I Wrote A New Jingle For The Greg And Dan Radio Show! Here it is:

Things have been working out really good for me lately, so I'm wondering when the DISASTER is gonna hit me, as it always does! See how paranoid I am? 

Greg and Dan are planning on using the second jingle I wrote for their radio show (the other one is their Wednesday Funsday jingle), the great Marty Wombacher moved back to Peoria, (my friend, and the funniest writer I know), the song I sang at the Christmas program at Christ Bible Church went well, and the numbness in my feet is getting much better! ( LOL!)

Christmas is only a few days away, and God has blessed us with a warm home, food, a car , Benji, The Wonder Dog, and YouTube!

However, how long is all this good stuff gonna last, hmmmmm? 

I'm worried!

MARTY WOMBACHER 

Marty Wombacher is the funniest guy I know! 

He wrote two books that were side splittingly, funny! 

"The Boy Who Would Be A Firetruck" and "99 Beers Off The Wall."

He is originally from Peoria, but moved to New York City for 19 years, and now is back here! 

Hallelujah! 

He has a new blog at "Meanwhile, Back In Peoria.com.

http://www.trippingwithmarty.com/almost-live-from-new-york-city/2012/12/10/meanwhile-back-in-peoria.html
Welcome back Marty!
You are the best!

The Spirit Of Christmas Past

The wonder and magic of the Christmas season is something that was real to most of us in our childhood. 

We delighted in Christmas morning, when it seemed as if the Christmas tree was glowing with an illumination ten times brighter than the colored lights could have produced. 

The Christmas story of Mary and Joseph was so vivid in our little imaginations that we could feel what they went through in traveling to Bethlehem, being turned away at the motel, and having to sleep in a barn. 

We felt the fear and awe that the shepards felt when the super bright Angels appeard to them in multitudes and sang really loud, and the wise men brought Jesus gifts , and we knew what gold was, but not the other two things. 

What is my point? 

Well, when you start getting real old, like me, all those childlike feelings start coming back to you, and that's really cool!!!

I Am So Weird And Insecure!

If I was ever blessed with fortune and fame, and had a billion fans who adored me, and I gave a concert with 75,000 of my cheering fans in attendance, and afterwards, just one person came up to me with mild criticism of my performance, I would be depressed for days! 

THAT is how insecure I am!!

Why do I tell you this?

I had 1 thumbs down on my O Holy Night video and I feel heartbroken! 

That is really weird! 

I have no idea who the person is, if he/she is tone deaf, or even watched the whole thing, but I still get upset! 

I wish I was more confident in myself. 

 Want To Feel Happy?...Well, Do Ya, Punk?

My goal today is to make you happy, so I'm going to post 2 videos on my blog that will surely put a big ole smile on your face!

They will take your mind off the "Fiscal Cliff", and everything!

Don't think of me inviting you to watch the videos, think of Clint Eastwood suggesting you watch them, with the most powerful handgun in the world pointing at your whimpering head!

So, do you want to feel happy? Well, do ya, punk?

I thought so.

Christmas Fun For Everyone?

Is Christmas fun for everyone? 

It seems like there are too many people who stress themselves out by taking the season way too seriously!

The perfect tree, the best light display, the coolest gifts, the most popular Christmas party, and by the time Christmas comes they are worn out, depressed, disgusted, and disgruntled!

I would rather be happy and have a "Charlie Brown" tree, like I have, than be crabby with a magnificently perfect "show tree!"

Now, I understand that there are some folks who can do the flawless Christmas with no stress or worries. That's cool.

However, if we are so wrapped up in creating the BEST Christmas that it makes us cry, is it worth it!

Joy, laughter, fun, songs, telling stories, telling jokes, hugging grandchildren...doesn't cost a thing, and I believe, is the BEST part of Christmas!

One of the saddest things I can think of are the people on "Black Friday" who, with shameless greed, fight and claw their way into the store for a stupid gift for a spoiled kid!

