It's Christmas Time in the City...

...and in the country for that matter! Either way you look at it, the time has come to make the necessary arrangements for another memorable Christmas week! But obviously, even on the happiest of occasions, things go wrong. Tis the season to be non-committal, thoughtful, hospitable, and the host of a bunch of people who sometimes don't get along well. Fa la la la la, la la la la.

1. Shopping
Why is it that some people are so hard to buy for? It gets old after the third year in a row that your rich Uncle Larry opens your gift and says "Ohhh hey. Now I have two of them." Didn't you spend enough blood, sweat, and tears battling large and brainless crowds at the mall to get him one of those?

Solution: If Uncle Larry complains of getting another one of "those" again, cheerfully tell him that you like him to always be up-to-date, never be without a spare, and then tell him that his other one was worn out anyway. (Caution! This does not work if you got him a subscription to this blog. He can only have one of those.)

2. Difference in family opinions
There is a reason your cousin Lester and your nephew Bert never visit each other. They oppose the other on every count. They sit at opposite ends of the dinner table on purpose. One asks for you to pass the mashed taters, and the other mumbles about how he's always asking for handouts. One asks what you thought of Star Wars' Rouge One, and the other mumbles something harsh in Vulcan.

Solution: Don't give them anything to talk about. When asked your opinion of the election, chuckle and say "It was one for the books,"  then brag about how well your job is going (assuming you have one, but they don't need to know if you actually do). When asked if you prefer Lucasfilm productions or Tolkien's works, choke on your sweet tea and take the attention off the impending fight.

3. Incompatible Food Allergies
Since the Tofurky flopped last Thanksgiving, as it jolly well should have, you've been wracking your poor brain on what you could possibly cook that would satisfy your gluten-intolerant, vegan, non-GMO, and breatharian loved ones. You come up with nothing. Why is it that no two family members eat the same foods?

Solution: Tell everyone you've found the perfect meal for all. Leave them in intense suspense. Keep them eagerly anticipating the meal of their dreams. Right before dinnertime, set your kitchen on fire and moan that dinner is completely ruined. Let them fend for themselves and show them to your refrigerator. 

It is important to never lose sight of what you're celebrating. That in itself will make the celebration more meaningful. Hopefully, your holiday gatherings are not all as bad as I make them out to be. Not all families argue over each insignificant detail, I get it.  I was blessed with a very like-minded family: we all hated the Tofurky. Blech.

NaNoWriMo Update and Vlog again

I can hear your cries for answers. They sound something like:

"Sooooo now that November is over, what ever became of that novel you were working on? You know, the one that was going to be written in one month?"

Well I am proud to tell you that I did indeed come up with a novel in a month. However, it didn't quite make the full 50,000 words.

Nor 40,000.

Nor 30,000.

Not even 25,000.

But man, I had a good time. Here is me reveling in my completion:

NaNoWriMo Update: A sad state of affairs.

Alright. I'll admit. It's harder than I thought it was going to be.

I thought I had enough time in each day to pound out 1,667 words. I thought I could do that much. However, I ended up busy with other things.

For example, November was the month I volunteered to work at a voting booth. It was also the month McDonald's starting making the Peppermint mocha again (not a sponsor yet). It was also the month I was a witness to a minor car accident. It was also the month I posted a couple times to this blog. It was also the month I celebrated Thanksgiving. It was also the month I didn't participate in Black Friday (again). It was also the month that I would look at my novel document and say 'nah, I haven't got anything new to say yet' even though I probably could have. Who knew I was going to be this busy?

I was so busy, in fact, I made this update for you all:

So here's to a somewhat finished novel in a few days! To all you NaNoWriMers out there, I hope you are doing better than I am. Don't give up, November ain't over yet!

Is It Christmas Yet?

Depends on who you ask.

