Funny Graffiti.

The picture is awful, so I'll help you out.

Someone defaced a bathroom stall with "Toy Story 2 was OK" and a little smiley face next to it. Funny to see this next to some repulsive phrase about male on male anal sex. I guess movie reviews can be taboo too in Ogallala, NE.

G'Damn Sity Slickers.

Like'n the great cuntrymusic star (Luke Dodge) says, I's lucky nough to be frum a little slice of heaven called South Dakota. I think me and Luke could make some damn fine kickin' kountry if we got together and did a little thinkin' bout songs and stuffs. I grew up just like every little kid out in the country, doin chores, ropin' steers, lyin' on the riverbank, painting our names on tha watertank, miscountin all the beer you drank. I played a little baseball, helped out on Grandpa's farm.

All that's great, but I think the song already got wrote. I'm'n thinkin that Luke and I need to focus on my favorite activity, shootin' shit. Luke and I'll get to that ventually, right now I need to talk about a little pet Peav of mine. Every year I pack my things and head east for the Christmas season, I usually get to go out and shoot shit at least a few times while I'm home, Pheasants are my most favorite. Every year before I leave, someone asks me to "catch them a bird or two," or when I get back, someone says "did you catch any birds while you were home?" You know what I said? I says to the guy, I says, "You gotta be a goddamn moron to ask me a question like that with a straight face." Or I says, "You must be the dummest sumofabitch I ever seen to think I catch birds, don't ever talk to me again."

You folks really think we look like this when we head out to bring home supper? Or do you think we catch'em like this?
Hey look he caught a trophy, look at the tail feather, he'll look good flyin on the wall above the davenport in the guest room.
This dumb Pheasant thought he could sneak out the end of the field.
Well, enough about that, I'm gonna go catch me a big one.

The Next Big Thing (Me)

Through what I originally believed was an accident, I woke this morning to a local radio station that plays all of today’s hottest country hits. I say that I originally thought it was an accident because it may have actually been something more—possibly a greater power at work.

As I laid in bed, not quite ready to face a Saturday filled with crappy-ass movies on TBS (“Richie Rich” in case you’re wondering) and unfulfilling meals consisting of spicy bean dip and Fritos Scoops ®, I listened to song after mediocre song. The one consistent factor from artist to artist was that they all had names that were perfect for country music.

I hypothesize that being a successful male country musician is 8% talent, 12% American pride, and 80% having a great name. So why not me? I spent much of the day developing a sophisticated mathematical formula to uncover the perfect name. I won’t disclose the actual formula (NASA may be interested) but I think we’ll all agree that it works.



My ticket to stardom is a name: Luke Dodge.

It’s the perfect name for a male country musician. Fans of the genre wouldn’t love me more if my name was Tracy Bowhunter, Cody Nascar, or Casey Bassboat.

I will become a huge star despite that fact that 1) I have limited (if any) musical talent and 2) listening my songs will be less appealing than drinking that vase of rotten vegetable juice Bip used to “cleanse” himself.

First I’ll need a band. I will nab the boys who play back-up for Kenny Cordova and we’ll become Luke Dodge & Ye Olde Honky-Tonk Rebels. We’ll play gigs in northern Colorado (Rafferty’s mostly) until discovered by a slightly overweight man wearing teal sweatpants who has “big ties” in the music industry. Those ties will come through in a huge way when me and the Rebels land a spot on KRFC’s “Live at Lunch.” A masterful performance will leave the host with only one thing to say: “Derr gonna be out derr listning to dat.”

When it’s time to cut my debut album I plan on collaborating with South Dakota native Corey Carlson. Together we will write a powerful ballad about life in his home state with meaningful references to the open range, Mount Rushmore, a half finished tribute to Crazy Horse, Deadwood, and Flintstone’s Village. It will be the hit single that propels my record (“Dodge City”) to #1.

Before no time I will be making out with Carrie Underwood in the back of my tour bus and rubbing elbows with hot shots like Tony Romo and Kid Rock. Then I’ll probably get really drugged out and/or become a drunk. But whatever. Carrie Underwood is hot.