tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74015762024-03-07T16:03:27.486-06:00Dear Abby Normal...and you won't be angry?Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-66940240207394790692011-03-11T11:08:00.004-06:002011-09-28T10:19:38.684-05:00BURN<iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/13184388" width="500" height="282" frameborder="0"></iframe><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Detroit was once the center of the world... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Consider helping fund the completion of this film by clicking <a href="http://detroitfirefilm.org/" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><p><span class="Apple-style-span" ><a href="http://vimeo.com/13184388">BURN Trailer</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user3243785">Tremolo Productions</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</span></p></div>Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-41367725144621878522010-05-04T10:16:00.019-05:002011-09-29T16:15:09.370-05:00Johnstown 2010In the past I've encouraged folks to contribute to relief efforts for natural disasters in New Orleans & Haiti. Now, we find our hometown another victim. Although the Nashville flood of 2010 is dwarfed in scale by New Orleans, there are thousands who have lost their homes, without flood insurance. Homes - gone with no recompense.<br /><br />Portions of our neighborhood & many others have been wiped out by apparently total losses. Historic & important cultural sites are damaged. The <a href="http://www.opry.com/about/History.html">Grand Ole Opry House</a>, the <a href="http://www.gaylordhotels.com/gaylord-opryland/">Opryland Hotel</a>, the gorgeous <a href="http://www.nashvillesymphony.org/">Schermerhorn Symphony Center</a> - all damaged by flooding. And we shouldn't forget that dozens already have lost their lives & the numbers are expected to rise as waters recede. It's heartbreaking. And what's even more surreal is the fact that not only is this story being masked by other national news, but there are even parts of Nashville that are seemingly unphased.<br /><br />I've always found myself bored with other flooding disaster news stories with the aerial footage of sandbagging efforts along the Mississippi in remote parts of the country's midbelly, but this time it's in our back yard - literally. I expect that in the future I will empathize a little more & sigh a little less when I read of yet another rising river in some town I've only driven through.<br /><br />Please consider digging the news stories a little deeper & be aware of relief efforts & funds that may be set up in the coming weeks to help mitigate the massive individual losses that thousands have now accrued. How many of you have flood insurance? Most don't. Now imagine that your house is totally destroyed in the most damaging flood in your town's history. Then realize that there are thousands of our neighbors in that very position sleeping on cots in the high school gym up the road.<br /><br />Here's a link to our personal videos of our street & downtown Nashville.<br /><table style="width:194px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="height:194px;background:url(http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/transparent_album_background.gif) no-repeat left"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/frebergite/Johnstown2010Movies?authkey=Gv1sRgCP24nP_318mZbg&feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_zwkuGk5IfEI/S93zssWMpNE/AAAAAAAARhM/5ZZ6e2TKZFA/s160-c/Johnstown2010Movies.jpg" width="160" height="160" style="margin:1px 0 0 4px;" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="text-align:center;font-family:arial,sans-serif;font-size:11px"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/frebergite/Johnstown2010Movies?authkey=Gv1sRgCP24nP_318mZbg&feat=embedwebsite" style="color:#4D4D4D;font-weight:bold;text-decoration:none;">Johnstown 2010 [Movies]</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><object width="420" height="245" id="msnbc3f7871" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=10,0,0,0"><param name="movie" value="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/32545640"><param name="FlashVars" value="launch=36927001&width=450&height=261"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="wmode" value="opaque"><embed name="msnbc3f7871" src="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/32545640" width="450" height="261" flashvars="launch=36927001&width=420&height=245" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="opaque" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.adobe.com/shockwave/download/download.cgi?P1_Prod_Version=ShockwaveFlash"></embed></object><p style="font-size:11px; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; color: #999; margin-top: 5px; background: transparent; text-align: center; width: 420px;">Visit msnbc.com for <a style="text-decoration:none !important; border-bottom: 1px dotted #999 !important; font-weight:normal !important; height: 13px; color:#5799DB !important;" href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/">breaking news</a>, <a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/3032507" style="text-decoration:none !important; border-bottom: 1px dotted #999 !important; font-weight:normal !important; height: 13px; color:#5799DB !important;">world news</a>, and <a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/3032072" style="text-decoration:none !important; border-bottom: 1px dotted #999 !important; font-weight:normal !important; height: 13px; color:#5799DB !important;">news about the economy</a></p>Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-81825523877081387112010-01-15T08:30:00.005-06:002010-03-09T09:24:00.938-06:00Don't Make Me Do This Again!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.redcross.org/files/site/images/logo.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 169px; height: 51px;" src="http://www.redcross.org/files/site/images/logo.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />It worked well the <a href="http://jerryhager.blogspot.com/2005/09/get-free-jerry-hager-music-seriously.htm">first time</a> so...<br /><br /><br />I know many of you have already provided some financial help to organizations trying to provide aid to Haitian earthquake victims. After a few days it seems logistics is still a major problem, so money to contract supplies of water, food, & medical stores is the swiftest most effective assistance at the current stage. <br /><br />Again, I don't have anything moving to say; there's nothing TO say. But I will be very happy to again provide FREE Jerry Hager music to those who have given support in any amount to the <a href="http://www.redcross.org/">Red Cross Haitian Relief Fund</a>. All you need to do is to forward your receipt from the Red Cross as in-line text [deleting the amounts & any banking info] to me at <a href="mailto:info@jerryhager.com?Subject=Gimme some CDs!">info@jerryhager.com</a> [be sure to include your mailing address], & I'll send you a small stack of great Jerry Hager music, including unreleased new stuff!<br /><br />I know that while so many are in such dire need it's difficult to 'get down' but CDs keep well for when you're ready start boogie-ing again.Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-53212127646573795192008-10-08T11:54:00.007-05:002008-10-09T08:21:35.717-05:00Which One?I still don't think anything about the comment but I do like how quick some people are:<br /><a href="http://andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com/the_daily_dish/2008/10/a-new-slogan.html" target="_blank"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/images/thatone.