Maybe that's their way of having fun, but "black" is a good description of the dark, unloving attitude they display on that day.

How about buying or even MAKING something meaningful as a gift, that does not include virtual manslaughter!

I know I'm old fashioned, and living in my memories of Christmas in the old days when family and friends would just drop in unannounced, and that was perfectly okay, the Christmas season didn't start until AFTER Thanksgiving, and the Christmas T.V. specials were really SPECIAL, by airing very close to Christmas day!

Yes, I'm an old "fuddy duddy," just blowing off some steam, and probably no one will ever read this, but I feel happy now! HA!!

Merry Christmas EVERYONE and have FUN!!!!

Classic Christmas T.V. For Baby Boomers!

We all know that the greatest Christmas shows were the ones from our childhood! 

For "baby boomers" it was Suzy Snowflake...Hardrock, Coco, and Joe...and The Night Before Christmas. 

If you still have that childlike Christmas spirit that you had back in the 50's you will love these featured clips! 

If you've turned into the evil Grinch...heaven help you!

Suzy Snowflake (Stop motion animation)

Twas the Night Before Christmas (puppetoon)

Hardrock, Coco, and Joe (Stop motion animation)

The Night Before Christmas (Live Action and Animation)

THE CHRISTMAS FEELING 

Do you get that Christmas feeling in your belly at this time of the year? I do not feel it in my head, or even in my heart, it is in my belly! 

A warm, soothing, feeling, full of the nostalgia of every Christmas we have ever experienced. 

The lights and decorations have an important role in bringing it on, however, it's the music that does it for me the most.

It is the same feeling I had as a child when my pretty teacher would come over to my desk, put her pretty hand on my shoulder, and help me with a problem. 

I know there is really no connection here, but it's the same "belly" thing. 

When I am driving at night and going past all the beauteous colored lights and listening to "Hark hear the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say, throw cares away...", I have that "belly" feeling so strong it's better than getting high on some illegal drug! 

It is magnificent!

Am I the only one that feels that feeling, or are you nuts too?

I REALLY DON'T UNDERSTAND

My virgin of Healing Rain is way more powerful and real than M.W. Smith's virgin, in my own, unbiased, humble opinion.

You are probably wondering why I'm talking about virgins, huh?

Well, I used to be one, and so did you, if you can remember that far back.

Anyway, uh, where was I, oh, yeah, motorcycles! 

I think everyone who rides a motorcycle has a death wish! Come on, no seat belts, no padded dash, no air bags, no protective frame around you, no heat in the winter, no air conditioning in the summer, no nuthin' honey!!

Well, that's all I have tom for, 'cause I have to go to church!

Dig this song:

Healing Rain by Michael W. Smith (COVER)

I really don't know if I'm a good singer anymore.  I can only go by what people tell me.

At church they say they like my singing, but they love me there.

I get a lot of nice comments from YouTubers on my songs and singing, however, they want to receive nice comments from me about THEIR music.

My closest friends and family members are on Facebook, and I hardly ever get a like or comment on my music anymore.

Frankly, I don't get much of a response on anything I post.

Am I getting so old and senile I don't realize I'm over the hill?

I have seen that happen with a lot of bands and singers.

No one has the guts to tell them they're no good anymore, and they keep embarrassing themselves over and over again.

Is that how you feel about me? 

It would be nice to know.

Danny

Just one more thing before we leave this fairyland of
snow and holly.
(for a good time call Holly", 555-1222).
I had the weirdest dream when I was about 13 years old.
It was a hot August night. Not a soul was in sight. They
all went out for "dreamsicles”) – get it, dreamsicles.
I was, uncharacteristically watching television.
Anyway, I think it was a dream.
I mean, it had to be because it was so strange!
Yeah, sure it was. I should know a dream from reality.
Well, as I was trying to explain, (before I was rudely
interrupted by myself.)
The television started getting a little snowy. Then the
snowy screen got more snowy.
All of a sudden, dad’s image popped up through the
snow. Astonishingly, he was wearing a Santa suit! (Do you see
why this had to be a dream?)
Dad said, "I’m talking to you by way of the television
because it's the purest form of communication and you
always have your nose up against the screen, anyway."

