Uh oh. I'm in for it now. Last time I wrote a headline that really pissed readers off was this one: Our Moderately Medicated Mutt (or Pest In Show). It was an article about our dog Tucker, and those who read the entire article learned that I thought he was the "best goddamn dog I've ever had, or known of." Animal lovers who didn't read the article all the way through wrote me hate mail for writing such things as: 'No more dog hair in the corners! No more pestering to go out every five minutes!' I’d exclaim, knowing damn well how foolish I look, grandstanding in my boxer briefs with much of the elastic waistband chewed out." Ah well. I didn't support Trump. I wonder if that's a big surprise
I'm a musician. Not a particularly 'cool' one, like those dudes who get up at the crack of noon and embrace the holy trinity of rock stardom: sex, drugs and rock & roll. I'm up at 4:30 am. I hustle. I move fast. I like to make a legitimate buck. By rock and roll standards, I am everything that is uncool. Indulge me while I toot my own horn for a bit. I've just finished three albums in the last year; one with Jeff Daniels, the acclaimed actor/singer/songwriter, along with two albums with my band, The Verve Pipe. I finished a book this week as well. Writing, not reading, thank you. I play house concerts, about 75 per year on average, while also doing rock shows with the band. The Verve Pipe do