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-4493786967127255192008-05-01T10:27:00.002-05:002008-05-01T10:34:14.615-05:00Burnt, Fried, and Set AsideWhile walking past the McDonald's at Vanderbilt Hospital, I overheard a middle-aged lady talking to an elderly woman with a walker. <br /><br />Younger lady: "How 'bout McDonald's?"<br />Elderly lady: "Naw. If you eat there, you have to sit down twice."Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-31095545350491808442008-03-17T13:26:00.006-05:002008-03-17T13:39:52.895-05:00The New Phonebooks Are Here!I just looked my name up in the white pages & found that I am listed as<br />Gerald R & R Hager. <br /><br />It wasn't someone else, it was me; had my address & everything. I gotta find out who I know at the phone company & buy them a beer.Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-42865626359260881892008-02-26T13:55:00.021-06:002011-03-11T14:45:06.765-06:00A Nashville Legend Passes<a href="http://jerryhager.com/odds/bb.htm" target="_blank"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/images/bbleaves2.jpg" border="0" alt="Sideways House photo by Eartha Kitsch" /></a>Usually, people fall asleep listening to stories about other people's pets. But, then again, not that many pet credentials include 'National Recording Artist'. BB really was a session musician. His work can be heard on Tom Mason's <em>Where Shadows Fall </em>& the upcoming Joe Nolan album <em>Blue Turns Black</em>. I dog-shit you not.<br /><br />Unfortunately, his last work will be released posthumously. Yesterday, we had to have him put down. He was a great friend over the last 12 years. He loved being buried in leaves & snow, having a shop-vac run over his fur, & eating walnuts. I took to him because he didn't mind the smell of my cigar. In his declining years, he was perhaps a little less affectionate, but still, the most patient dog I've ever known.<br /><br />I never got him that male-symbol ID tag, but I think he had a little more class than that.<br /><br />For those of you who knew him, I thought you'd like to know. For those of you who didn't, here are a few pictures of him in the studio.<br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/odds/miscimages/bbstudio1.jpg" target="_blank"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/odds/miscimages/bbstudio1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/odds/miscimages/bbstudio2.jpg" target="_blank"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/odds/miscimages/bbstudio2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/odds/miscimages/bbbongo.jpg" target="_blank"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/odds/miscimages/bbbongo.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-38384749663740535462007-05-03T08:17:00.000-05:002007-05-04T07:34:09.091-05:00Celebrity Theory #2Ever seen <em>these </em>two in the same place at the same time?<br /><br /><img src="http://jerryhager.com/images/PeterGabriel.jpg" /> <img src="http://jerryhager.com/images/JohnRatzenberger.jpg" /><br /><br />Of course I can't imagine the circumstances that would result in Peter Gabriel & John Ratzenberger appearing at the same charity dinner together but I just thought I'd mention it.Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-1162219175443514012006-10-29T19:48:00.000-06:002006-10-30T12:27:25.320-06:00Obscenes From A MallMy decision to brave the Opry Mills Mall on Saturday was rewarded while battling the oncoming shoppers.<br /><br />Middle-aged, overweight man with deep rural Tennessee accent speaking to a similarly built middle-aged man walking anxiously & attentively a half step behind:<br /><br />"You see, this picks up where <strong>Busty Beach Bunnies pt.1</strong> leaves off!"<br /><br /><br />I decided to get an Orange Julius, find a bench & relax a little. Life's too fast. Every once in a while you have to stop & eavesdrop on the locals.Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-1150145041176244952006-10-19T19:29:00.002-05:002011-03-12T08:51:37.015-06:00Neither Snow Nor Rain Nor Booms In The NightI've been at it again. Working on my next big panic attack at the local Lowe's home improvement store. There I was wandering up & down the aisles throwing a tantrum because there was no one in customer service to coddle me & tell me the tiling job is going to be all right. "They're not getting any more of my business... today."<br /><br />Actually while scrambling for an exit I darted down the mail box aisle. There they had the absolute most ridiculous mail boxes I've ever seen. Apparently they now have them made entirely [post & all] of hollow green & yellow plastic with exaggerated round corners like those awful plastic playground sets you see in people's FRONT yards these days. There were pictures of the mail boxes in action & had they not included a proportional adult, I would have mistaken the place for a Toys-R-Us [Where's the backwards R on this keyboard?].<br /><br />It reminded me of a forgotten sport we had where I grew up in rural Michigan. Mail Box Baseball was America's 2nd favorite past time - at least for those who didn't have cable. That's where one guy is behind the wheel of his $300 OldsmoBuick & a second guy is kneeling in the passenger seat hanging out the window with a baseball bat. You drive down a farm road or a not-so-dense subdivision & just wail the crap out of all the mail boxes. Doesn't that sound like fun?<br /><br />Sometimes they forego the bat & just mow down the post & all with the car. For this you need an old car with a lot of mass. Your '94 Tercel won't take the really good posts down - the ones sitting on a railroad tie. But I tend to think the real reason for ramming a mail box with your bumper rather than bashing it with a bat says... you can't find a friend to do the swinging.<br /><br />One Summer a real major leaguer came to town. This guy had to be the Mulo Enojado of some Mexican league. He had a dark colored car so he was hard to see at night. Mostly we just heard him. He ran the roads every few weeks or so. His trademark was that he would plow down every other mail box. Never would he get two in a row. Kind of like "eenie meanie." Or maybe he just "loved <em>us</em> not."<br /><br />No one could ever catch the guy. He was really good at arriving just when we forgot all about him. Sometimes it was as though we were a bunch of border town peasants, always nervous, watching the horizon, afraid Eli Wallach was gonna come riding back into the village.<br /><br />After his rampage through the neighborhood we'd all come out early like Christmas morning to find coal in every other stocking. But mostly we just resigned ourselves to it. There'd be a communal shrug as if to say, "Eh, Whaddaya gonna do?"<br /><br />But it quickly & quietly started to get to my father. He had replaced about four mail boxes & a couple of posts - digging them out, realigning them. After numerous hard days' work & trips to Ace Hardware & neighbors laughing at our whole family circled around him at the end of the driveway as he dug & cursed, my father became obsessed. He began to drift away, paying no attention to family affairs. He took to missing dinners & working late in the garage, looking distant & incessantly inserting the words 'wrath' & 'thee' into quiet conversations he'd have with himself.