Already, radio stations everywhere are playing music about snow and Rudolph and even some are Heralding Christ's birth in Bethlehem. Stores are throwing garlands in their window displays. I've ordered the Peppermint Mocha twice in a row at McDonald's (not a sponsor yet).

Am I missing something here? Did we skip a holiday? Or is Thanksgiving not a thing anymore?

Don't get me wrong, I often find myself in the "Need a little Christmas right this very minute" mood. And that mood is increasing as the weeks go on and the season feels more winter-like. Walking through Old Town today, I was kicking through huge piles of leaves of all sorts of different colors! It was fun! Then, the gardener chased me away with a rake. Also, did you know the thermometer plunged down to 71 degrees today!! Jingle Bells, Jingle All the Way!

But I sure could go for some turkey and gravy and I think we need to take a moment and show thanks to God that 2016, despite all its problems, still finds us, for the most part, intact. We should declare a holiday of thanks right before Christmas and the new year. Oh wait, we have.

Allow me to help you counteract all the premature Christmas cheer with some well timed Thanksgiving music! Below is your new playlist:

I'll Say Thanks
Food On the Table
Thank You Lord
Simple Life
Turkey in the Straw (C'mon, you knew this one was coming.)
Fork in the Road (Okay, I included this one because the second verse says "frost on the pumpkin" and pumpkins are Thanksgiving-y)

Hopefully that gets you started in the right direction!
Merry Thanksgiving!

NaNoWriMo Progress Report: The First Milestone

I'm such a busy guy. I don't possibly have time everyday to write more of my novel. But somehow, someway, I've made it to 10,000 words.

For those of you cheering, throwing confetti, and celebrating with me, I might add I should be somewhere around 25,000 by now. Bummer, right?

But at least I'm getting somewhere. I'm also learning a lot! I'm learning how much I hate my writing style, I'm learning how bad I am at making story lines cohesive, I'm learning how hard Sir Arthur Conan Doyle must have worked to make Dr. Watson dumber than Sherlock Holmes, and I'm learning how Mark make word forming together to gives grammar thought on paper. That last lesson has been the hardest. This is way harder than it looks.

I would like to take this moment to recognize my NaNoWriMo Buddies for Word Sprinting me and doing better than me in all things Novel:

PaulWillis
Malachi Cyr
Lavinia Scott
hearthandhomeauthor
H. L. C.
Anna Willis
Allison Tebo

If I live through November and make it to the full 50,000 words, it'll be thanks to these brilliant people.

Of Novels and Smartphones

Those of you who have been wondering where my posts have been lately (thanks mom)will take joy in knowing I'm still alive. I've just been a little on the preoccupied side since two huge developments came up in my life.

The first is my cell phone. My friends all used to be annoyed when my little disposable Playskool cell phone would drop calls or misplace texts. They would ask why I'm not on Instagram or Snapchat  more (and seriously, what is the point of Snapchat anyway?).  I have upgraded to an actual smartphone now. The cool thing is this smartphone actually works!!

I have discovered the joy of apps...like looking at the radar when a storm passes by,  or calculating (and not caring about) how many calories are in a Wendy's baconator (not a sponsor yet), and applying filters to my face so I look like a dog or a vomiting tomato on Snapchat (which apparently is  the point of Snapchat).

The next big development in my life had to do with a nice organization called NaNoWriMo. Yes, friends, I'm taking the challenge. In the month of November you will encounter a tired, enthused, and courageous Mark who will be writing a 50,000 word novel in exactly 30 days. Even if my novel writing skills amount to nada, I can say at least I tried.

So to celebrate all of the above I wrote this entire post with my new phone (which was a mistake). But now I have to save my strength so I can write 1667 words everyday of next month.

Someone please have food delivered to my room....

The Time Jumpers Come to Town

Not a seat was left vacant at the Musco Center for the Arts on the beautiful campus of Chapman University. The whole crowd was buzzing with excitement as Bob Wills, Merle Haggard, and Asleep at the Wheel played over the speakers. We all were here for one thing:

The Time Jumpers.

