I’ve been thinking about titles lately. No, not like the Earl of Sandwich or Sir Loin of Beef. I was listening to a friend’s new R & B album and was wondering how they come up with titles for instrumentals. I imagine folks must get pretty proprietary about their titles. After all the work and creative genius that goes into a great jazz song, would it have been as great if Duke Ellington had called it “Take the #47 Bus?”

Novel writers must agonize over titles. I’ve never written anything longer than a couple of pages, but the idea of choosing a word or a phrase to optimize your 150,000 word magnum opus seems really intimidating to me. Sometimes they really hit the mark-”Grapes of Wrath,” sometimes not so much-”Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” and sometimes it just doesn’t matter-”Peer Gynt.” Songwriters and short story writers have to come up with a title every week or month or so as the create new pieces, but they often have the benefit of simply lifting a line out of their song or story.

But us bloggers, man…now there’s some pressure. I have to come up with 5-7 titles per week that are vaguely informative and occasionally entertaining. So what is the last bastion of the overburdened author? That’s right, the pun. Paronomasia has the potential to attract derision like no other literary device, yet I can’t avoid it. Drawing from a proud literary history ranging from Shakespeare to Ogden Nash, the ability to turn a homonym into a synonym is harder than most people think.

Samuel Johnson called the pun “the lowest form of humour.”

I got your Samuel Johnson, right here.

Oscar Wilde would be so proud.

I don’t know who this German dude, Max is, but the sumbitch sure is tall.

Here are the Tennessee Titans free agents for 2010:

Pos Player Name FA Status Previous Team Current Team
RB LenDale White UFA Tennessee Titans Free Agent
TE Alge Crumpler UFA Tennessee Titans Free Agent
TE Bo Scaife UFA Tennessee Titans Free Agent
OG Benji Olson UFA Tennessee Titans Free Agent
OT Michael Roos UFA Tennessee Titans Free Agent
C Eugene Amano UFA Tennessee Titans Free Agent
C Kevin Mawae UFA Tennessee Titans Free Agent
DL Tony Brown UFA Tennessee Titans Free Agent
DL Kyle Vanden Bosch UFA Tennessee Titans Free Agent
LB Ken Amato UFA Tennessee Titans Free Agent
LB Keith Bulluck UFA Tennessee Titans Free Agent
LB Stephen Tulloch UFA Tennessee Titans Free Agent
CB Nick Harper UFA Tennessee Titans Free Agent
FS Vincent Fuller UFA Tennessee Titans Free Agent

I say we cut every single one of them (except Roos) during the bye week and replace them by signing players off every practice squad in the division. We’ll decimate our competition’s future while at the same time starting to plan for ours. Plus we’ll save a crapload of money so maybe they could cut beer prices to encourage us loyal fans to keep coming to ball games.

Hey, a guy can dream can’t he?

To steal and bastardize a comment by Alice in Chains bassist Mike Inez, we’re only one injury away from being a .500 team. Unfortunately that injury would have to be a debilitating stroke to Bud Adams.

She may get better mileage, but I’ve got more trunk space.

I’m pretty sure that texting while driving a cooler with an open container has to be against the law.

Because I needed some place to post my entry that won the “Formal Champion” category of the Hot Tomato Haiku Contest at the East Nashville Tomato Art Festival, I figured I’d pull the old Dry Spot out of mothballs so I could show the color and the structure. It wouldn’t make much sense otherwise.

For

Orbs

Which

D a n g l e

C  a  r  m  i  n  e,

R  u  b  i  c  u  n  d,

C  r  i  m  s  o  n

D  i  n  e r  s

T h a n k

G a i a

I’ll go back in my cave now.

I realized that I have inadvertently done a brilliant thing to improve my productivity here in the office.

(“You mean like not blogging in two weeks?”)

No! Screw you, inner monologue.  He can get so self-righteous sometimes.

I have allowed boxes of printed samples and calendars to fill all the chairs and every flat surface in my glorified cubicle.  (I have a door and a window, but it just leads into another cubicle.)  Thanks to the lack of horizontal space, nobody can sit down in my office but me.  Conversations about nothing have been reduced by almost 100% and my quiet work time has increased accordingly.  Of course, SEC football does start next week…

Knuck got me picking through the ole digital vault for pictures from circa 1986.

Then                      Now

Certainly less hair, and what is left is much grayer, but damned if I don’t look like myself.

It’s not too late to move my crap from my basement to your basement!

Go here for details.

View of my parking lot:

Big-ass gas-guzzling Chevy Z71 pick `em up truck with a trailer hitch

Big-ass gas-guzzling Chevy Z71 pick `em up truck with a trailer hitch

Big-ass gas-guzzling Chevy Z71 pick `em up truck with a trailer hitch

Camry Hybrid with a bicycle on the back

All together now, “One of these things is not like the other.”

You know you want it!

It’s some of my better sell copy. I really should be in marketing. Oh wait, I am…

If you live in Nashville or are willing to drive here in a Uhaul sometime in the next week, it would behoove you to go here.

As you were.  Carry on.

I’ll be absent from the information stuporhighway for the next fortnight.

Until I get back, y’all play nice with each other and let’s maintain that lead, Cubbies!

Arrivederci, adio and hoşça kalın.

If you think you’ve had the worst day ever and are just about as low as you can be, go rent “La Vie en Rose.”

Not only will you sit through 2+ hours of the story of somebody’s life that is much more tragic than yours, it’ll surprisingly make your day just a little bit worse.

The music was cool, though.

When I ride my bike by myself on country roads, I’ve started using my iPod Shuffle at low volume to keep myself motivated and entertained.  My rear view mirror protects me from overtaking traffic and usually I can see a cow crossing the road from a mile away in the hinterlands.

But when I ride from home through downtown up Hermitage Avenue and the hooker/day laborer/hourly hotel/spooky cemetary/quonset hut tavern route that is my daily commute, no headphones for me.  I need 100% attention on the road and my surroundings to have a chance to arrive intact.

Unfortunately, that means whatever silly-ass song that gets in my head will stay there for my 35 minute ride, often hummed and whistled in single stanza segments on both the inhale and exhale as I climb hills.  Some recent brain-worms that have haunted me:

“Hot dogs.  Armour hot dogs.What kind of kids eat Armour hot dogs?
Tough kids, sissy kids, kids who climb on rocks.
Tall kids, short kids, even kids with chickepox
Love hot dogs… Armour hot dogs…
The dogs-kids-love-to-bite!”

“Mid-south bizness furniture.  Mid-south bizness furniture. Mid-south bizness furniture.” (repeat x 1000.  I’m not kidding.  That’s all there is to the damn song)

“It’s the New Zoo Revue.  Coming right at you.  With three delightful animals. They have fun with what they do.  They learn from their friend Doug.  (Their friend Doug!)  And his “helper” (quotes mine) Emmy Jo.  (Emmy Jo!) With Charlie! Freddy! Henrietta! They have fun learning what they don’t know.”

“867-5309. 867-530 ni-ee-yine.”

On the rare occasion, I can force these brainworms from my head by singing a verse of “Mustang Sally,” but I doubt the performance is too convincing to the “thirsty-two ouncer lunchbox special” set sitting on the bus stop bench considering I’m wearing skintight spandex pants with a padded crotch pad and a clown-suit jersey with Italian written all over it.

The worst is when I happen to catch a snippet of a commercial just as I go out the door in the morning.   I have a real fear that someday I will find myself in an emergency situation that is not necessarily life-threatening and I’ll end up on hold after dialing 1 (800) 588-2300.