<br /><br />I'd seen my father get mad many times at many people before, brandishing weapons even. He himself looked like & caused as much fear as Charles Bronson. But this became personal to him. The other neighbors didn't seem to get as riled up as he did. They just put up cheap replacement boxes & let the vandal have his way, knowing it wasn't worth the ulcer. But as this had gone on for a couple of Summers, my father became progressively more & more preoccupied. He plotted & schemed. He studied history books on strategic warfare & had pored over diagrams of various sedan-slinging trebuchets & other medieval devices.<br /><br />But one day after another dark visit from the bully vandal & my father had installed the new mailbox & post, he seemed a little less stressed. A little more satisfied. Still a little maniacal, but satisfied. I didn't think anything of it.<br /><br />Then... a few weeks later. Midnight. It was a quiet Summer night with all the windows open - we didn't have air conditioning. Other than crickets & such, the neighborhood was almost as quiet as the house. Except you could hear the faint sound of the bug light at the farm next door zapping flies every few seconds. I was in my bed, having a hard time sleeping as usual. Just drifting in & out.<br /><br />Gradually the sound of the crickets & frogs gave way to a muffled roar of tires on gravel & dirt. It came fast over the hill where my bus stop was. Then loudly down the hill. It seemed closer than even the road was, mostly because my ears were so accustomed to the quiet of the night. And then right in front of our house quickly the sound ended in a transient single bang of metal crunching & a quick dirt skid.<br /><br />The crickets had shut up immediately. Everything went silent. Even the idiot flies managed to avoid the zapper for a moment. A few seconds or so & then his tires spun, throwing gravel. Then a slow squeak-squeak sound of the car limping down the road slowly out of ear-shot.<br /><br />I laid silently in my bed for a few seconds. Wondering if I should wake my folks & tell them some dink had just hit one of our trees. But as quickly as the thought came to me, I heard my father at the other end of the silent house.<br /><br />"Got you, you sucker."<br /><br />It seems that when my father installed the new mail box, he had welded a plain black box atop a 6-inch pipe, 12 feet long which he had sunk 9 feet into the ground & <strong>filled to the brim with cement</strong>. He poured cement into the ground 10 inches around the pipe. Then he collected his tools & cords & cement mixer & purposefully walked them all back up the long drive to the garage. Each trip he would spin to look back at his work - both inspecting from a distance to see if it looked innocent enough, but also celebrating & gloating a bit. He'd smile walking backwards, arms full of dangling extension cords & trowels.<br /><br />He had built a barricade designed to kill. And then waited up for weeks - listening & hoping. For one night - <em>this </em>night. I'm told after he said those words from his bed, he rolled over & slept like a baby till morning.<br /><br />From my father we learned to keep our eyes on our goals. Don't stray. Keep focused. Do what you're good at. He didn't really say it in those words but we picked up on his example. He always had a way of illustrating how important it was to work through life's challenges. This was one of them. He conquered & then gloated. Just like the time he stopped the neighbor's dogs from coming into the garage & chewing up his workboots by wiring the laces up to a live toaster cord.<br /><br />It worked.<br /><br /><br />P.S.<br />We went back to the old house this weekend & the damned thing is still in tact, like a bunker over the <a href="http://images.travelpod.com/users/stevelegassick/france_sep_2004.1094227200.german-bunker.jpg">Omaha Beachhead</a>.<br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/images/mailbox.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://jerryhager.com/images/mailbox.jpg" width="400" alt="The rocks are little monuments for all those who died trying to take the mailbox."></a>Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-1154983012120677132006-08-07T15:25:00.000-05:002006-08-07T15:50:02.253-05:00Is He Ever Going To Write Again?Question - Did you ever see David Gilmour & Christopher Plummer in the same place at the same time?<br /><br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/odds/dg.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 175px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/odds/dg.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><a href="http://jerryhager.com/odds/cp.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 175px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/odds/cp.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Actually my friend Gordie pointed that out to me today. That doesn't really count as a journal entry but I thought it was worth mentioning, at least quietly.<br /><br />More to come soon. [Mostly about nothing]Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-1149614643301791812006-06-06T12:18:00.000-05:002006-06-06T15:35:45.693-05:00Coming at you live from a WiFi Starbucks somewhere in AmericaHow 'bout this one that's been flying around everyone's email...<br /><br /><object width="380" height="300"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/aVWhVSPngBw"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/aVWhVSPngBw" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"></embed></object><br /><br />I love America. We need to preserve our rare & precious culture. <br /><br />...How soon is that <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/05/28/AR2006052800124.html" target="_blank">fence</a> going to be built?Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-1144955270897712672006-04-13T14:04:00.000-05:002006-04-13T15:59:16.086-05:00Short & Sweet &... Salty... & Crunchy... & Good With BeerGot this link from my asbestos-house-buying sister...<br /><br /><a href="http://www.drugfree.org/Portal/DrugIssue/MethResources/faces/index.html" target="_blank"><strong>Faces Of Meth</strong></a><br /><br />Shocking. I guess it's supposed to be. <br /><br />The internet is a great tool for dissuading <a href="http://jerryhager.com/odds/hushpuppies/hushpuppies.htm" target="_blank"><strong>certain vices</strong></a>.<br /><br /><br />...sorry about that.Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-1141928092602958232006-03-09T12:00:00.000-06:002006-03-20T14:52:22.073-06:00The Big FugitiveEver get sleepy driving? On my way home last night I felt pretty drowsy. Could hardly keep my eyes focused on the road. I did that little Homer Simpson thing where I started dreaming I was driving my king bed. Then [blink] I was flying my bed like a plane through the clouds. [blink] Leaned back, closed my eyes & nestled myself into the pillow - the bed soaring like a magic carpet with little angels at each post carrying me safely to some far away quiet land with an ocean breeze where it's always 72 degrees, mostly sunny & a 10% chance of showers.<br /><br />No I hadn't been drinking. I was just exhausted.<br /><br />I had already fallen asleep twice at the Belle & Sebastian show earlier in the evening. So my thinking was, if you're getting sleepy, speed up so you can get in bed sooner. After all, don't want to be out here on the road where I could run somebody over, eh?