From the moment they walked on the stage, the crowd was giddy with excitement. Or maybe that was just me. It's not often I get to see Paul Franklin, Vince Gill, Ranger Doug, Joe Spivey, Kenny Sears, Larry Franklin, Jeff Taylor, Andy Reiss, Brad Albin, and Billy Thomas perform together on stage.

Actually, I've never seen any of them perform before. This was my first time, and I certainly hope not my last.  There is no word in the English language to accurately describe the musicianship, brilliance and showmanship of the Time Jumpers. If there was one, I'd use it.

There is something to be said of Western Swing in that it will find a way to lift your spirits even on the sad songs. I don't believe I ever stopped smiling once. I felt like a rich kid at Christmas, or a chubby kid at Thanksgiving.

Ranger Doug (Idol of the American Youth, Governor of the Great State of Rhythm) played the archtop guitar, Billy Thomas played the drums and Brad Albin played the bass. Together, they were the rock solid rhythm section. Everything these three played was brilliant, and absolutely tight.

Jeff Taylor played the accordion and piano. Each solo was nothing short of extraordinary, and the backup riffs he played were true to the classic sound of Western Swing.

Larry Franklin, Joe Spivey, and Kenny Sears played triple fiddles. Sometimes in impeccable unison, sometimes in tight harmony, or sometimes separately showing their prowess and "setting fire to the stage" as Joe Spivey later described it.

Vince Gill and Andy Reiss played twin guitars. Together and separately, their solos were absolutely amazing. Guitarists of all skill levels sat upright in their seats when they played.

Paul Franklin was on the pedal steel. There is no sound quite like the pedal steel.  It is one of the finest sounds in country music. Paul Franklin is the champion of that sound and brought applause with each and every solo he took.

With the perfect blend of instrumentals, originals, and classics, the entire night of music brought something fresh, exciting and at the same time, vintage. From the moment Paul Franklin kicked off "All Aboard", a tune he wrote for the pedal steel, to Billy Thomas' "Blue Highway Blue", which is featured on the Time Jumpers' most recent album, the audience was delighted by the seemingly endless creativity of the band's members.

Vince Gill told the story of naming his daughter "Corina" after his favorite song. His wife, Amy Grant, was not too enthusiastic about the idea and they ended up waiting several days to name their baby. Much to Amy Grant's dismay, when they told her father about their predicament Mr. Grant started singing the song and the matter was settled. Now, it's a story they all laugh about and Vince Gill sings "Corina" every night.

In tribute to the late Dawn Sears, their 11th member, Vince Gill sang an original song she recorded called "Faint of Heart". Kenny Sears, her husband, wrote "Too Much Heartache for this Heart to Take" after her passing and performed it in the country shuffle style she loved so much.

The Time Jumpers revisited some old classics from the vintage catalog of Western Swing and old country. From their bluesy rendition of "Pipeliner Blues", featuring the soulful vocals of Vince Gill and moving bass lines of Brad Albin, to the re-imagined Hank Thompson "Six Pack to Go" (which I was surprised wasn't about 24 Hour Fitness), and Ranger Doug's baritone on Bob Wills' "Deep Waters", the range of styles was as diverse and epic as the talent on stage.

I may be biased, but the best song of the night was Larry Franklin singing "That's What I Love About About the South", a song about southern food. I may have to make a separate blog post about that. I love southern food.

There were so many more songs that night but it would take me centuries to talk about how awesome each one was. I lost track of all of the standing ovations the Time Jumpers got. They closed the night with Ranger Doug yodeling "Give Me a Pinto Pal" which brought the crowd to their feet yet again.

Every member of the group was so nice to those that met with them after the show. They all made time for us, even Vince Gill who literally just came back from Arnold Palmer's funeral and had had no sleep for the past two days.

