Monday, February 27, 2006

Brain Bouillabaisse

I had a thought last night. No offense to my Catholic friends, but I want to sneak into a church sometime right before communion and replace the "body of Christ" wafers with Chili Cheese Fritos. The "Blood of Christ" could be Red Bull and vodka. Or for the pretentious among us, you can leave it wine.

Mmmm. All you'd need is a big screen and a spring training baseball game.


I want to start paying for Blogger. I truly do. I am tired of the outtages, the failed posts, the picture upload errors, the comment issues. I want it to become a pay service. Maybe 5 bucks a month.

First, the herd will be thinned. Those who are serious about blogging will stay, those who aren't will go. It will stop most of these commercial blogs that clog the system. Second, when you pay for something, there is an expectation of a certain level of service. Right now, we can't hold Blogger accountable in any way. I want steady, reliable servers that aren't overloaded. Is that too much to ask?

In exchange, I'd like for ice cream to be free. I'd trade free Blogger for free Rocky Road any day.


Difference between a corn husker with epilepsy and a hooker with diahrrea: one shucks between fits.


Hey State of Missouri:


You are stupid. Your Department of Motor Vehicles offices do not take Mastercard/Visa. You don't indicate such until a person gets through the line and TO THE DESK. Which then forces that person to go get cash... and then stand in line a second time.

Oh. In the lobby of the DMV, there is a soda machine and candy vending machines. Those machines certainly help toward keeping Missouri ranked high on the list of states with the fattest asses, but do you think you stupid bastards could check your priorities and maybe replace those machines with one F#%KING ATM machine??

I mean, damn.


Dennis Weaver, Darren McGavin and Don Knotts. RIP. Freaky, this whole "rule of threes."

Saturday, February 25, 2006

What I Do

"The voice over business is a dark, obsequious world of drunken egos.
Cutthroat, ostentatious and aquamarine."
Dave Morris

Asked if I could describe my business, that silly fluff is the best I could come up with. Shoot, we read scripts. Nothing too mysterious, not much really learned about it... you use what nature gave you - a voice. The only thing you must acquire beyond that is interpretive skills. That's... pretty much it. There is a small measure of "magic" that enters the equation, but that part is intangible.

I hesitate to "pull back the curtain" by putting any of this in writing, (like I care?) but as this video illustrates, some of the most respected voice over artists in the world are just... regular dudes.

When I read script in the studio, I get a little animated. Arm gestures, facial expressions... it would be pretty embarrassing for you to see it. You will never, ever find a video of that anywhere.

I promise.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Pasties and beer

As a voice over artist, I excell at nothing if not reading. This may come as a surprise to my classmates from high school, (those who witnessed my education) but it's true - I've read all your prison records and divorce transcripts. (I kid because I love! Those were MY divorce transcripts)

I'm currently reading a book called Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors, by Carl Sagan and Ann Druyan. It's about the dawn of mankind and the series of evolutions, events and mishaps that lead us to where we are today. Very deep. Consequently, I have to break it up by watching episodes of Family Guy and The Colbert Report, to avoid permanent mental despair... because societally, right now it ain't all that great... and it's getting worse, at the approximate rate of decay of Carrot Top's dignity and self-respect.

Anyway, I digress. My goal is to finish that book and start re-reading DaVinci Code before the movie hits, so I can complain bitterly afterward about how the movie just didn't live up to the book. I love complaining, and why not? Reading my compaints seems to keep you entertained. You're here now, aren't you?

Then, it'll be on to my next book, Michael Lewis' "Moneyball," a story of a man's quest to dominate baseball with the smallest team budget in the major leagues. I'm hoping to use the principles within this book to build a second home in Maui with the money I had budgeted for a tool shed in my back yard. Don't tell me it can't be done, or you will instantly be labeled a dick and a liar. While I will be basking on the beach, you will be shoveling ass-deep snow and cursing my name.

So I suppose you're wondering what the point of this post is. Me freakin' too. It's a rambler, though, isn't it?

I just figured I would share my intentions for near-future literary consumption with you, my friends. Be thankful I'm including you, I could be keeping this shit to myself.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Sick, or not sick? That is the question.

I felt like shit for 36 hours, yet now I'm almost back to normal. As a cold, what kind of pitiful failure do you have to be to only affect the person for 36 measly (no, not measley) hours? Sheesh, I'd hang up my cleats and turn in my jersey if that's all I could do.

Look at me, tempting fate... calling this virus a sissy. I should point out that it takes balls to do that.

But you know what? Bring it on, you little viral bitch! Give me something more, because so far, I couldn't even take a day off!

