AAA Batteries

            My friend Lee was driving down the boulevard when a kid in a BMW cut him off.  They pulled to a red light and Lee looked at the kid.

            “You’re driving like a douche bag,” Lee said to him.

            The kid looked at Lee and threw up his hands. “It’s not the end of the world.”

            Lee looked at the kid in degust and reached down to his astray. He grabbed a triple A battery that he had stored for such an occasion and tossed it out his window. The battery hit the BMW squarely on the side panel. It made a huge racket, but it did little or no damage.

            Lee looked at the kid straight in the eyes, and threw up his hands, “It’s not the end of the world.” 

            A chase ensued and after many blocks of driving the kid finally caught up to Lee and got out of his car.

            Lee stayed in his car. “Did I do something wrong?” Lee said to the fuming kid as he approached.  

Nappy Time

            I was talking to Bill the smog guru about naps. He likes to sneak in a nap while his workers are at lunch. He says it’s easy to fall asleep on weekends. All he has to do is set the television to a station that is showing a golf tournament.

            “It works every time.”

            As he told me his technique for napping, and we expounded on the merits of the sleep aid called golf, I realized the sure genius to this approach. First of all, the announcers speak in a hushed tone of voice, as if there were a baby sleeping. “This putt is for birdie,” the announcer might say in a whispery, pleasant voice. It makes me sleepy just thinking about it. 

            The crowd is quiet. They don’t boo or jeer like at a football game. In football you hear a whistle blowing every fifteen seconds that’s not good for sleep.

            Even the golf swing is pleasant. It’s a whooshing sound, not like the crack of the bat in baseball. Yes I do believe we’ve found a purpose for golf, it’s a sleep aid.  

Not Much, But Something

            I’ve resigned my post as bass player from the Venice gig. The fun and games are over. The sole reason I was playing in the band was for the money, but the leader of the band started booking free gigs. I can’t play free gigs, unless it’s for a worthy cause, a benefit for the poor and needy, or for family.

            I gave him a month to find a new bass player. With all the time and energy I put into playing the bass, it’s a slap in the face for someone to expect me to play for free, the operative word is expect. I’m not going to be pushed around for free. It’s going to cost you a little something, not much, but something.