"Here's the 'skinny". I am the one and only ,true-blue,
often imitated, never duplicated, jolly old St. Nick.
Me- Who?
Dad- “I'm Santa!” “The reason I act like I hate
Christmas is to hide my true identity.” “ Throw everyone off
my trail, slip 'em a "red herring", so to speak.”
Me- a red what?
Dad - Never mind.
Me -But your Christmas anger
seems so real!
Dad - Well, to be honest, sometimes it is. The stress
can be enormous when you stop and consider PETA on my
butt for reindeer abuse, F.B.I. investigations, Delta Force
raids.
Yeah, I know stress like I know the bottom of a pool
table, (echo), pool table, (more echo), poool taaable, (a heck
of alot of echo).
Dad’s image started getting wavy, wavier, more wavier,
fading, fading out, out, bye bye.
Now, at this point, I thought everything I had just
experienced was real. But, it had to be a dream! Right?
Or,maybe not! Oh, I don't know.

I perceived a Class 5, no, a Class 7, Glirkazoid warship in
the X-mas sky.
I smiled when I discerned a string of blinking Christmas
lights wrapped around the qwaatz tower.
The multi-colored lights illuminated a Rudolf the
Reindeer stuffed animal, hanging from the cull shield.
(I will do my best to provide you with a diagram of a
Glirkazoid spaceship, so you can better visualize these technical
references.)
The Glirkazoids love Christmas because they actually
met Jesus and believe he is,quote: "The genesis and eternal
fountain of all knowledge, wisdom and compassion.”
Another reason they love Christmas is because they love candy canes. (unfortunately, for some unknown reason, candy canes get them high.)
After just a couple of licks they all get into their
spaceships and fly over Arizona in triangular formations.
Go figure. (I think it's the equivalent of mooning someone
from your car).

Let me share something that totally amazed me.
My dad was a good man. Really!
However, Christmas made him angry, upset, frustrated,
foul mouthed, and belligerent.
O.K., now, here is what amazed me.
When dad visited his mother around Christmas, he was a
perfect angel.
No cursing, no smoking, no drinking., Why, he was even in
a good mood! (at least, he pretended to be).
How did he turn it on and off like that? He never
slipped up, either!
Listen to how dad sounded when he stubbed his toe at
home - "G.D. son-of-a-bleep and bleepers!)
Now listen: to how he sounded if he stubbed his toe at
his mommies house, - Oh, shucks, Excuse me for such harsh
language.
Dad, at home- Hey, you! Bring me my cigarettes and a
beer and then pull my finger.
Dad, at his mommies place - Oh, how I deplore those
wicked, wicked souls who partake of "demon" beer and
cancer sticks, mommie dearest. (the Academy award goes to
Dad for the best performance in a Christmas setting.)

Christmas was fast approaching and we knew dad's
brothers would be coming to visit. Silas and Elzie and
families.
Dad frequently mocked their "holier than thou"
attitude. (whether they had one or not).
Sooooo, we decided to give dad an early Christmas
present.
Nancy, Dee-Dee and me wrote a song that we were sure
dad would love.
Silas and Elzie dropped in right before Christmas and
brought their families along.
After everyone got "hunkered down" (a little Ozarkian
verbal acrobatics for ya) we asked dad if we could sing a
song.
"Is it a Christmas song,”he asked, in a mildly
threatening way.
“Oh, no!” Nancy explained. " It's a song we wrote about
Silas and Elzie.”
Well, everyone agreed that this was appropriate and
timely, so dad gave us his personal o.k.
Soooooooo, we started singing (to the tune of the Ballad of
Jed Clampett).