Look, you little chicken-shit bacteria... next time, bring it! Otherwise, just stay home and watch Desperate Housewives.

Spineless, multi-celled failure.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006


I saw this and had to post it... someone found my blog using the following search term:

"Pictures of groundhogs in your butt"

Uh. Wow. My blog is 4th on the search list. What type of person is searching for butt-buried groundhogs, anyway?? This person is freakin' WACK. Look, I have nothing on my blog about colon-dwelling woodchucks, believe me. If I did, I would admit it. That's just how I roll.

Perhaps you've had visitors to your own blog via strange search terms. Feel free to share them via comment.

Monday, February 20, 2006

What IS a sonofabitch?

'Tis an answer rife with controversy, and susceptible to vastly differing interpretation. This is my blog, and I simply wouldn't feel right about not presenting my own "take," so I will now eagerly chime in.

But, instead of attempting to define sonofabitch, (here's's definition) I will provide examples through photography. Yes, a picture says a thousand words.

In the first example, the man on the right is attempting to disarm a bomb. The man on the left... well, he's a sonofabitch.

In my second example, (thanks to Kim's query regarding a certain picture from last week's Nashville trip) the innocent, decent man in the picture below is me, trying to perform a very natural bladder evacuation procedure. The roommate who snapped the picture, emailed it to numerous friends and likely posted it on the internet... well, he's a sonofabitch.

I hope I've been helpful in attempting to clarify the true meaning of the term.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

I. Am. Alive. Dammit.

For the past several days, I've been holed up in a hotel in Nashville with hundreds of friends, clients and fellow lovers of radio and Country music. Country Radio Seminar 2006 is in the history books, and although attendance levels were down a little, it seems blood alcohol levels remained at their always-lofty perch!

I've written nothing on my blog for days. Not for lack of desire, but the Renaissance hotel (in all it's 1980's-level-technology glory) doesn't have wireless internet access. And, the WIRED internet service (at approximately $11 per day) did not work. As a consequence, you'll see none of those pictures of me with the country stars... that quiet moment over brandy with Martina McBride... the hotel room poker game with Tim McGraw... the experimental plane ride with Hecky Farnsworth... (what, you haven't heard of Hecky?) Those photos are no longer timely, so I just wouldn't feel right about posting them now. Damn you, Renaissance!

I also feel the need to point out that neither Tennessee, nor Kentucky, are properly prepared for snow removal. I drove back in a small snow storm today, and the roads were attrocious. It took an extra 1.75 hours to get home, and you'd better believe I will be billing that time to those two states, who are to snow removal what White Castle is to the art of salad making.

My liver is in surprisingly good condition. I didn't drink much this year... with the possible exception of Thursday night, when I consumed Lagavulin with reckless abandon, forcing me to later eat food from a greasy little diner called the Hermitage Cafe. Now that's some good eatin', beeotches.

So anyway, I'm finally home. I know at least two friends who are happy about that.

Monday, February 13, 2006

Five Hundred Posts

This post marks my 500th entry in this little corner of the worldwide web, and it's truly been a blast. I'm not much of a writer, I do it mostly to entertain myself... but over the past year and a few months, I've accomplished what I set out to do - have fun.

As I scanned through my archives tonight, I listed a few other things I've done in these pages:

I've insulted, basked, packed, fretted, philosophized, honored, recalled, recognized, marketed, inventoried, recreated, paid tribute, nagged, ragged and finger wagged. I've atoned, I've remembered... I've bitched, moaned, complained... mourned, loved, narrated, promised, preached and praised. I've disclosed, I've listed, listed, listed, listed and listed things about me, and things I've never done. I've waxed poetic, nostalgic, philosophical, and practical.

I gave my pets a voice. (I know what you're thinking, bite me) I appraised, puzzled, pied, and opined.

I've done all of these things since November 2004, here in these pages.

As I searched through my blog to assign these links, I couldn't help but feel like maybe I've said all I have to say. After five hundred posts, I have poured out my heart, recorded my memories, made my opinions known... and now, I'm not sure how much is left.

For now, I will forge ahead. I do have more stories from my past... and with any luck, I will have many new memories to record here.

After five hundred posts, I feel so very glad I found this hobby, and that I have this little corner of the universe where I can share who, what and why I am.

What kind of sports car are you?

I'm a Porsche 911!

You have a classic style, but you're up-to-date with the latest technology. You're ambitious, competitive, and you love to win. Performance, precision, and prestige - you're one of the elite, and you know it.

Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz.

Friday, February 10, 2006

Stop me before I ponder

So the radio bug never really leaves you. I enjoyed the air-time a lot this week, it reminded me of my passion for entertainment.