As much fun as the audience had, the band members assured us they were having an even better time. Joe Spivey said "I'm 60 years old and I'm still having fun doing this. It really is a blessing."

I made sure we picked up their most recent album "Kid Sister" and we listened to it in the car. Let me just say this once:

IF YOU DON'T HAVE THEIR NEW ALBUM, DO YOURSELF THE BIGGEST FAVOR OF YOUR LIFE AND GET IT NOW! YOU WON'T REGRET IT, IN FACT, YOU WILL BE THANKING ME FOR TELLING YOU TO GET IT!

Okay, now that the commercial is out of the way, and I have urged you to make your life a whole lot happier and richer by buying The Time Jumper's "Kid Sister" album, I shall leave you with the lyrics to the Time Jumpers Theme, which they performed that night, and even released on the "Kid Sister" album.  I believe this embodies exactly who the Time Jumpers are.

Three fiddles and a steel guitar
an accordion and twin guitars
That rhythm section, they can play anything
Well we're here from Nashville, Tennessee
We love the way it used to be
We're the Time Jumpers, we play Western Swing

Coping without IBMA

There is no describing the joy one gets walking the town of Raleigh, NC alongside all of your bluegrass heroes. It's the most awesome feeling in the world to connect with old friends for your annual jam session. Essentially, it's Disneyland for the bluegrasser. It's what the NQC is to Southern Gospel groups.

....so I'm told.

I have yet to make it to IBMA's World of Bluegrass. Every year, I tune in to the awards show, and I stay glued to social media to watch all of the awesomeness that happens on the other side of the country.

Rest assured if you share these feelings with me that you are not alone.  Even though it seems like everybody and their brother's gerbil goes to IBMA and leaves you at home to do normal life stuff, there is a world of bluegrassers out there who are also missing the fun and frolic. 

So here's the plan: I hereby declare a festival of IBMA proportions for those who cannot attend. We shall call it...

...IBMStay which stands for International Bluegrass Music Staycation. Half the fun, twice the loneliness, for FREE! Let me tell you how it works.

Gather all of your favorite bluegrass records and play them back to back to back. When that is finished, post videos online of yourself picking your favorite tracks from these albums with the hashtag #IBMStay. If you find someone else in your friend's list chose the same song/key as you did, tag them in every single video you post until IBMStay is over. If you happen to come up with really awesome licks or figure out instrumental solos note for note, post a video online of you doing a Workshop and tag every single person you know who plays the same instrument as you. The most crucial part about making this festival work is that you MUST be alone and never make contact with anybody face-to-face.

Otherwise, you might as well had gone to Raleigh. 

Dressing for Success: A step-by-step guide (with Pictures)

As the Father of Bluegrass once told a fiddler of his: "You can't play bluegrass wearing striped britches." Other than that, we conclude, anything goes.

My band and I strive to always dress well for our shows. In fact, if there were an IBMA Award for best dressed band, I would like to think many of y'all would cast a vote for us (knowing that the Del McCoury Band and Doyle Lawson & Quicksilver would win each year anyway).

Ask any bluegrass band if there is a right way or a wrong way to dress on stage and they will give you unintelligible answers. No one could mistake the Kentucky Derby look of the early Bluegrass Boys, then the string ties and hats of Flatt and Scruggs. But then along came a checkered cowboy hat from Jimmy Martin, followed by who-knows-what from the inimitable John Duffey.

Like this.

It's okay. I hear your cries for answers. To sum up the bluegrass cut of clothes as best as possible, we require a formally casual country themed business attire, where bolo ties and boots didn't die with the 90s.  Hats and mullets optional.

Let's break this down.

The above example is only okay in two situations. One: if you're starting a Southern Gospel group, and two: if you're going for the look of this classic album cover from 1999:

Notice how the camo hat in the first picture really makes his head look like it's not there. That's what camo does. Notice in the second picture, they look like they actually know what they are doing (unlike in the first picture).