<br /><br />Then I started to dream again. This time I was fishing - back home in Michigan. Standing in the painfully cold water of an Upper Peninsula stream. Wearing belly-high waders & a floppy <a href="http://jerryhager.com/odds/henry_blake.jpg" target="_blank">Col. Henry Blake</a> hat. Chilly night. So quiet in the woods that the water over the rocks seemed deafening. [In my dreams, I know how to fly-fish. I'm terrible at it in real life. I take out branches & small birds.] Holding the fly-rod still for a moment, I looked up & saw the <a href="http://stardate.org/resources/gallery/gallery_detail.php?id=598" target="_blank">Northern Lights</a> & how dazzling they were. It was a nice peaceful dream. I just stood there pausing in wonderment of nature & how beautiful God had made this world. <br /><br />Then I started to come out of it. Waking up, uncomfortably. "Those aren't the Northern Lights. Those are blue flashing lights... in the rear-view mirror. Aww damnit!"<br /><br />I pulled off the road into a church parking lot AT THE END OF MY STREET. A block from my house. Brilliant. When the cop asked me where I lived, I pointed across the parking lot toward my house.<br /><br />- "Right over there."<br /><br />Officer Nightshift McGee - "You live in the Church?"<br /><br />- "No, McGruff. Behind it in the dumpster. I have to leave for a few hours every Saturday when they have the Kountry Kraft Flea Market in the parking lot."<br /><br />Actually, he was pretty cool. I know that Nashville police are under a tighter watch with the new chief. They're not really allowed to let so many people off anymore. Too bad for me, I guess.<br /><br />But I did fall asleep while he wrote the speeding ticket. He had to wake me up to get me to sign his book. I signed it, "<a href="http://jerryhager.com/odds/iggy.jpg" target="_blank">Jim Ignatowski</a>"<br /><br />Maybe I should put more effort into being a big celebrity so I can say, "Do you know who I am?!" <br /><br />To which any good officer would reply, "<a href="http://us.imdb.com/name/nm0733678/" target="_blank">Moe Greene</a>?"Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-1139258302938423862006-02-06T14:27:00.000-06:002006-03-03T16:55:44.730-06:00I Used To Do This, But With Pictures Of Karl MaldenGot this from ANONYMOUS. Thought I'd post the pics as I received them.<br /><br />Apparantly ANONYMOUS got mixed up with the wrong crowd at the February 4th Jerry Hager show & succumbed to peer pressure. Everyone was doing it - Rip Jerry's face out of a postcard & voila! <a href="http://burlingamepezmuseum.com/classictoy/color.html" target="_blank">COLORFORMS</a> - The Jerry Hager Edition.<br /><br /><em>Hail Jerry, full of grace...<br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/images/santajeria.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/images/santajeria.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Wait, that's not Guinness.<br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/images/chimayjerry.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/images/chimayjerry.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />A fan recreating the episode that featured Jerry on <a href="http://www.cops.com/" target="_blank">COPS</a>.<br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/images/copsjerry.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/images/copsjerry.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Here we see another friend of The Jerry Hager Show considering dying her hair to match Jerry's.<br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/images/anonymousjerry.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/images/anonymousjerry.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Hips are great but I hear tell that Jerry's more of an ass man.<br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/images/assjerry.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/images/assjerry.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />I caught you a delicious bass.<br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/images/napoleonjerry.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/images/napoleonjerry.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Is it me or does the picture of Jerry look like he's smiling a little more in this one?</em><br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/images/timtayshunjerry.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/images/timtayshunjerry.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />*This one just in! 2/07/2006 23:15:41<br /><em>Sasquatch <font color="#FF0000">heart</font>'s Jerry.</em><br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/images/sasquatchjerry.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/images/sasquatchjerry.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />*Update 2/08/2006 20:58:44<br /><em>What are you hiding, Jerry?</em><br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/images/hidingjerry.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/images/hidingjerry.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />I'm glad you folks liked the words.Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-1138894957708216972006-02-02T09:32:00.000-06:002006-03-06T15:58:29.466-06:00Cooter Kept Me Up All NightThis is fun. A friend showed me this envelope today. It was sent from an embroidery company to a courier company - an envelope containing a letter soliciting business. He asked me, "Would you do business with this company?"<br /><br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/odds/cooterenvelope.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/odds/cooterenvelope.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />I know I'm no Madison Ave type but I'm pretty sure I could get this marketing question right.<br /><br />After I picked myself up off the floor it occurred to me that the handwriting may belong to an elderly person & therefore I'm not allowed to make fun of it, right? But even so, it's funny because someone decided to mail it out like it was. It passed someone's inspection - good to go. <br /><br />And barring the likelihood that it <em>was </em>written by a 73 year old Parkinson's victim, it's funny picturing the other possibilities. First thing to come to my mind is some 9 year old with her cheek on the kitchen table, eyes practically closed at 11:30 at night filling out the 212th envelope sitting across from her father who's saying, "You're helping Daddy with his new business. Isn't this fun? Wake up honey. You've got stamps in your hair." <br /><br />So I opened it.<br /><br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/odds/cooterletter.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/odds/cooterletter.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />I kid you not, this is exactly how it was printed - as crooked as you see. Like the guy made copies at a nickel copier next to the time-clock & rental steam-cleaners at Piggly Wiggly. <br /><br />And then... I saw the e-mail address. And please, please don't e-mail this guy. I don't want to embarrass him. I just want to make fun of him behind his back.<br /><br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/odds/cooteremail.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/odds/cooteremail.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />"Corporateservice" huh? Let's see what was that e-mail domain again? I got the "Corporateservice" part but what was the rest of it? I know I know it. It's on the tip of my tongue.<br /><br />I guess this makes me an immature 12 year old. Well, <em>writing </em>about it makes me an ambitious 12 year old. The incessant giggling is what makes me immature. As evidenced by the fact that when my sister got her new job at a prison healthcare company, I jumped up & down saying, "Wow! Now when someone asks what you do you can use the word <strong>Penal</strong>!"Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-1137775083876988492006-01-20T10:32:00.000-06:002006-03-23T07:33:16.850-06:00WARNING: Serious Blog AheadThis being the epitome of cliche notwithstanding, the need to write this is powerful. <br /><br />Dear diary,<br /><br />I just got spam with the subject "Haunted by your past?"<br /><br />Actually no. I'm not. If anything, I'm taunted by my present.<br /><br />As is typical for me these days, I've been second guessing myself a bit. To the point I sometimes have little imaginary power-meetings in my head with anyone I think I should be listening to. But only people that I think I can guess at what they would say. Let's see, this morning sitting around the table, there was me, God, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001233/" target="_blank">Robert Forster</a>... the list goes on.<br /><br />See, in the last day I've really been thinking hard & even worrying about some things that I shouldn't be. Things that I have no control of. Well that isn't saying much - other than choices [& occasionally our bowels], we don't really have control of anything do we? Just the way we react, I guess. Anyway, it was all over relationship stuff & I was worrying to the point of asking for some simple recognizable indication from God or whoever was listening as to what to do, how to react, how to perceive it - or even just a sign telling me which direction to face.<br /><br />From what I hear, we all do this at some point in our lives. From time to time we all get all spiritual & ask God for a <em>sign</em> or some such nonsense when we're so confused or worried about that one thing that inevitably happens - Life. <br /><br />So I had this meeting of the minds, <em>in</em> my mind, while on my way to an appointment at the medical center. As I walked into the lobby I noticed a man sitting in a chair, motionless. He was in his sixties I think. He was completely bald. No hair anywhere on his face or arms. That & the fact that he was sitting outside the cancer center led me to conclude that he was going through chemotherapy. I'm quick like that you know. <br /><br />Anyway, he didn't look long for this world. Almost everything about him gave you that impression. His still posture in the chair, the absence of muscle on his arms, his feet lightly pointed all caddywompus. Everything but his eyes. <br /><br />His face looked bereft of spirit but his eyes looked at me - almost through me- with so much life that I felt joy & shame at the same time. Despite using this phrase many times in the past, it bears repeating: it was like standing in the presence a of woman so beautiful that you feel ashamed of your own ugliness.<br /><br />I walked on.<br /><br />A few steps past him I pushed the up button for the elevator. As I mulled the old man over & waited, a middle-aged woman rolled a young girl in a wheel-chair up next to me. The girl was frail. She was clearly very sick. The doors opened just as they arrived. I paused so they could get on. Going by me the young girl looked up with the grandest smile.<br /><br />"Wow, that was lucky. We didn't even have to wait."<br /><br />I agreed because usually those elevators are pretty slow. And I'm usually pretty late.<br /><br />We were all in & the doors closed. As her mother was looking at a map of the clinic & cancer center, the young girl - the prettiest thing in her wavy dark hair - kept looking at me & smiling. It seemed as though to make sure I had thought about what she had said. I started to feel sick. Something about her made me feel like she knew me.<br /><br />I got off at the 3rd floor.<br /><br />Still puzzled a little I turned to look back at her, rounded a corner & almost ran into a slowly walking man & woman. The woman was supporting the guy by his left elbow. He had a serious limp; was barely making any ground at all. He must've been in pain because every step was gingerly taken. <br /><br />Even though I dodged the man, I still brushed up against his beige wind-breaker going around his right. With my feet still moving I spun around toward them & caught his smiling eyes & said, truthfully, that I was sorry & I wasn't watching where I was going. <br /><br />In an unsarcastic tone, very genuine, the man said so that I could hear, "Let's get out of the way. He's got somewhere to be." I know it sounds sarcastic & hateful but his tone was clearly honest. It was kind of like when you were a child & your grandfather gets excited for you about the smallest things & it seems fake but you know he means it. The man sounded like he was trying to apologize for being out of place & in my way by affirming that I was important enough to be given passage.<br /><br />I turned & walked on.<br /><br />But then... in no time at all... a few steps & my feet went numb. I felt like I could collapse right there in the hall, in front of the limping couple. <br /><br />My head was swimming. In just a mere moment my own life started to play out in my head. I wasn't ready for it.<br /><br />The time I was impaled in the abdomen, the car accident that took many of my memories & personality, the emergency appendectomy in the middle of the night, the minor heart attack at the age of 35. All the times that life was handed back to me to spend how I chose. To think about what I would buy with it. The gifts I had not yet said thank you for. How much shame I felt in a single moment. More than I may have felt in an entire life. <br /><br />But with it immediately came relief. Relief from my current worry. Like water over a handful of sand. And there again... underneath... was joy. <br /><br />Just then, slowly, the images of each of the wonderful eyes I had just walked so quickly past began to appear. One after another. It hit me so blindingly & painfully. My heart hurt.<br /><br />Did I just walk past & brush off three different strangers? Or maybe it was one very familiar pair of eyes. Did they belong to the one I had been praying & pleading to? Was that one trying to tell me something? Flying from one set of eyes to the next, staring at me? Watching me closely to see that I'm listening? To see that I'm hearing the message? A message that didn't come out of the sky or from a flaming bush? A message that could only be delivered in terms I could understand?<br /><br />It feels to me that I almost missed it. There in that hallway, the cold chill, the weakness that took me over, the burning in my gut. It feels to me now that, as hokey & predictable as it sounds, we must miss countless signs & messages everyday. How many times have we been looking in the face of God & just walked on? How many times has the voice of God been hovering just beneath the noise floor we've gotten so used to & yet we don't even notice? It feels to me that in the end, life really <em>is </em>easy. We're the ones who make it hard.<br /><br />I'm thankful & glad I noticed. <br /><br />And embarrassed at my pettiness. How long will it be before I need to be reminded again. Probably already do.Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-1137593227720477252006-01-18T07:54:00.000-06:002006-01-18T09:15:46.853-06:00Word Of The Day, 1/18/06<b>ther·a·pist</b> ( P ) <a class="linksrc" title="Click for guide to symbols." onclick="ahdpop();return false;" href="http://dictionary.reference.com/help/ahd4/pronkey.html" target="_blank">Pronunciation Key</a> (thr' ê-píst) n.<br /><blockquote>Person who knows how many pounds of grapes I eat in a week... The real number.