history of sexual harassment, will be the measure of excellence that television personalities will be judged by for years to come. I wish I could be half the harasser that Bob is." I think Leslie put it about as well as anyone could.

So, Bob, I hope you enjoy your retirement. Without the busy schedule of filming 60 minutes worth of mindless banter a day, you'll have plenty of time for window-peeping and pinching bottoms. That's a retirement I think we all would look forward to. And remember folks, help control Sexual harassments Suits, have your game show host spayed or neutered. Goodbye, everybody.

The Drunken Roadshow

The Drunken Rogue has spread his wit and wisdom all across this great country. (The preceding sentence is true, if you count everything east of San Antonio, and South of Cincinnati, but not including any of New England or Florida as "all across this great country"). Now it's time to take this show on the road, or more precisely the plane.

Mrs. Rogue, for those that are not aware, is currently in the final year of her collegiate studies. She is pursuing a Bachelor's degree in French. While it's not required for the major, it would seem a little strange for some one with a degree in a foreign language to never visit a country that speaks that language (we went to Canada. But let's face it, Canada's not a real country). Combine her love for all things French (except, you know, the America hating) with the fact that her graduation is approaching swiftly, and it seemed to be a fantastic time to take the leap across the pond.

My best friend, Richard, and his wife, Allie, are currently living in Germany, land of finely engineered automobiles, stout beer, and self-hatred over a history of genocide. I hear the beer gardens are glorious. We'll be flying into Nuremberg (hopefully not to be tried for War crimes) and then traveling with the Richard/Allie combo to (at least) Rome, France and Ireland. We're currently looking at fourteen days total for the trip, with a couple days at each destination.

The real question is how we are going to pay for this excursion. Well, first and foremost Ella's peeps (and mine) are going to be giving her some money for graduation. Money she has worked hard for over the last couple of years. We'll be using that cash, as well as what we can manage to save over the next few months. I'll also be scheduling some personal appearances throughout the continent so it'll be at least partially a work trip (I'm huge in Europe. Huge).

So, this May (roughly) Ella and I will be bundled up ('cause it's cold there in May) traversing the Old World (I wonder if anybody still calls it that). I don't have a laptop, but I am handy with a notebook and pen so you can look forward to the Rogue's impression of those foreigners and their crazy customs. A major point of focus will be beer gardens. In fact, I may write about nothing but beer gardens for the next six months in preparation.

What about you? Do you have any big trips planned for the next year? Cincinnati does not count. If you are planning a trip, where are you going? If you don't have one currently on the agenda, where do you wish you were going? I bet it's Europe.

I've Got to Keep Busy...

...because I've been a bit lazy lately. I'm only averaging five blogs a week. Only four of which are really laugh-out-loud funny. Between my blogging, my job, and maintaining my marriage, I just have too much time on my hands. I often find myself with whole minutes left in the day with nothing more than my thoughts occupying them. That's just seems wasteful to me. That's why, starting today, November 1st, I'm taking on another task. I'm gonna write a novel.

For those don't know, November is "National Novel Writing Monty." Thousands of people all over the world started writing furiously at the stroke of midnight November 1st, and continue until midnight November 30th. During that time our goal is to reach 50,000 words. That's almost 2,000 a day. If I was counting my blogging, that would be easy to get to, but I'm not counting the blogging. I'll continue to update my blog (hopefully at roughly five posts a week), but I also be writing a chapter or so a day on my new novel.

What's the book about? That's a good question. I'm not really sure yet. I know my main character is based on a short film I wrote while I was in college. This whole thing is an exercise to just force me to get a book out there. Get the first one out of the way, and then see what I've got. Maybe with a little editing it will be something that people will want to read, maybe not. But either way at the end of this month, I'll be a novelist. Worse case scenario, I'll see some things about the character and his story that will help me rewrite my film. Best case scenario, I'll have a hit book on my hands at the end of the month.

Would you like to read it? Probably some of you would, others are probably thinking, "I read enough from Joel as it is." Right now, it's not possible to read it anyway, but I am exploring giving the novel it's own Blogger page, so look forward to more updates on that in the future. November is a busy month, so I am trying to get a head start by having somewhere in the neighborhood of 20,000 words at the end of this week. That will allow me some breathing room towards the end of the month, when things get really hectic.