Speaking of hats, let's talk about that.

The first bluegrass band never went without hats. Flatt and Scruggs seldom went without hats. However, if hats aren't your thing, you can omit them. Just make sure you have epic hair (a la Del McCoury, Ricky Skaggs, Larry Sparks, etc.)

Check out the side-by-side difference between the epic hat look and the epic hair look. If you can't be the Meyerband, you can always be the Johnson Mountain Boys.

Let's talk about ties. As far as which ones to wear, I would argue that Hot Rize is the clear winner.

Honorable mentions would be the following:

Basically anything these guys wear works.

And finally,

Sometimes I feel like we're the only group who still wears these bolo ties, but I could be wrong....

If you can't bring yourself to wear a suit and tie, you have the ever popular (and ever in style) Hawaiian shirt.

So there you have a by-no-means-exhaustive look at the official bluegrass dress code. There are so many different "looks" to a bluegrass band that it is a little difficult to precisely pin it down. 

Hopefully, you found this post to be enlightening. May your band always look like this:

And NEVER like this:

I told you John Duffey was eccentric. Now he's got Keith Whitley in on it, too.

Gif me a Break.

I would like to point out once and for all that "gif" is pronounced with a hard g sound as in "Graphic Image File.

This may not seem like a huge deal to most, but I confess that when I hear someone pronounce it "jif", a little piece of my soul dies.

To make my point as clear as possible, and at the suggestion of some friends, I did what any other bluegrass musician would've done: I wrote a protest song.

As far as protest songs go, this is my first one. However, I hope that it possibly makes people think and I hope that it really shows the "jif" people the error of their ways.

Please share if you pronounce gif the correct way! The Internet community needs you. Badly.

Always Believe El Camarero

I'm not sure if years of playing guitar have given me tough fingers, or if every waiter/waitress I've ever had thinks I look like a wimp. But every time I'm told "Careful, that plate is hot", it only turns out to be mildly warm. At the most, it's hot, but just cool enough for me to scoot across to my corner of the table.

I'm used to that by now. Every time they caution me to be careful, I nod and say thanks, and reach out for my plate. I don't even think twice now. Silly them.

Today, my family and I visited a local Mexican restaurant called El Torito. A family favorite that we've been visiting since before I was born. As we walked through la puerta, a Mexican gentleman showed us to our mesa. He said "Buenos dias, can I get you something to drink?" Which, if my college level Spanish is correct, means "Good dias, can I get you something to drink?"  What a friendly guy! But then, I learned a valuable lesson just a few moments later.

That lesson came when el camarero brought my cheese enchilada and chicken flautas to the table. "Muy caliente!" he cautioned. My college Spanish kicked into gear and I understood that he was telling me my plate was very hot. I grinned as he set my plate on the table. I'd heard this one before. Sensing a possibility of warmth coming from my plate, I played it safe and used my very strong pinkies to scoot my plate a little closer to where I was sitting.

Ouch.

When you have nerves of steel like I do, it is easy to hide any feelings you might have, or any emotions that may come. Somehow, though, el camarero figured out that I was in seething pain. Or at least my pinkies were. He stood at the end of our table and shook his head. "I told you so." he quite audibly scolded.

I laughed. My parents laughed. My siblings laughed. The table behind me laughed. El camarero laughed. My enchilada probably laughed too. We all had a good time.

So let me give you all this word of advice. When you go to El Torito, and your camarero says your plate is muy caliente, believe him. He's not kidding.

Bluegrass Breakdown Ep. 5: Don't Cross the River

We all know that sometimes, bluegrass lyrics make a little less than a good amount of sense. That's what I'm here for. I will explain the meaning of bluegrass songs verse by verse. Today we visit Don't Cross the River.

Before I begin, I just know some of you are scratching your heads trying to think of a bluegrass song by that title and only coming up with the song by America.  Picture that version in your head, now add Terry Baucom's banjo style to it.

