Idaho Press, Sunday, March 27, 2011 - ActivePaper Daily by Olive Software

Idaho Press, Sunday, March 27, 2011 - ActivePaper Daily by Olive Software

Okay, the Broncos had an undefeated season and ended up either #3 or #4 depending on which rating you prefer. Congratulations Broncos, but you should be #1 or #2. We of Bronco Nation know this, so take heart we believe in you wholeheartedly.

Now, let's take a look at BSU's basketball program. What the hell's the problem here? Why can't we rise above average? Could it be the coaching? Could it be the players? I believe the answers lie on top. We all know s**t flows downhill. If management is corrupted, then the workers won't perform well. I say clean house. Get rid of the coaching staff. Go outside. Find better coaches. Offer 'em some money so we get good personnel. Damnit, I'm tired of lousy basketball efforts from our team. Find the answers. Get on the ball...literally.

That's my answer and I believe it to be the right one.

GO BRONCOS.

The Gigs

Well, as most of you know, the Knights Band is back in Business! Yea! I got my voice back after losing it to cancer last winter. If it doesn't come back, I should be able to sing until I kick the bucket, and that is a good thing. We are playing outdoor gigs this summer which means it's a big strain on the voice...however, I feel good about it. I hope I don't get the larengeedis. Love ya gentle readers.

News

I forgot. The Knights Band is starting up again...kinda like the spring resurrection. Me and ol' Hen are trying to get our chops back and get back in shape. //Did I mention I'm old? Hen's old too, but we still cook. We've been doing Rockabilly music since it was a new phenomena. [circa 1956] //I don't know if I have mentioned it, but last winter [did I mention I hate winter?] I was involved in a battle with throat cancer. During this time I didn't feel like practicing my music and now I'm slow and kinda clumsy. Slowly I'm getting the feel back. Hen teaches guitar and mandolin and is always in shape. However, even he has a problem with picking within the parameters of 'band' music. Meaning, you have to play in time and with the rest of the band. //This year, my son Matt will be playing tubs and singing harmony with us. He's a welcome addition. Matt is probably one of the best 'Rockabilly' drummers I've ever played with. He has a natural feel for this music. //Anywho, we are back into it. I hope y'all get a chance to see us in action this year. I'll post our gigs on this blog, or if you are on my email list you will automatically get a posting of gigs. //Love ya all. July 4th: Melba Fireworks, Melba, Idaho, 9 PM to 1 AM. July 30th: Gem County Fair, Emmett, Idaho, 9:30 PM August 15th: Council Mountain Music Festival [Early evening]

Spring

Okay, I get it. It's spring. Everybody is supposed to be out there in the sunlight smiling and suffering sunburn. I agree spring is a renewing of mind, body and spirit, but do I have to like it? I awoke this morning with my typical hangover. I'm old, so I don't sleep good. I wake up in the middle of the night to pee and have a helluva time getting back to sleep, so I lie there and think of ways to kill people for not sympathizing with me. -- not really -- I love people. I must. I was a psychotherapist specializing in addicts and alcoholics. I must love people, right? Right. Bullshit. What being a therapist really teaches you is how well people hide themselves within themselves. Spring reminds me of this human malady. Every winter, the ground gets cold and puts the trees and grass a sleep. But it hides other things as well. Little rootnotnematodes [sp] and bugly little assholes within it's sleeping core. And the trees...oh, their the worst. There they are all naked and, you would think, honest, but no...they are hiding their sap under the soil only to pop out anew with a simple change of temperature. People are like spring. They hide their motivations behind mannerisms. They smile when the really should be frowning. I remember a 22 year old addict died a few days after leaving inpatient treatment by shooting meth in a now-clean vein. At the funeral, they parents said [with a smile] "he's in a better place now. He's at peace." Really? How do they know. Seems like the poor kid was using drugs to 'find' peace. Of course, I could be wrong. He could be up there on a cloud smiling down on my sarcastic butt and saying, "see Johnny, there is a God and he loves me." I hope that's true and like the new spring greenery, this boy will sprout again at the Resurrection. My favorite time of the year is fall. In the fall, all the spring fumbling and summer denials are withering and dying and the 'real' truth shows itself. Fall is also beautiful. Look at the colors! Magnificent. Now you see what life is really like in all its glory. I love the pomposity of fall and the gloriousness of its exit. I hate winter. Winter is death. I bet if a study was done [I bet this has been done somewhere by someone] that most people die during winter...percentage-wise. I have three sons: one son in mid summer of his life, one son in early summer of his life and one son in the late spring of his life. I have two grandchildren in the early spring of their lives. My hope is that they will find themselves in the gloriousness of fall with few regrets. It's hard to get through this life without regrets, but the fewer the better is my philosophy. Looking back, I have regrets...many...too many. But I have the one thing I searched for all my life: love. Love of my wife, love of my kids and, this sounds conceited, but I assure you it's not, love of my self. Usually, I'm more upbeat, but today...well, today I just feel morosely benign.

