Monday, February 25, 2008


Guestpost by Golf Widow

I shall rant.

About Britney Spears, whom Bud is sensible enough to ignore, and I am not.

Recently, my friend Six Weasels had quite a lot of rational things to say about Britney Spears, not the least of which was the following, snipped directly from her Vox blog:

"It seems that according to whoever does these photos, if Britney keeps down her current path by the time she's 40-something she'll be fat, saggy, pudgy-faced, washed-out looking, have crappy hair and sport a mouthful of yellow teeth.

"I have two questions about this: 1. Why is this news? [and] 2. Why are we so freaking mean, both to Britney who is already obviously disturbed and to women who might look like that already?"

She added, as a response to a comment:

"We seek validation in famous people's screwups or perceived failures. It really is sad."

It's a great post in its entirety, by the way. Check it out:

I started to comment myself, but what I had to say began formulating itself into an entity of itself, and it occurred to me that I'd better pick up my soapbox and go home.

Or, in this case, go to Bud's, because, if nothing else, the two words "Britney" and "Spears" in his blog might push him up the Google ladder, and people, if you surfed in here looking for Britney, you'd do well to notice that Bud's just released a wonderful, musically proficient, highly listenable CD, whereas Britney has, I believe, a new psychiatrist.

It's up to you to decide where your ears might be better entertained, is what I'm saying.

Here are my thoughts on Britney Bashing.

Speaking for myself, I do, indeed, as Six Weasels put it, seek validation in famous people's screwups or perceived failures, but I know that the reason I do so is that I have this tiny ingrained misconception that famous people look down on me, and I'm gratified when they fall back down to my level, or below it.

I'm not proud of this, but at least I own it. I want to believe, furthermore, that I'm not alone in this.

Also, I'm constantly examining why Britney Spears is still interesting to the world. Presumably, she's a celebrity because she's a singer, but when was the last time she had a hit song? Every time she shows up in the news again, without having done anything to further her actual career, and we (collectively) lap it up, I can't help thinking that we couldn't lap it up if she hadn't spilled it to begin with.

This leads me to the circuitous but plausible logic that suggests that, since she is incapable of anything to add to her body of marketable (at best) work, she's spilling all this other crap deliberately.

The fact that I buy into it, myself, is annoying to me, but again, I'm owning it. And again, I want to believe that I'm not alone in it.

Now if I could only be sensible, like Bud, and ignore her.

posted by Bud @ 8:27 AM

Friday, February 22, 2008


Bud's got an itchy mouseclicking finger and bought another guest post from me.

This is going to be short. It's just a bit of brain-confetti that suddenly exploded out of my head and said, "PARTY!"

I don't know how many of you remember the television show "E/R!" I'm pretty sure Bud doesn't, since he hates television and everything it stands for.

Ah. Lots of hands.

Now, if I say, "I don't mean the hour-long drama that started in the '90s - I mean the half-hour sitcom that started and ended really quickly in the '80s ..."

... Ah. Most of those hands have gone down.

There really was another "E/R!" before "ER." (Note the different spellings.) Oddly, George Clooney was in both of them.

Elliott Gould was only in the sitcom one, but he was in the film "Ocean's Eleven" with George Clooney, and that ought to count as a reunion of sorts.

Anyway, in the sitcom version, there was a character named Thor. She was a nurse, a buxom, loud, no-nonsense funny-as-hell fantastic nurse.

Her husband, named Bud, was never seen on the show. He was referred to frequently, like Vera on "Cheers," but you never saw him. He was, like our Bud, a songwriter.

The only other Thor-person I've ever encountered (dogs don't count) is the spouse of another blogfriend of mine. He's not a songwriter, but his wife, my blogfriend, is named Kathy.

Bud Buckley's wife is named Cathy.

This sort of thing happens in my head on a regular basis. I think I'd better go lie down now.