Presto.

Now, let's begin.

There's a little girl out lyin' on her own
She's got a broken heart
She's not the kind to take you down for long
She knows and plays it smart

Honesty is the best policy in this instance, for we clearly see an image of a little girl fibbing out of depression. The silver lining is that she never tells untruths too long because she's smarter than that. Be like that little girl. Stop lying. We all know the real truth.

And if she's comin' she's showed no mark
She's heard no whistle blowin' from the dark
She feels like leavin' and she don't know why
Without no bridges she's trapped, so I sigh

There is no greater rush than a songwriter writing your name into a song. "Showed no Mark". That's me!! This is my favorite verse. What the songs says is true: she never showed me she was coming just like the song says. I can vouch. Every thing seems to be quiet where she lives and the bridge is washed out anyway.

Don't cross the river if you can't swim the tide
Don't try denyin' livin' on the other side
All your life
You were on your own

Sage advice for all you Olympic Swimming trainees. Michael Phelps didn't win no gold medals by denying living on the other side all his life. He spent countless hours swimming to school uphill both ways in the snow. He was on his own.

If you want you can ride my train
And soon forget the reason that you're leaving
You'll lose yourself and then sometime
Maybe even save yourself some grievin'

Just what the doc ordered: A scenic train ride to leave all your worries and cares behind. A time to actually forget that you jumped on the train to get somewhere important. Also, you always lose yourself when you're leaving and forget your train tickets on the piano at home. Maybe next time you'll save yourself the grieving for once and put them where you'll remember them.

Oh, oh, oh, oh

The jury was out on whether the actual lyrics were "Oh, oh, oh, etc." as written here, or if it was actually "Whoa, whoa, whoa, etc.".  My official committee of professional linguists, zealous poets, and unbathed hippies agreed that the actual lyrics should be read as "Oh, oh, oh" primarily because of the sharpness of the individual words and the individuality of the syllables making the overall effect more poetic than "Whoa, whoa, whoa," since that's only nonsensical verbal sounds (and not real words).

Don't cross the river if you can't swim the tide
Don't try denyin' livin' on the other side
Don't cross the river if you can't swim the tide
Don't try denyin' livin' on the other side
All your life
You were on your own

Let them just reiterate this sage point again and again. It bears repeating apparently.

I must admit this one was probably the hardest to interpret out of all of the Bluegrass Breakdown episodes I've had. Who could understand lyrics when the Duke of Drive himself is playing banjo over them?  Much too busy listening to the banjo work.

Bluegrass Breakdown Ep. 4: The Cuckoo

We all know that sometimes, bluegrass lyrics make a little less than a good amount of sense. That's what I'm here for. I will explain the meaning of bluegrass songs verse by verse. Today we visit The Osborne Brothers' The Cuckoo.

Oh, the cuckoo she's a pretty bird
She warbles as she flies
But I never give her water
Till the fourth day of July.

Okay, starting with the chorus: Flying feathered friends you say? Nonsense. "The Cuckoo" is the name of the author's car. He named it that because it makes a delightful "Cuckoo" sound when it drives with a dry radiator. Also it's a 1973 Thunderbird, that's why he calls it a pretty bird. His thirsty bird is noisy, and it would not even start on a hot day like July 4th with an empty radiator. Also Thirsty Bird sounds like a band name. Someone make that happen, please.

It is often that I wonder
Why women love men
And I look back and I wonder
Why men are men.

The first two lines are answered by the next two lines. Why do women waste their time when men really love their precious 1973 Thunderbird that makes really awesome noises?  Because men will be men. Boom. I've just solved the biggest mystery in the history of mysteries.

Gonna build me a castle
On a mountain so high
So then I can see my true love
As she passes by.