</blockquote>Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-1135697621267224432005-12-27T09:27:00.001-06:002010-01-17T07:54:29.341-06:00Christmas In July... The 4th Of July.Without going into the reasons, usually I don't give Christmas gifts. But this year my folks got a gift from me at their house in Florida. I made a surprise visit on Christmas Eve after telling them for months that I was not going to be able to make it. When I showed up, my mother cried. So did my aunt. And I'm pretty sure I saw my brother cry as he appeared to be dividing in his head one more person into eight slices of pizza.<br /><br />But it was a nice treat [& retreat] for me too.<br /><br />For instance, we <a href="http://jerryhager.com/odds/boat.jpg" target="_blank">took the boat</a> out on the Ocklawaha & St. Johns Rivers. My dad & I sawed & sanded & made some nice shelves out of wood from two cedar trees cut down out front. And I ate oranges. Yes sir, I ate oranges <a href="http://jerryhager.com/odds/oranges.jpg" target="_blank">right off the trees in the back yard</a>... on Christmas Day. Nice way to spend Christmas if you ask me.<br /><br />But really the icing on the cake was when I couldn't wait to get back & document all the strange things that were stuck in my head the whole way home.<br /><br />Among the odd things I encountered on the road-trip:<br /><br /><strong>Jackson, GA: This ad was posted over a urinal at the Flying J truck stop along I-75.</strong><br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/odds/beermushrooms.gif" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand" alt="CANADIANS SCREWED AGAIN." src="http://jerryhager.com/odds/beermushrooms.gif" border="0" /></a><br />Now why... why are the Canadians not getting the beer batter? That doesn't even make sense. I could understand if it was the Kountry Kitchen's location in Abu Dhabi but Canada's not exactly a tee-totaling nation.<br /><br /><blockquote>*By the way, this is not the actual photo. The one I took didn't come out very well. I was rushed due to the intimidating & scornful looks from the other men in the restroom as they saw me getting a camera out at the urinal asking for help setting it to 'Macro'.</blockquote><br /><strong>Keystone Heights, FL: For the first time I took B.B. to McDonald's for coffee & a McGriddle.</strong><br />Here he is getting his head around the concept.<br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/odds/drivethru.jpg" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand" alt="B.B. on the drive-thru idea: That is the sexiest thing I have ever seen." src="http://jerryhager.com/odds/drivethru.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><em>"Let me get this straight. You drive up close to the building & they just.. HAND.. YOU.. FOOD.. THROUGH.. THE.. WINDOW?!"</em><br /><br /><br /><strong>Nickajack Lake, TN: Thirty-six empty cans of Busch under a bush.</strong><br /><a href="http://jerryhager.com/odds/mmmbeer.jpg" target="_blank"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://jerryhager.com/odds/mmmbeer.jpg" border="0" alt="It's a Busch bush. The seeds don't fall very far away, do they?" /></a><br />Must have been quite a Christmas.<br /><br /><br /><strong>Finally, Valdosta, GA: They were celebrating the 4th a little early.</strong><br /><a href="http://www.uncandles.com/uncandles_home.html" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand" alt="Damn it Roy. I know it's called the 'UN-Candle' but you still can't light it in here." src="http://jerryhager.com/odds/fireworks2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Cracking wise about this is clearly unnecessary. But I do find it odd that I was the only one at the scene who thought it was funny.<br /><br /><br />And these are the stupid things that are gonna stick with me the longest. This is why I never see the larger picture. I keep taking the smaller ones. I keep staring at my shoes... that someone's thrown into the <a href="http://jerryhager.com/odds/shoes.jpg" target="_blank">power lines</a>.<br /><br />So, hope everyone's year & holidays were capital. For the coming year, take a trip. Surprise someone. Take stupid pictures. Smart off every chance you get. Oh, & don't feed your dog hash browns. You'll regret it.Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-1133890285492188122005-12-06T11:23:00.001-06:002009-10-28T09:18:09.554-05:00Where's my security appendage?Anybody seen this? I'm not <em>trying</em> to ruin anyone's Christmas surprise but the fact is some of you might be getting this.<br /><br />Ladies & Gentlemen,<br /><strong><a href="http://www.findgift.com/gift-ideas/pid-64094/" target ="_blank">The Boyfriend Arm Pillow</a></strong><br />[Right now the thing is on backorder so don't get too excited.]<br /><br />What in the world? I've seen some <a href="http://v3.espacenet.com/textdoc?CY=ep&LG=en&IDX=GB2221607" target="_blank">odd things</a> on the internet but holy outcast!<br /><br />And it's half a torso! So your imaginary boyfriend is the victim of a horrible shark attack? Notice it's the Boyfriend Pillow. They know good & well that if they had named it the Husband Pillow it'd have to have a pot belly, an untucked "Kiss My Bass" T-shirt & you wouldn't be able to snuggle up to it cus it smells like motor oil & a fart.<br /> <br />I wonder if the Girlfriend Pillow is just two legs. Maybe we should market <em>that</em>.<br /> <br />How 'bout this for ad copy?<br /><br /><blockquote><strong>GIRLFRIEND PILLOW</strong><br /><br />[insert picture of two-legged pillow with Jerry's head nestled at home plate with eyes closed & pleasant smile]<br /><br /><strong>Even though you'd rather be curled up on the couch alone, this is the next best thing with comforting legs that wrap around you as if to say, "Wanna go to Hooters for dinner?" or "No, I think that poster from Death Wish II looks a lot better on the mantle than the picture of my mother," all the stuff you'd never hear from a real girlfriend.<br /><br />Polyester, filled with snuggly foam [rather than deceit, like the real thing]. Complete with <a href="http://www.cafepress.com/jerryhagerstore.14622154" target="_blank">G-String</a> & small feet. Imported. 37" waist x 22" inseam, you know, a size 4. Sorry, discreet packaging not available, you freak.</strong></blockquote>Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-1132081270706366802005-11-16T09:51:00.001-06:002008-10-09T08:09:27.170-05:00I Like To Call It My Thinking CapIn frustration with a few people I know, earlier yesterday I began to think, "I know I've quipped something philosophical & poignant about this at some point in my life."<br /><br />Problem was, I couldn't remember it. You know, I feel as young as I ever did. And even though I'm becoming a bigger baby with each passing day, perhaps memory is starting to go. This is the first sign of it anyway. Or maybe it's happened before, I don't remember.<br /><br />This is why I think we should start giving out PDAs to all the old people before they start dropping like extras in <strong><a href="http://imdb.com/title/tt0097441/" target="_blank">Glory</a></strong>, taking with them the meaning of life or a recipe for fried apples or something invaluable like that.<br /><br />All I could come up with are odd things I've said at one time or another that don't really add up to a philosophy but did get me quoted & sometimes smacked. In listing them I now find it a little hard to believe I never made it into the good schools. <br /><br />Things like:<br /><br />- "Never consider your options after dropping an apple in the toilet."<br /><br />- "I may be alone but I ain't wrong."<br /><br />- Woman, to me at a party: "You can judge a man by the way he dances."<br />- Me, to woman's friend: "You can judge a woman by the way she judges a man."<br /><br />- "If your girlfriend's stack of self-help books is taller than your stack of nudie books, it's not going to work out."