I am getting ready to go out of town next week, for the annual pilgrimage to Nashville, TN for Country Radio Seminar. It's a time for contemplation, research, planning, strategy and forward thinking.

Or, as we call it in the voice over business - heavy drinking, followed by detox.

My weekend plans will be dominated by laundry, cleaning, packing, etc. Between all of it, I will take time to ponder some of life's mysteries. Such as:

How can DirecTV continue to screw up my account, yet keep me as a client?

What keeps mermaids from developing argulus, dermocystidium or fin rot?

Will it be possible, with time, to restore the allure of Madagascar... to eliminate her tainted surface waters, malaria, and bacterial and protozoal diarrhea outbreaks? And, given time and resources, can the majestic island thumb her nose at the arrogant disposition of Mozambique?

Where was Fred Flintstone's personal drive and motivation? Why did he settle for working for that prick, Mr. Slate, when he had that flying green alien, Gazoo? I could make a fortune with that little bastard. And did Fred ever wander next door to get him some Betty? (DON'T click that link!) (I warned you, didn't I?)

How do you keep the music playing? How do you make it last? How do keep the song from fading too fast?

Can I possibly get more shit in my junk drawer?

When will people learn that sandals 'n socks are the sign of a confident, mature and well-rounded man?

Sandra Oh: Hot or not?

These ponderables should keep my brain occupied for a while, even as it anticipates next week's bludgeonry at the hands of it's arch nemesis, Glenlivet.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Bad Radio! BAD!

For most of my life, I've been known as a radio guy. Rest assured, the only kind of radio I know how to do is the bad kind, but for some reason, my skills kept me in the business for over 22 years. I was an on-air personality, or (he says with righteous indignation) "D-J." I always hated that title, I've never been a disc jockey. Jockeys ride horses. Records were never called discs, until CDs were invented.

I've done morning shows, mid-day, afternoons, night shows, overnights, weekends... from city to city. I was never really too picky about where I worked, as long as it was radio. I loved the music (still do) and really enjoyed entertaining people. Sorry, let me put that in quotations, "entertaining" people. Some didn't find it very entertaining. Screw those people!

Occasionally, the bug bites and I feel like doing it again. Today and tomorrow, I've been asked to fill in for the afternoon drive show on 93.7 The Bull in St. Louis, MO. Feel free to tune in between 2 pm and 7 pm central. The station streams it's signal at Click "Listen Live."

If you hear a guy named Dave Louis, that's me. I change my name on-air to protect the innocent. It has nothing to do with the IRS, child support enforcement or witness protection program... as far as YOU know.

Don't expect much, it's been a while.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Scantily clad, nubile nymphs

The title of this blog entry is a cheap attempt to boost hits through Google searches. If you're a blogger, I know you understand. It's sort of like running promos all through the Superbowl, in an effort to get people to watch the other shitty programming ABC offers.


I won the chili contest! I should clarify. I won one of the categories... there were three: Best Overall, Spiciest, and Most Likely To Make You Fat. I took Spiciest with great ease, although considering my chili contained a pound each of bacon, sausage, ground chuck, sliced strip steak and ground turkey, I SHOULD have won Fattest as well. Ironically, the guy who won Fattest made his chili with deer meat, which is considerably leaner than beef.

Oh well, there's always next year!


I am preparing for a week of liver damage, called Country Radio Seminar, which takes place next week in Nashville, TN. There will be artists, radio people, managers, record industry executives, and various other categories of people, all in town primarily to consume massive amounts of alcoholic beverages.

I shall participate with vigor and resolve. I shall consume scotch with reckless abandon. I'm certain I will drunk-dial friends... so if your number is programmed into my cell phone, I apologize in advance.

No, truly, I don't apologize. Just leave your phone on vibrate next week.


Them brainy Alabama people are at it again. Burning churches... the racist zealot's Disney World.

Fires at four more Alabama churches

Deliverance! Because of a few rotten people, the deep south can be a scary place to live and visit. Until those individuals get with the program, that region continues to be the only area New Jersey can make fun of!


What?? Violence and murder on the set of a rap video taping? That's really hard to believe. I thought that Busta Rhymes was a real nice guy.

Stupid bastards. I think rap & hip hop artists with track records of violence (of any kind) should be rounded up, placed in a big prison, and be forced to vigorously sodomize each other until they can't sit down. Nothing like a good, brisk "in-through-the-out-door" to get your mind right.

Sunday, February 05, 2006

Round Two

Quitting's for sissies.

If there's any deep truth to chili making, it's that no two batches are the same. Even using the same recipe, you tweak. Non-tweaking is for sissies.