Let me set the scene for you. *Phone Rings* "Hello?" "Hi, I'm just in the neighborhood and was gonna stop by and say 'hey'" *Click*. Now you have to run around the house and cram everything in The Closet because company is literally at your doorstep unexpectedly. Sound familiar? The only solution is to build a castle (because it's hard to cross the moat), build it on high ground so you can see people coming for miles and miles.

Jack of Diamonds, Jack of Diamonds
I know you of old
You have robbed my poor pockets
Of silver and the gold.

If you've seen this man, call the authorities immediately. Long blonde hair, no facial hair, blue eyes, pale complexion, last seen holding a sword, last seen wearing a red, yellow, and blue uniform. Alias: Two-Eyed Jack, Two-Faced Jack, and Harold. Wanted for Robbery, and public possession of swords.

There you have it! One of the most confusing bluegrass songs explained. I must admit I had to call my special committee in for a conference in which we spent countless restless hours sifting through lyricist theories like the Warble Fly being referenced as a metaphor for one who is basically a parasite, and the Jack of Diamonds verse being about gambling addictions. My special committee and I worked tirelessly to bring you this completely accurate interpretation. They all are on vacation now.

Is there another song that has confusing lyrics? Let me know! I can explain them to you on the next episode of the Bluegrass Breakdown!

Bluegrass Breakdown Ep. 3: White Dove

We all know that sometimes, bluegrass lyrics make a little less than a good amount of sense. That's what I'm here for. I will explain the meaning of bluegrass songs verse by verse. Today we visit White Dove.

In the deep rolling hills of old Virginia
There's a place that I love so well
Where I spent many days of my childhood
In the cabin where we loved to dwell

So now we've established the author's race: He's Virginian and he's totally okay with that.

   White dove will mourn in sorrow
   The willows will hang their heads
   I'll live my life in sorrow
   Since mother and daddy are dead

Birds you say? Nope. This is an unabashed plug for Dove White Beauty Bar! For softer smoother more radiant looking skin! The reason that it's mourning is because living life in sorrow means waking up in the morning and not feeling like taking a shower. You can imagine how the willow trees will wilt after a while. And it's all mother and daddy's fault!

We were all so happy there together
In our peaceful little mountain home
But the Savior needs angels up in heaven
Now they sing around the great white throne

Again, the author is totally cool with being Virginian. More power to him.
Now, those of you who read your Bible are thinking "this is impossible, no one can read my mind" and the next thing you're thinking is "but people don't become angels when they die! Psalm 8:5; 1 Cor. 6:3; etc.!" Precisely. The lyrics actually mean that there are so many people in Heaven, that the saints-to-angels ratio is lacking on the angels side. And now that I say this out loud, I doubt the Biblical accuracy of that statement also.....

As the years roll by I often wonder
If we will all be together someday
And each night as I wander through the graveyard
Darkness finds me as I kneel to pray

So after all this about how great Virginia is, the author goes and loses his way on a hike or playing PokemonGO or something. He wanders in circles and finds himself at the same graveyard night after night, which incidentally, was not a Pokestop. Wondering if he'll be with all of us again, he prays that he can find the road home. And then the song ends. Talk about a cliff hanger. Allow me to finish the story with my own two verses:

"It was bout a week ago I found the home place,
And I'm as happy as the landlord will allow,
Now that we are back together for the long haul,
I think I'll go take a shower now.

I will use my special White Dove soap Bar,
I'll be cleaner than I ever have been,
And the second I emerge you will notice,
I have smoother softer more radiant skin!"

There you go! A resolve to a cliff hanger song about a man and his love for Virginia! Dove is not a sponsor. Yet.

Is there another song that has confusing lyrics? Let me know! I can explain them to you on the next episode of the Bluegrass Breakdown!

Bluegrass Breakdown Ep. 2: Footprints in the Snow

We all know that sometimes, bluegrass lyrics make a little less than a good amount of sense. That's what I'm here for. I will explain the meaning of bluegrass songs verse by verse. Today we visit Footprints in the Snow.