I'm excited about this month (for more reasons than one, I'll get to the others later). I've always wanted to be a writer, and over the last six months I've made a lot of progress towards that goal. Becoming a novelist (even if its a hurredly written piece of fluff) will be another big step. I've got a lot to say, and I look forward to getting it out there. Thanks for reading, commenting, and voting for me over the last month. Incidentally, the final rankings in the "Best Blog/Writer Contest" should be out today, I'll update you as soon as I know something. I appreciate all your help and support. I'd do this even if nobody read it, but it would be a lot less fun.

Some Thanks, Some Love, and a Little Bit of Begging

First and foremost, I want to thank all of you who voted for me over the past month in the "Best Blog/Writer Competition." I really appreciate it. It's not so much that I thought I would (or even cared to) win, it's just that I wanted to get my name (and blog) out there. The contest (and the promotion from you guys) has brought new readers to my blog. My traffic, my subscriptions, my comments have all grown (a lot) over the last month. So thanks, I'll try to deserve it.

I would be remiss (and possibly beaten) if I didn't mention the anniversary that I am celebrating (since I refuse to celebrate Halloween). Today is the third anniversary of the day I met my wife, Mrs. Rogue (Rogue, by the way is her married name, lest you think it tremendously coincidental that I married a girl named Rogue). To be regaled with the story of that night (and some more of the wit and wisdom of the Drunken Rogue) check out my post from earlier today, "Halloween, It's Not Just for Candy Anymore." I love you, Ella.

Now, to the task at hand. I'm scared. Not of ghouls and ghosts (although, I am a little scared of the dark), I'm afraid of cancellation. Not my own, obviously (MySpace loves me), but the cancellation of my favorite new show, "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip." I've already written about the brilliance that is "Studio 60" here on this blog, but in the last few days dark clouds have shown up on the horizon and I feel compelled to do something. So (and this is literally the height of my dorkiness) I'm writing a letter to NBC (sent electronically of course). I'm posting that letter here as well, for you to read and (hopefully) pass on to friends. If you are watching the show, thank you. If you are not, give it a try. Even if it's not your cup of tea, you have to admit that television is better off with it on the air than another hour of "Sleeping with Celebrities" or whatever the next reality show craze will be. Thanks ahead of time for your help.

To Whom it May Concern:

I am writing in support of a fantastic program which, I fear, your network has already written off. "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip" is everything that hourlong drama's should aspire to be. It is touching, funny, entertaining, well written, directed and acted. It carries on a great tradition of quality programming at NBC. I know that Television is a business, and the bottom line is always the most important factor in programming decisions, but there has got to be room for pride alongside profit. "Studio 60" is a show you can be proud of.

In a time when reality television, and mindless game shows are watched by millions while costing pennies, I understand it is difficult to stick with a mediocre hit, particularly one as expensive as Aaron Sorkin's latest effort. I know that you could easily replace "Studio 60" with another hour of "Deal or No Deal" or a show much like it, and probably improve your ratings in the timeslot. But will "Deal or No Deal" win you awards? Will it bring you acclaim from critics and discerning viewers? Will it foster a culture of class, and sophistication in your network? Will it bring the next talented writer to your studio instead of one of the ascending cable channels, with his or her brilliant idea? "Studio 60" has asked some of these very same questions in the show, and I think we all know the answers.

This is not to say that the show is without flaws. I often think it is "too smart" for its own good. Mr. Sorkin's pop culture (and occasionally not so 'pop') references are often above the head of the average viewer. While in the short term that may keep "Studio 60" from being a smash hit, in the long term that could be the very reason it lasts. I would ask that you, the executives of NBC, allow us to find out if "Studio 60" has the legs to last. Perhaps the answer is no, but the show at least deserves a chance.

Since the loss of hit shows like "Friends" and "Seinfeld" and the arrival of phenomenons like "Lost" and "American Idol," NBC has had some difficult times and has fallen from the heights it once ascended to. In the past few years, quality new shows like "Scrubs", "The Office", and "My Name is Earl" have joined stalwarts like "E.R." and the "Law and Order" franchise as jewels in the NBC crown. This season, three fantastic shows have joined those ranks. "Heroes" is exciting television in a genre that has rarely, if ever, been done justice. "Friday Night Lights" is a fantastic view of small town life, and America's real pastime. "Studio 60" has already proven its value, being praised almost universally by critics before the season even began. Quality programming will do more for you in the end than just help your bottom line. Quality begets quality, and that's always good business.