Right Wing Radicals

I have been down with a rotten cold for the past week. It's one of those hacker, cougher, dose dripper, sinus headacher, bone acher...you get the drift. Consequentley, I have not blogged even when I had something to say. A 'friend' of mine [the ' 's are saying, he's really not a friend] sends me egregious emails about the present President of the United States. Everything from Obama is not a citizen to Obama's mother was a street whore. Needless to say, I hate these missives and usually I just delete them without reading too far. However, there are times I lose it. Unlike my son Radical Russ Belville, I am not a political animal. I like whom I like and that's usually the end of it. What is different is the crap that can be thrown out via the internet. These emails are nothing less than assaults. Some of them are so offensive they are just short of traitorous. In any other country the writer would be imprisoned for such balderdash. Lucky for these individuals, this is a democracy and you are guaranteed certain rights and one of those rights is free speech. But 'free' speech should come with some responsibility. If I tell you that I don't appreciate your 'free' speech and wish that you would shut up, this should be done without fanfare or a fight. I did this. I told the guy not to send me any more of this Obama-istic crapola and guess what? I was agog when I saw my email box again filled with the same crapola the very next day. What does one do? Other than being a rabid right winger, this guy is okay. As long as we stay away from politics, he's a gem and I like him...a lot. So what do I do? Well, what I did was send him another email tearing down Bush and Cheney in the most egregious way. I did my research. I found all the foibles Bush and Cheney were guilty of, citing dates, times and in depth what the foible was. Some of the foibles were even illegal [Homeland Security stuff]. Some were unethical [firing all those DA's]. I slammed those boyos from hell to eternity and used the same language my friend uses to put down Obama. Guess what? You got it. He replied by telling me that Obama is a Muslim Jihadist and the Anti-Christ all rolled up in one. I give up!! Hello Delete Key, my old friend.

The Son's Visit

Well, he came, he saw, and he conquered: my son's trip was a resounding success. He ate a Chicago Connection Pizza, raided his mother's fridge and ransacked his father's new confuzer. Like I said the trip was a resounding success. The only thing missing was the traditional mind-if-I-do-my-laundry bit, but then, he would have had to carry the dirty stuff on the airplane and that would have been too much for even ol' Josher. But God, it was good to see him. He's grown into a handsome young devil. He's 6'4" and 200+ pounds and eats like there's no tomorrow. I don't see him much now that he's moved to Portland and is living with his brother and wife. They have their thing going [which I'll blog some on one of these days] and everyone is busy. They don't have time for Ma and Pa as often as we would like them to, but that's part of growing up I guess. I remember when I got out of high school and on my own, the parental imprinting began to fade also. Oh, I loved the old folks, but I had real important things to do...much more important than hanging out with a couple of fossils. The good thing about being a parent is you don't have to parent much anymore when they move out, the bad part about being a parent is you don't have to parent much anymore when they move out. Ah life, ain't it grand? The irony of it all... The Rockin Johnny B