Uncle Si and Uncle Elzie,
always go to church,
but guess which people,
are the worst,
We may not go to church,
or Sunday school,
but we know the "golden rule".
Hallelujah, brothers,
Hallelujah!
Save you sinners, brothers,
Save you sinners!
On the hallelujah part we started dancing, jumping up
and down, waving our arms in the air and rolling our eyes
back, like typical "holy rollers".
Well, remember how I said that we thought dad would
like the song?
Do you remember the movie, "Billy Jack"? The part
where the "rednecks” poured flour on the little girl's head
and Billy Jack went berserk?
My dad got that mad!( In fact, nobody thought the song
was funny except mom who ran to the bathroom and laughed
her "you know what" off.)
Fortunately, dad got into the eggnog (spiked with Jack
Daniels) when the 'bible thumpers" left, and forgot the

whole incident.

We always got a real Christmas tree. It wasn't really
Christmas without a real evergreen tree like Jesus had.
It was purchased around Dec. 1 every year. (dad would
say he stole it off the lot). It was taken down on New
Years day.
Needless to say, when we took it outside and put a
match to the sucker, it simply exploded like raw gasoline.
I looked forward to that each year.
It is nothing short of a miracle that we didn't have a
major fire in our home with mom and dad smoking their Pall
Malls, candles, and me, loving the whole concept of beautiful
fire.

The heartwarming Christmas carols we used to sing
were the highlight of the festivities.
Some of my favorites were, "We three kings of are we
in tar?” 
Also, "see the snow bunch, hear the kids crunch", and “Deck the house with kitty vomit". 
The mandatory,” 0 Tannenbomb.”
Mom loved to dress us in lederhosen when we
sang that song.
"Grandma got run over by a reindeer" was a must, and
we would traditionally end the concert by barking out "Doggy
Jingle Bells.”
The melodious and serendipitous harmonies coming
from our uvulated, virgin throats, produced a sweet angelic
sound that touched the hearts of people standing around,
as well as any wild beasts that may have been lurking
nearby.
Oh, my yes! These were the wonderful, traditional,
ancient and contemporary Christmas songs so fondly
adored by the Glirkazoids. (they said, “Doggy Jingle
Bells”can blow your mind after snorting crushed candy
cane, TOTALLY!)
My dad, of course, despised every "golden" note
coming from our precious wittle mouths. (I don’t know why
you keep saying my dad was bad! He was just Christmasly
challenged.)

More Christmas Stuff From "Chickens' Butts And Coconuts.

I perceived a Class 5, no, a Class 7, Glirkazoid warship in

the X-mas sky.

I smiled when I discerned a string of blinking Christmas

lights wrapped around the qwaatz tower.

The multi-colored lights illuminated a Rudolf the

Reindeer stuffed animal, hanging from the "cull shield".

(I will do my best to provide you with a diagram of a

Glirkazoid spaceship, so you can better visualize these technical

references.)

The Glirkazoids love Christmas because they actually met Jesus and believe he is, quote: "The genesis and eternal

fountain of all knowledge, wisdom and compassion.”

Christmas Hollerdays,,,from my book Chickens'Butts and Coconuts

I can't remember mom ever buying a decoration for the tree. They were all heirlooms or something made by the kids in school.

(I made the world's ugliest ornament by putting paper

mache on a potato, painting it white, and dabbing red spots

on it. ( My mom cherished it.)

The ornaments were old, faded and chipped. They

ranged from big round ones, the size of a grapefruit, `to

very small, like a cherry. Then, there were the long, slender

ones-that, I think, were supposed to look like the Christmas

star. They had real fragile centers that would disintegrate

at the slightest touch. (whoops, there goes another one,

Sorry!)

We had some paper chains, popcorn strings, tinsel, and a

well worn silver star on top.

We believed with all our heart, that we had the most

beautiful tree in town.

When brother Dick got married and moved out, he got

an aluminum tree that had a color wheel that reflected

three different colors in succession.

We viewed it as a sacrilege,

A real Christmas required a real Christmas tree!