Another deep truth is, you always use alcohol in your chili. I'm not sure if it makes much difference, but every time I add some, I giggle like a school girl. You get a feeling akin to mischief when putting 2 shots of Quervo into a pot of chili. (oh, did I leak a valuable secret?)

Yes, we burned the chili yesterday. Yes, we had a good excuse... it was necessary to go out for beer and cigars.

Yes, we got back on the horse. Chili making is not for the faint of heart.

Saturday, February 04, 2006

If I told you the recipe, I'd have to kill you

The superbowl is nothing without chili. (right Em?) So I'm minding my own business, cooking this chili today at my brother's place in Jefferson City. (isn't that how all good stories begin?)

We decided, after combining all the secret, special ingredients and the hours of preparation, the tender loving care... that we'd go have a beer and cigar. Upon our return, the house was filled with smoke and the chili was. Um. Dead. We had somehow left the burner on 6.

Forty dollars in ingredients. All that precious time spent chopping, dicing, spicing. Perfection. Up in smoke.

After having a mini fit about wasting food, (I'm talking steak, sausage... er, I can't tell you any more) we decided to bake a pizza for lunch. 10 minutes later, the house was again filling with smoke.

What the HELL was going on here? Is it me? Is it the stove? Is it KARMA?

So tomorrow morning I will go back to the store, spend another forty f*%king dollars and start again.

It will be akin to repainting the Mona Lisa.

Friday, February 03, 2006

This made me laugh*

The internet is such a huge buffer!

Although I don't lie, I am careful to pick only the best pictures to post on my blog. That's a form of lying, I guess. I'm not very photogenic and frankly, a pretty ordinary-looking guy... so it's important that I put my best foot forward!

And did I mention, I race speed boats?

*thanks to Gene "Horsetail Snake" (one of my favorite people in the world) for the picture.

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Things That Are Difficult To Say When Drunk

1. Innovative
2. Preliminary
3. Proliferation
4. Cinnamon


1. Specificity
2. British Constitution
3. Passive-aggressive disorder


1. Thanks, but I don't want to have sex.
2. Nope, no more beer for me.
3. Sorry, but you're not really my type.
4. Good evening, officer. Isn't it lovely out tonight?
5. Oh, I couldn't. No one wants to hear me sing.

Thanks to Lori

It's Woodchuck Day!!!

Yes. Groundhogs and woodchucks are the same thing. Which leads to the question, how much ground would a groundhog hog if a groundhog could hog ground?

According to, there are eight ways to kill a groundhog:

8 - High precision sniper rifle.

7 - Feed piquant mustard to his shadow.

6 - 2 cups soy sauce, 1 tablespoon of sugar, and a grenade.

5 - Make him try to solve a Rubiks Cube. (I've done this, the groundhog explodes)

4 - Make a bet with him that he can't drink two gallons of milk in five minutes. (groundhogs are suckers for wagering)

3 - 1994 White Ford Bronco. (self explanatory)

2 - Make him watch Groundhog Day starring Bill Murray over and over again. (again, he explodes)

1 - Hire this guy.

Actual woodchuck


Charles "Chuck" Ferndock

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Random thoughts from a whack mind

I ponder, therefore I am.

  • Why do Stars, Cinemax, Showtime, etc. feel the need to break into the movie right when the credits start to roll with loud promos and commercials? They shrink the credits to the corner of the screen and cut the music. Yeah, credits and closing music are part of the movie, assholes... let's try doing this differently.
  • Why are there no dogs named Bill? I've met a lot of canines, none named William or any derivative. This must change. Also Wally... there are no dogs named Wally.
  • Why is it that even though we love our jobs, we'd still prefer not to be doing them? A friend and I were discussing the phenomenon recently - both of us claiming we loved our jobs, yet at the same time, wishing we had tomorrow off. What gives?
  • Could Family Guy possibly get any funnier? Brian the dog makes me giggle until the bed shakes. (I TiVo FG and watch as I fall asleep) Brian is another under-used dog name.
  • How is it that, "when this old world starts getting me down and people are just too much for me to face," being "up on the roof" could make everything better? What is this concept based on, altitude? Is there something calming about the smell of tar and shingles? Bird shit projects serenity, maybe?
  • Don't click this link. (shit, man, I warned you... what do you expect?)
  • During this, the week of groundhog day, I am going out on a limb and predicting that we will have another 6 weeks of 42-day periods.
  • What the HELL were Lincoln Chase and Shirley Elliston smoking when they wrote The Name Game? "Dave-Dave-bo-bave, banana fana fo fave?" What the %^*#??
  • This is what a Honda feels like. (great commercial, link courtesy of Steve)

Peace, out.