Respectfully Submitted

Halloween, It's Not Just for Candy Anymore...

Once upon a time there was a Drunken Rogue. But this was no ordinary drunken rogue. He had schooled himself in the ways of the Rogue over four long years of college. He had traveled far, he had seen things that others only dream of (like the fabled city of Cincinnati), and he had returned to the burg of Ruston to complete his education.

Yes, for most students four years is enough education, but the Rogue loved learning so much that he had returned for one final drink from the well of knowledge (and also, he still hadn't taken Math 125). It was in this mystical fifth year of his University studies that the Rogue was invited to an All Hallow's Eve party (or a Halloween party if you want to be all bourgeois about it). There was to be drinking, music, laughter (and supposedly pretty girls). The Rogue could hardly contain his excitement as he prepared for the party.

"I can hardly contain my excitement." the Rogue said to his compatriot (and hetero life-mate) Richard. "Well, try. I think your getting some excitement on my car seats." Richard was always very conscientious of cleanliness. "I don't know why I'm so looking forward to tonight. I don't even like All Hallow's Eve!" "Who the hell calls it 'All Hallow's Eve'? What are you, writing a ghost story?" Richard always took time to ask about the Rogue's endeavors. He was very thoughtful.

Finally, the boys arrived at the party. There was drinking, music, laughter and (no longer supposedly) pretty girls. As the Rogue broke into song with his buddy, Brandt, one particularly beautiful girl caught the Rogue's eye. She had long dark hair, a mischievous smile, and was wearing a man's pajama shirt. She was an unconventional conventionalist (it was a Rocky Horror Picture Show party). As the Rogue finished his song and rejoined the party proper, the beautiful girl approached him. He would have done the approaching himself, but he had urgent things to do (also he was a pansy). They introduced themselves, discussed music, life and more music, and before they knew it the Rogue and the beautiful girl had spent most of the night talking.

Fast forward three years, and the Rogue is married to that beautiful girl (we have little evidence but we suspect he keeps her heavily drugged). Three years after they met, and two years after they married, the Rogue still thanks his lucky stars (and the above mentioned drugs) for his lovely wife.

So for those that aren't in the Halloween spirit (or the All Hallow's Eve spirit if you want to be all intellectual about it), just remember that "Once upon a time" there was a Drunken Rogue that didn't like Halloween very much, but it ended up being one of the most important days of his life.

Fantasy Football and Other Ways to End Your Marriage

I love football, although not at all levels. I care absolutely not at all for high school ball. I really don't care about college (except that on Saturdays that's the only thing on TV). But I adore the pro's. I particularly like a little geeky pursuit called fantasy football.

It's a "sport" where me and several of friends get together, pick real football players to be on our "team" and then count up their actual statistics every week to see who "won." That's right, it's imaginary football. For a guy that enjoys the NFL this is a godsend. Instead of just being interested in one or two games a week where my favorite teams are playing, I'm now interested in every single game because either my fantasy "team" or my opponents "team" probably has somebody playing in that game.

This year I'm playing in five different fantasy leagues. Three public ones that I let Yahoo! just place me into a group, and two private ones. One is with some actor buddies from the outdoor drama I performed in a few years back, and the other is a group of guys (and girls) from the radio station where I work.

Now, as if the watching of five or more football games a week wasn't enough to put me in the doghouse with my wife, last year I talked her into actually being in the radio league. That's right, Mrs. Rogue plays fantasy football too. She's not actually interested in football. She likes football, you know, soccer. She is (in her second year of fantasy football) starting to pick up on the basic rules of the game. She also knows a lot of player names and can use the information that Yahoo! gives her to choose her players each week. She also asks my advice.

This is the point at which I put my marriage in jeopardy. You see, while Ella isn't that interested in football, she is very interested in winning, particularly against a couple of guys. She's had a long standing friendship (and friendly rivalry) against a guy in our league named Binni. She and Binni have known each other for years, and it absolutely thrills Ella when she is able to beat him mercilessly in fantasy football. The other guy she really enjoys destroying is our actor buddy, Cliff (Cliff is in both of my private leagues, so I enjoy beating him as well). She played Cliff this week, and we almost got divorced over it.