Christmas Eve. St. Louis. Circa 1960.

Outside the frosted kitchen window (by the way, the

frost looked like little white pine trees or tiny little

ferns that God painted around the edges of the pane of

glass).

I saw the misty hoar frost upon the lawn (not to be confused

with "hooker" frost), and suddenly, huge snowflakes

(about the size of pit-bull puppies), started falling down, oh,

so gently.

Down, down, down, then up a little and down again and; a

little to the left, then right a wee bit, rocking to and fro in

the sacred Christmas wind that once cooled the manger

where Jesus slept so adorably.

Pure, white, pristine, unadulterated snow. (about three

feet deep, according to the bicycle handlebars).

The porch light revealed hidden "diamonds" in the

frozen white "angel's dandruff", while a bunny had to hop

way up and down, way up and down, to transmigrate himself

(or herself) through the deep cold pile of a billion unique and

completely individual, snowflakes.

CHAPTER 10
Christmas - “Holler" days
Harken to the joyous sounds, sights and smells of the
Christmas of yesteryear. Yuletide carols, sleigh bells
tinkling profusely in the crisp, crystalline air that crackles
ever so gently on your lips and eyelashes.
"Doggy Jingle Bells" playing on a distant unseen radio.
The snapping and popping of an old Ozark stone
fireplace as hickory logs send their sweet Christmas
perfume through the halls and doorways of an antique log
cabin home filled with everlasting Christmas spirit.
This, my good and faithful friends, was not what Christmas
was like in my childhood.
My dad hated Chris----------------------

So, here I am in the middle of the living room floor.
Minding my own business. (I think, if I remember correctly,
I was writing thank-you notes to all my family members. Just
because I wanted to. 

Example: Dear Mama, thanks for being
you.) 

Unbeknownst to me, my brothers had put hideous faces
on two coconuts Mom had bought at the A&P. 

They used Mom’s eyebrow pencil. 

(Mom’s joke used to be, “someone’s in
the bathroom, so I’m going to the A and P”. 

When you make jokes like that, urine trouble.)

All of a sudden, the lights went out except for the
ghostly light coming from the Winky Dink show. 

I began to hear drums. As if someone was beating on a Quaker Oats box.

Those drums, those dang drums still beat in my head!
Then I heard a long low ssssssssss. A few seconds later
I heard shhhhhhhhhh. Now, a little louder, it became
shruuuuuuuunk. Finally, all my deepest fears rose to the top
when I heard shruuuuuunken heads! 

All of a sudden, my two
brothers ran in from the kitchen, each with a shrunken head.
(Psycho music again.) What’s happening? Is this a nightmare?
Did my brothers chop off people’s heads? 

They say I was
found 14 blocks away at the garbage dump, talking to rats
and liking it.

CHICKENS' BUTTS

                      AND COCONUTS

by Danny Maness

So, anyway, Mom said, (very slowly) “Come Danny, hold

out your hand.” Expecting the nicest surprise ever, I did

what I was told. 

Mom said, (very slowly and eerily) “Close

your eyes.” I did so in my youthful innocence. I felt her put

something in my hand. A kitty? A puppy? 

In a sweet, singsong way, Mom said, “Open your eyes.” I opened my eyes.

I did not find the wonderful, beautiful surprise my childish

heart yearned for so eagerly. Instead, I saw in my tiny,

virgin palm, an ugly, awful, slime covered, raw chicken’s butt!

(Psycho music again). I am told I was found in an alley ten

blocks away muttering something about the Little Red Hen,

Donner Pass and proctology. (Funny thing, my Mom pulled

that chicken’s butt thing on me about two dozen times after

that, and I started to enjoy it. Kind of like the way we

enjoyed terrifying movies as kids. Did you ever want to turn

off a horror flick on T.V. when you were a tot, but were

afraid to get close to the set? I know, I know. We didn’t

have a remote in those days. Thanks for reminding me of my

advanced years.)