NOTE FROM BUD: Yeah, I'm too busy to write. You noticed, huh? But Golfwidow is out of work and posting for dollars. Not enough dollars in my estimation. You could help her out and get a witty guest post for the paltry sum of $2.00. Better yet, you could buy her very funny book, "Getting My Think On." I just bought another from Amazon to send to my sister. There may be a vendor who gives her a better cut. Visit her site to find out. You won't be sorry.

posted by Bud @ 7:11 AM

Monday, February 11, 2008


I'm hoping that those of you out there who like my music would take a minute to vote for one of my songs, "I Still Remember (How That Feels), at They ask you to register and log in. If that isn't too much of an annoyance, I'd appreciate it. If you'd rather not be on their list of listeners, I understand.

A couple of years ago I reported on the birth and short life and death of a Sandhill crane chick. The pond in our back yard is a nesting place but they are very territorial. Only one couple of these monogamous birds, breed there each spring. Oh, it is spring here in south west Florida. It always seems like spring or summer.

I didn't write about them last year but we had a successful hatching of two chicks and they made it to at least adolescence. It gets hard to tell them apart after a bit. I didn't pay them as much attention, sparing myself from getting too attached. I didn't want to be as devastated by what is a high percentage mortality rate in a place with breeding bald eagles and bobcats and gators. And the occasional panther.
sand hill crane

I did witness an eagle hovering above one chick who had a habit of lagging behind the family. Amazingly, sir eagle was run off by a squadron of red winged black birds! Who knew?

I've been watching the courting and nesting habits of these cranes for a couple of weeks now. I'm gonna assume it's the same pair as last year. Just based on my observation of how territorial they are at this time of year. Bizarre behavior. They built a nest in the marsh. I can't swear they have eggs yet. I keep watching to see if Momma is sitting more than standing. I should read up on this and stop guessing. But I have too little time.

Mr. Crane is all protective. Attacking his own reflection in people's windows and destroying their screens. We all put up with it. A great blue heron has decided to occupy the same marsh. This is also bizarre since herons nest in trees. This must be a single dude. Or he's just retarded. But he provides a threat and a daily drama.

I'll report on the progress of this event but it's not guaranteed to end well. Just want to be realistic. I won't be writing a song with the words crane or heron or marsh or chick in it. Whatever lessons I learn might appear in a song totally unrelated to the wild kingdom. That's the way I prefer to work.

Of all the completely amazing birds down here, the cranes have become my favorites. I can't understand why as they are goofy and arrogant. I hate politicians like that so go figure.

posted by Bud @ 10:35 PM

Wednesday, February 06, 2008


Note from Bud: Golfwidow is a close friend and blogger who has run into some horrible luck recently and is blogging for dollars. Anybody would be lucky to have her appear on your blog. Please give her a read and check her out HERE to see how you can help.

by Golf Widow

I'm guest-posting for Bud, today. If you haven't bought his CD yet, IT'S ABOUT TIME you did.

See what I did, there?

Oh, yeah, I'm just one big yuck after another.

Anyway, Bud and I share a humongous fondness for all things musical, with the main divergence being that he also has a massive talent for making music, whereas my own musical prowess appears to max out at listening and clapping.

Hey, somebody has to be the audience.

It's not that no one will appreciate the music if no one is listening (even if it's only yourself, someone's listening).

It's that, without people like me, there is no market for watery, overpriced beer and cheap t-shirts emblazoned with band logos and tour dates.

Not to mention that, if there's no one in the audience, there's no one waiting in a five-mile-long line to have a go at the Port-a-Potty, and then, there goes the economy.

Oh, wait. The economy, it is already long gone. Never mind.

But it's okay. I'm out of work and I don't play guitar, but I have a pink baseball hat. Let the president say the same.

Sorry ... didn't mean to get political. I'm just going to sit here quietly and wait for Bud to go on tour.

I'll be the one with watery beer spilled down her front. (It's an occupational hazard, when one's instrument of choice is two hands clapping.)

posted by Bud @ 7:02 AM