Ella has two defenses that can she choose from each week. One is the Baltimore Ravens, and the other is the New York Jets. Baltimore is a powerhouse defensively, the Jets on the other hand are weak. However, this week, Baltimore was playing the New Orleans Saints, and the Jets were facing Cleveland. New Orleans is pretty good this year (and they're our favorite team) while Cleveland is the pits (I mean the team and the city, except for the Cav's, they're awesome). I suggested to her that we play the New York Jets defense so we wouldn't have to root against someone on her fantasy team (I was damn sure going to root against Baltimore). She agreed (after a little coaxing) and we put Baltimore on the bench (the fake bench, you know the one in our heads. This is all fake sports remember?).

Fast forward to yesterday's game. Baltimore absolutely manhandles New Orleans, catching four interceptions (2 points a piece), recovering a couple of fumbles (2 points a piece), and worst of all scoring two touchdowns on defense (6 points a piece). It looked like it was obviously a bad play to get her not to start Baltimore. In fact by mid afternoon, she and Cliff were pretty much tied. I was literally looking around the house for things I knew I wanted to take with me when she kicked me out.

But then the late games came. The New York Jets lost to Cleveland, but they did manage to score a touchdown on defense, keep the overall score low, and force a couple of turnovers. In the end, Baltimore would have only scored her three more points than the Jets, and as of Monday morning she is WAY ahead of Cliff. But, Ella has no more players left to play, and Cliff has a tight end, a running back and a defense. For those that don't know anything about football or fantasy football, that means I may still be looking for a place to stay. Anybody got an open couch?

The Dogs in the Backyard or How I came to Contemplate Animal Cruelty

I love animals. I do. I have had several pet dogs in my life, even though my parents weren't particularly dog people. Once I met my wife, it became clear that I would also become a cat person. She has never had less than two cats. We had been married just over a year before I finally gave in and let her adopt a cat. We got Susie.

Susie is some form of Siamese mix. She's beautiful, but a bit bitchy. She either wants petting or doesn't and there is absolutely nothing you can do to change her mind about either one. She also has a terrific vendetta against houseplants. Seriously, last winter we moved in all our potted plants (literally dozens) and one by one she dug them up, destroyed the roots, and scattered dirt all over the house. We tried rocks on top of the dirt, we tried saran wrapping or tin foiling the top of the pot, we tried red pepper, we tried...well...we tried everything. Susie was up to the task.

The day we adopted Susie, Ella had gone to the adoption site by herself, picked out the cat, and then gone to Wal-Mart to get cat supplies. On her way to pick up the cat, she stopped to get me. I went with her to the adoption site, and immediately fell for one of the dogs they had there. A pit-bull, Catahoula cur mix by the name of Bullet was the one that caught my eye. He seemed lonely, dejected. All the other dogs ran to the fence when someone approached, but he stayed back in his corner. He seemed to know it wouldn't do him any good. His tail had been bobbed, badly. As soon as I got close to him, he looked up and licked my hand. I put him on a leash and walked him around. I was in love...except for the name.

So now we had Susie (the hyperactive, sometimes angry Siamese) and Otis (the pit-Catahoula with a mangled tail). But our little family was not complete. Nope, this 1500 square foot house was just too empty. We needed more company. That's when Ella brought home the stray. A tabby cat had been living in the Art Annex on our college campus, but had recently been attacked pretty badly by the other stray cats that lived around the building. One of the older students offered to pay for the veterinary bills, if someone would take her home. That's how we got Autre (that's French for Other, as in the other cat).

Now, at this point in the blog, you might be thinking, "Surely Joel has not introduced us to his animals just to describe his plans to brutalize them?" No, I have not. The dogs (there are as yet no cats on my Death List), do not belong to me. We live in a very dog-friendly neighborhood. We have big yards (considering the house sizes), wide streets with relatively little traffic, and a huge cemetery a block away that is perfect for dog walking. I haven't done any scientific studies, but I would be willing to bet that in the five blocks immediately surrounding our house, dogs are at least as prevalent as people.

I think this is great. Whenever we walk Otis, we always end up running into someone else walking their dog. If Otis happens to get away from us, the neighbors aren't angry they just point him out to us or even bring him back themselves. It's a great neighborhood.