<br /><br />- "It's hard to impress someone after they've watched you have a heart attack."<br /><br /><br />If that's all I've learned in this life, I'll have to take it. When I was younger I was told that I was mature & learned for my age. But now I've noticed that with some things it's taken me a little longer to pick up on than everyone else. Even people that don't know which way the <em>moon</em> is seem to learn a few things along the way. Either it's just an impression I get of others or I really <em>am</em> as dense as a Yonkers diamond.<br /><br />Although I don't think we're here to just learn lessons, things do go a little smoother when we pick up on the occasional omen. Some people can just cut things off cold at a looming foreshadow. My mother quit smoking in a day. My friend broke up with a girl at an airport right before the flight. Another friend quit his job out of the blue the other day. None of these people have looked back with doubt. <br /><br />Me, I tend to keep faith alive. And when I <em>do</em> make a grand leap, it's usually a mistake in the sense that it isn't based on lessons learned in life but rather on lessons learned watching Hardcastle & McCormick.<br /><br />Maybe it's time to admit that in a few years I'll be shopping at Kroger with my hockey helmet on cus I keep banging my head on the meat case. I'm not going down without a fight though. I promise, I'm taking good notes from here on out. Quiz me, I'll be ready.Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-1129755667229669372005-10-19T15:43:00.000-05:002005-10-25T14:22:06.736-05:00The Lone Onion TheoryFor the first time in a while I perused my stats on my website today. But looking at those reports I think they're almost too much info. I don't want to know what version of Mozilla some of you are using. And I don't need to know that .8% of you are translating my rants into Dutch. By the way, if any of you .8% are in Amsterdam & are interested in putting a discreet American [with a leftover oat or two] up for a month, I'd like to hear from you. I can be reached at <a href="mailto:booyaa@jerryhager.com?subject=Amsterdam, huh? Don't forget your Med-Alert bracelet.">booyaa@jerryhager.com</a>.<br /><br />Anyway, in said report is an interesting list of search strings entered into Google.com to get to my site.<br /><br /><strong>Search strings to locate <a href="http://jerryhager.com" target="_blank">JerryHager.com</a></strong><br /><em><br /><blockquote>scandalous<br />lap dance<br />fluffer nutter<br />someday i'll understand<br />chaffed thighs<br />assassination of mayor mccheese<br />abbey hoffman<br />old guy on santa's lap<br />jerry hall leopard skin photo<br />skoal lid collection</blockquote><br /></em><br />Believe it or not I can see why a couple of them are listed. But the one I'm having the most trouble with is "assassination of mayor mccheese". Who's searching for this? Is there some conspiracy theory out there that I missed involving Grimace & those Fry Guys? Anyway, when I find where in my site I've written those words, I will issue a public retraction.<br /><br /><br />By the way, I do NOT apologize for "old guy on santa's lap". That, I will never take back.Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-1127331254308243522005-09-21T14:29:00.000-05:002005-09-22T11:17:44.916-05:00Their Logo Is Blue For A ReasonI must be the only person I know that admits to going into a Wal-Mart. There are plenty of good reasons to boycott, but I only have one spurious reason <em>not</em> to - they carry the kind of toothpaste I like. If you can tell me where else to find Pearl Drops without having to get my tires muddy on my way to Judge Beans BBQ on Saturdays for more of my own personal on-going gall bladder experiments, I'm all ears.<br /><br />This last Saturday found me with the regular itinerary [got my Symptoms Of Gastric Anomalies journal right here]. I'd never been to this particular Wally World location though. It just opened, I think. I'm not sure how you could tell anyway. They all look the same. Plus, those places are huge. Maybe astronomers can date them by their gravity signature, I don't know.<br /><br />Went through my ritual of slowly creeping into a parking spot so as not to run over the poorly enunciating youth that appear suddenly out of nowhere. Parked my H3 [joke] & as I walked the gauntlet toward the doors, I tried to psych myself out to prevent my imminent panic attack. Curtly passed THE GREETER [if <em>that's</em> not the new touchstone of 'demeaning' you tell me what is] & barreled straight to the Dental Health aisle. As usual I grabbed all 5 boxes of Triple Action Pearl Drops that they had & pointed back toward the insanity they got going on up front at the registers.<br /><br />Decided to go through that 'U-Scan' thing so I wouldn't have to talk to anyone in a blue vest. But on the way, something caught my eye. It was a rack of discounted DVDs. I know, I know. That's how they get you, isn't it? But they had a movie I really like for really cheap. It was 'Glengarry Glen Ross'. $7.50! And as I just can't pass up a bargain [if you can believe it, I once purchased 8 pounds of over-ripe bananas at the fruit market because they were 15 cents a pound], I nabbed it & proceeded to the closest open do-it-your-own-damned-self register.<br /><br />Now, I am, without a doubt, one fast mother on ATMs & U-Scans. I can be done & in the car playing with the radio when most people are still trying to find their Kroger Plus cards. That said, I had just scanned all my loot & immediately noticed that the lady behind me in line is all up & crowding me. She's so close I can hear the person she's talking to on her flip-phone - yes, over all the noise IN A BUSY WAL-MART! Man was she in a hurry. She must have had to get back home to her Ritalin Rats before they ate all the Snackwells.<br /><br />So in an attempt to avoid getting all flame-thrower on her ass, I just chanted to myself, "Be nice. She's probably buying stuff for Katrina victims." And I tried to accelerate through the <em>Select Payment Type</em> section. And so help me, the machine says & displays the following: "Halt! Restricted Item. You are surrounded. Please wait for Gestapo-Mart Management. Do not attempt to flee." The red light that towers over the register starts blinking as though to pin-point where to drop the bomb.<br /><br />I look to the kiosk where the girl who oversees the self-checkouts is stationed, I guess she's there to make sure we don't cheat by scanning <em>once</em> but bagging <em>twice</em> on the plastic jewelry organizers. And she's staring blankly at her screen, looking puzzled like she's having trouble with the colored shapes monkey test she appears to be busy with.<br /><br />What in the world did I scan that is restricted? What in the world does Wal-Mart sell that's restricted? Restricted to what? I honestly was baffled. I continued to wait because I figured she was working someone else's problem... right. Finally a non-blue-vest-wearing official looking man comes walking up. He informs me that the DVD has set off the alert. Seems they don't want children buying such movies.<br /><br />I said, "Such movies? What does that mean?"<br /><br />"Movies with foul language."<br /><br />At this point, the lady behind me is explaining into her phone why she's going to be late for Sangria Night because some jaggoff in front of her at the store can't figure out the U-Scan. So after brandishing a birth certificate, passport, & Members Only Discount Card to Larry Flynt's Hustler Club I was cleared to purchase said filth.