These WERE my feelings until three nights ago. Thursday night I lay in bed awaiting sleep, but sleep wouldn't come. It was held at bay, by not one, not two, but a whole chorus of dogs relaying some urgent message to each other by barking in tandem. Every time it seemed as though they had died down, and I'd finally get some sleep, another dog would pick it up and it would start all over again. Friday night passed much the same way. Last night I actually fell asleep fine, but this morning at 8:30 (actually 8:30, so 7:30 since we "fell back" last night) I was roused by the Dog Tabernacle Choir. For some of you 7:30 may not be that early, but remember, I'm an AFTERNOON DJ. I don't go to work until 11am. Mornings are not my thing.

Sure, I laid in bed (not sleeping) and thought about the myriad ways I could silence the dogs. I'll admit poison crossed my mind. I even recalled that I have a baseball bat under the bed. Of course, I'd never act on my inclination to injure these animals. They are (after all) God's creatures. But, man, are they loud creatures.

So, now that I've vented my frustrations a bit, allow me to suggest this: If you have dogs (particularly if you are one of my neighbors that has dogs) please, keep them quiet at night. For directions to the nearest store selling muzzles, just call me.

I May Have to Kill John Mayer...

...and nobody's sadder about it than I am. But the time has come. For his own good, and the wellbeing of the human race as a whole, he must be stopped. It's a dirty job, but somebody's got to do it, and that somebody is me.

Sure, I loved "Your Body is a Wonderland." Like six years ago. Then it was a sexy subversive pop song, reminiscent of the early "Beatles." Now it's that song the 12 year old punk in the car that just cut me off sings to his girlfriend while popping his collar, 'cause he thinks that's sexy.

That is not sexy.

That's sad. Sure his "Comfortable" is a beautiful song about a lost love. Yes, he can play the guitar (not phenomenally, but) better than most of these "musicians" that make the charts today. It's also true that he has dated several good looking women during his time at the top of the "Teen Idol" list. It's also true that (other than the sasquatch formerly known as Matthew McConnaughey) he is transforming into the ugliest man in showbusiness.

We can debate all we want about whether it's better for a rock legend to burn out (ala Jimi, and Janis) or to fade away (ala Stevie Wonder) but when you've never even risen to the heights of "legend" you are most definitely not allowed to fade into a disgusting caricature of yourself. Seriously, Mayer, pull your self together. There are still ditzy starlets that long to be on your arm, but not for long the way you're headed!

So is that why John Mayer must die? No, my friends. It's not his crappy acoust-a-rock. It's not the fact that the good songs have been co-opted by losers. It's not even that he is apparently on a quest to turn himself into the elephant man. The reason Mayer must die, is that he's decided to be a humor critic. That I cannont abide.

Yesterday on his personal website JohnMayer.com, he linked to a buddy's MySpace blog, heralding it as "The Funniest MySpace Blog Ever...Maybe." I have several problems with this.

1. He can't possibly know that. -- I know now that his music career is in the toilet, and he's trying his best to become Marlon Brando: the Later Years, that he's got a lot of time on his hands. But there is no way he's read every MySpace blog. Not even I have that kind of time.

2. The blog in question, while funny, isn't even the best blog I've read about stalking old people. -- my boy Rico Tubbs (aka Jean) writes the best old-people-stalking blogs, no doubts about it. Although Mayer's buddy is awesome at Photoshop.

3. Even in his headline Mayer wimps out. -- He makes a claim (a bold, gutsy one) and then immediately withdraws less he be smacked down. If he had just hung it out there, "The Best MySpace Blog Ever!" I would have had to respect it. But he didn't, "The Best MySpace Blog Ever...Maybe" That's just sad, John. Now I have to kill you.

To John's fans (all the twelve year old's in the audience) I apoplogize. But know this, the world of rock will be better for his sacrifice. Know also that meaningless, pansy pop songs can still be found in abundance. I'd direct you to "Five for Fighting"'s new album or "Daniel Powter" of "You had a Bad Day" fame. Yes, the song from "American Idol."

Save the Children...From Celebrities

I plan on being fabulously wealthy and well known (at least in literate circles) someday. But here, now, while I'm still poor and anonymous, I make a pledge. I will never adopt third world children, particularly ones that are not actually orphans. It just doesn't seem fair.

Sure, it makes sense why someone like Angelina Jolie or Madonna would want to rescue a child from a life of poverty in the uncivilized portions of the world, but wouldn't it be better if you spent the thousands (in their case, millions) of dollars you will spend on that child over the course of their life, and raise the quality of life for all of their people? No? You're right. It's much more humane to pick the one really photogenic kid, cut him a mohawk, and make him a movie star. That way he can get a drug habit, and a slutty girlfriend with a record deal, and then return to his homeland in his mid 20's and "find himself." Yep, I think mankind is much better served in this fashion.

As a matter of fact, we should all do this. I mean there are about 300 million people in the United States. If everyone of us adopted a foreign child, then the developing world would be saved from caring for about a 10th of their current load and the United States would immediately suffer food shortages. Now everybody's equal right?

I understand that it seems like a wonderful idea to adopt someone who is pretty much destined for a more difficult life than your own. It is a wonderful idea, there are just plenty of orphans headed for a difficult life right here in the U.S., I don't understand why we need to reach out of our borders. The other issue is one of pride. Who are we to take a child away from the culture and society that is their parent's birthright? Oh, that's right. We're the beautiful people. Well, that makes it okay!

The Drunken Rogue intends on paying his bills and lining his pockets one day with the money generated by the words he writes. So, as a promise to the ones that read those words before anyone knew they mattered, I will not adopt Third World Children. I'll give to charity, I'll help build homes, hospitals, and churches, but I'll leave the kids with their own families, thank you very much.

I Saw the Best Minds of My Generation...and They Weren't Very Impressive

I am the Captain of Lazy. I have distilled it and forged it into a fine art. My lazy is seductive, unassuming, and easily overlooked. It's quite natural, expected even, to look at me and my accomplishments and say, "Well, there's a guy that's working hard. He does well for himself and his wife." People say that, but that is false. I'm slothenly, a devout couch potato. I call in sick (occasionally when I am less than sick). I take every single vacation and holiday offered to me, and search the employee manual for more. I don't want any extra responsibility without extra compensation. I'm willing to work hard, but only in so much as it is required to bring me the things I want. I might be a great personality, and an enjoyable guy to have around, but I am not a "go-getter."

I say all of that, to say this. People my age (from 18-30) are the most irresponsible, lazy, good for nothing so-and-so's imaginable. True, there are some of us that are outgoing, ambitious, level-headed, conscientious members of society. I've even met a couple of these people. But the vast majority of people in this age group (which is the most courted by advertisers) are like me. Sure we'll show up on time, but don't expect us to have any "company loyalty" driving us on without paychecks or benefits.

What has made us this way? Well, first and foremost it's the fault of our parents and grandparents. Our grandparents (many of them anyway) served in World War II. They fought hard for freedom, and returned to the U.S. with a new sense of possibility and potential. They built homes, bought two or three automobiles a piece, moved televisions into the homes, and made it almost mandatory for their children to go to college.

Our parents are probably (other than us) the best educated generation in the history of mankind. They enjoyed (largely) desegregated public schools, the vast majority of them attended college, most of them finished college (eventually). They are smart, active, successfull. And they want those same things for their children. Boy are we screwing that up.

I have had the displeasure to meet some of the laziest imaginable people. And they are all my age. While the average young person is like me (not exactly a hard worker, but not a slacker either), there are those that have sunk to new levels of lazy. I call these people "Federline's" after my favorite faux-celebrity, Mr. Britney Spears, Kevin Federline. These poor souls are constantly looking for a handout. These are the ones that don't go to class, and then complain about their failing grade. This is the guy that takes a week off for some dental work, and upon his return to the office puts in his vacation request.

"Joel," you might be saying, "how can you, a confirmed lazy person, begrudge someone trying to slide by?" Well, it's simple, if they don't pull their weight, I have to pull it. I believe we've already discussed extra responsibility without extra compensation! Because that, my friends, is where I draw the line on lazy. Procrastination, and lack of ambition are one thing, but letting other people take care of the things YOU are supposed to do, that's just bad form.

I used to rant and rave whenever I would read an article about the poor work ethic of my generation, but then I worked with some of us. The articles were right. So, get up this morning (or tomorrow, if you've already missed it today), go to work, apologize to the guy that had to cover for you, and sin no more. Someday we'll have to tell stories to our kids about how hard things were for us as young people, and it's just easier to actually live it than to make it up.