<br /><br />I wanted to discuss this policy with the young manager. I wanted to ask him how they arrived at the logic of selling rifles & shotguns in the same store that has a contingency to deal with those who appear to be headed toward the register with an R rated film. Why? We have to protect our children? What kid would want to sit still long enough to watch 'Glengarry Glen Ross' anyway? It might as well be 90 minutes of a security cam shot of a credit union lobby. Any 8 year old you prop up in front of that thing will end up upside down on the couch making dinosaur sounds & kicking the wall.<br /><br />"Yes, Virginia. You can watch all the violence you want on TV & in video games & even practice in the back yard with your new pump action shotgun but we can't let you see this awful movie because Jack Lemmon said 'Fuck'. We're afraid you might start using <em>such</em> words."<br /><br />Well, I let it go & after being frisked on my way out the door by a 72 year old blind man, finally being OK'd by letting him gum my receipt a while, I made it home & a long way from <em>such stores</em>. With all the things in this world we as a society get wrong, this one's an easy one. This one's not even important, which is why you can count on me to broach it. I think this is the kind of logic that leads to manufacturers having to print warnings - such as a can of foot spray that reads, "Don't spray in eyes." Honest to our disappointed God, I saw that once. Or why they have PSLs for NFL stadiums. That's where you buy a license at an obscene price to then buy the season ticket. I just hope it doesn't rub off on me.<br /><br />Maybe I should take the thing back to the customer service counter, wailing about how they sold it to my 7 year old daughter & now she's running around school with a spot-on impression of Pacino yelling about how the place stinks of the principal's farts for a week. Maybe to shut me up they might give me some free toothpaste.<br /><br />Eh, fuck it.Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-1125774223699150662005-09-03T13:45:00.000-05:002005-09-04T00:57:56.306-05:00Get free Jerry Hager music! Seriously.<a href="https://give.redcross.org/?hurricanemasthead" target="_blank"><img src="http://jerryhager.com/images/logo_redcross.gif"></a><br /><br />I don't have anything wise or insightful to say about the awful tragedy that is the Katrina disaster other than I'm moved & sickened & worried. But I can urge everyone to contribute by donating directly to <a href="https://give.redcross.org/?hurricanemasthead" target="_blank">The Red Cross Hurricane Relief Fund</a>. And my way of doing that is to offer to anyone who makes a donation on-line, of any amount, the Jerry Hager catalog free of charge. That includes the 2 CDs <strong><a href="http://jerryhager.com/gmtrack.htm" target="_blank">Gentle Man</a></strong> & <strong><a href="http://jerryhager.com/mfbtrack.htm" target="_blank">Miles From Brushy</a></strong>, plus an extra CD <strong><a href="http://jerryhager.com/wplntrack.htm" target="_blank">The Songwriter Sessions</a></strong> which includes bonus rare material. <br /><br />Just make a donation on-line, print the receipt. [Feel free to black out the amount if you like.] Mail a copy to:<br /><br />Blue Bourbon Music<br />PO Box 293057<br />Nashville, TN 37229<br /><br />Include your shipping address & the CDs will be on the way. <br /><br />So please help out. Donate, pray, count your blessings & enjoy the music.<br /><br /><br />Here's to those who are suffering & to those who come to their aid. God bless all of you.Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7401576.post-1124974163702476872005-08-25T07:36:00.000-05:002005-09-02T07:43:57.450-05:00My DemandsSometimes it's hard to write what's really on your mind in a blog. Especially when you know so many people & their business that there's very little you can relay as an anecdote without a couple of your acquaintances getting together to decode it. The only thing you're left with are the thoughts you have that are not connected to anyone. And the reverse Rorschach representation of <em><strong>my</strong></em> thoughts would simply be of a sleeping mule. Not much going on in there.<br /><br />Of course I have the usual thoughts that just about everyone else has from day to day. Every morning in the shower I think really, really hard on ways I could work it out so I could just towel off & go back to bed without someone showing up at my door saying, "No. No. No. No. No. No. Forget it. I figured you'd try this today. You're coming with me."<br /><br />Or sometimes in my head I subtract from my current age the age that my father was at certain milestones in his life; such as getting married, having children, joining MENSA, TKO'ing Emile Griffith in the 7th round. Do that a few times a week & you go straight to the top of the waiting list for a donor ego. You'll be checking the radio on the fives of the hour to see if Rush Limbaugh or James Woods has been in a car crash.<br /><br />And I used to think way too much about why french fries don't taste like they did as a kid. And don't give me that bilge about them using different cooking oil either. They stopped tasting right a long time ago - before everyone got on these short-attention-span health kicks. I think that if fries tasted like they used to, I'd be as big as... well... a little bigger than I am now.<br /><br />It has to be that things taste different as we age. For instance, I don't like sweets very much. But I remember loving sugar as a youngster. Actually my change in taste probably happened right about the time my mother warned me to stop putting so much syrup on my pancakes. She said that if I didn't stop I'd have to sit at the table until I finished every left-over drop, sans pancakes. Well obviously Special-Ed here doesn't listen, just like the fat kid with his butt sticking out of the chocolate river in Willy Wonka. <br /><br />When I had finished the pancakes, on my plate there was a lake of syrup deep enough to float a bath tub on. And my mother never went back on her word. Even if she wanted to, she never let us see her sweat. Here I am trying to spoon up globs of Log Cabin & somehow get my mouth open for yet another dizzying rush of sugar & nausea. I begged & pleaded but nothing doing. I must have sat there for a half hour. I'd have rather chugged a pint of brine than get that sticky mess anywhere near me after that.<br /><br />My mother hates when I tell that story. It makes her cry. But at least it keeps me away from the cinnamon rolls today. However, that approach didn't have the same effect on my brother when he experimented with smoking. He now smokes like Mel Gibson.<br /><br />Wait a tic, here I am trying to stay away from the tell-tale, breach of trust stories I have on all of you & I start down this dark road of revealing how I was abused as a child. How I was made to work for 15 hours a day in the tobacco fields near Greensboro. How at 8 years old I was forced to drag my father around to pubs & cult meetings in a rickshaw. None of that happened. I had the cushiest childhoood & am always surprised to be reminded of it when I hear other peoples' stories about their families. Some of you people are weeiirrd.<br /><br />So be nice to me. You see how easy it is for me to start rambling? One day I might get to something on you. I could tell that one about the wedding in Mexico City, <em>Laura</em>. Or the story about the encounter with the great looking "woman" in the men's room at The Chute, <em>Barry</em>. So, as for my demands; I will require a slice of pizza...Jerry Hagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01476789084142496076noreply@blogger.com0