Now some folks like the summertime when they can walk about
Strolling through the meadow green it's pleasant there's no doubt
But give me the wintertime when the snow is on the ground
For I found her when the snow was on the ground

This has been your daily weather report. In case you were wondering, there are two kinds of people: Pleasant summertime people, and the rest. Also, the author of this song wants you to forget about summer because it has nothing to do with the rest of the song. Psyche!

   I traced her little footprints in the snow
   I found her little footprints in the snow
   I bless that happy day when Nellie lost her way
   For I found her when the snow was on the ground

It takes a bit of doing, but I can gather that the "her" in the first verse is Nellie in the chorus. Notice the order of the verbs in this chorus: 1.) traced 2.) found. So the author actually made the footprints himself, left, came back later and found them. Also, Nellie has a horrific sense of direction, much to the author's amusement. Finally, the last line of the chorus has confused so many vocalists over the years. Was Nellie dead when he found her? Was this the first time he ever saw her and they later fell in love and got married? The following verses explain it better, so this is kinda like foreshadowing.

I dropped in to see her there was a big round moon
Her mother said she just stepped out but would be returning soon
I found her little footprints and I traced them through the snow
I found her when the snow was on the ground

Two key words here: dropped, and moon. The very fact that both are mentioned in the same breath says "falling through the roof" to me. Further, going off the first two lines of the song, it seems to me to be a poorly timed sky-dive proposal. As he drops from the plane, he can't help but notice the big round moon. When he lands on the living room floor (literally came down with the shingles), Nellie's mother was like "What? She ain't even in the house, bruh!" Oh and roll that foreshadowing thing about finding her again.

Now she's up in heaven she's with the angel band
I know I'm going to meet her in that promised land
But every time the snow falls it brings back memories
For I found her when the snow was on the ground

Now it all comes together. Now it makes sense. So remember that foreshadowing thing in every verse and chorus? Here's what it was leading up to. Once upon a time, the author met this girl, Nellie. All was hunky dory until he decided to do a skydiving proposal stunt. Poorly timed and barely planned, he makes the jump at night just after she already left the house (her intentions still unknown and never divulged). He goes outside to look for her, draws footprints in the snow for fun, miraculously finds her that way, but, alas, she's up in Heaven with the Angel Band. Must've died of frostbite, because the author emphasizes there being snow on the ground. And this didn't happen in the summertime, by the way.

And there you have it! That confusing Footprints in the Snow actually makes sense now! You're welcome, earth!

Is there another song that has confusing lyrics? Let me know! I can explain them to you on the next episode of the Bluegrass Breakdown!

Bluegrass Breakdown Ep. 1: Little Maggie

We all know that sometimes, bluegrass lyrics make a little less than a good amount of sense. That's what I'm here for. I will explain the meaning of bluegrass songs verse by verse. Today we visit Little Maggie.

Oh yonder stands little Maggie
With a dram glass in her hands
She's drinking away her troubles
She's a courting some other man

If you are under the impression that Little Maggie is an alcoholic, think again. "Dram" is a unit of measurement and the lyrics describe her as "drinking away her troubles", therefore, she is actually a pharmacist who has prescribed herself the perfect remedy for whatever it is that's ailing her. And she's also on eHarmony apparently.

Oh how can I ever stand it
Just to see them two blue eyes
A shining in the moonlight
Like two diamonds in the sky

The author of the song can't stand going to see his pharmacist at night. All you can see are her eyes, and obviously, no one can read the prescription in the dark. How can one stand that? Could be dangerous.

Last time I saw little Maggie
She was sitting on the banks of the sea
With a forty-four around her
And a banjo on her knee

By coincidence, the author ran into his pharmacist when they both were on vacation at the beach. Even on vacation, she is well prepared to defend her little timeshare of sand should she be held up by bandits. She's also very musically inclined. Cool!

Lay down your last gold dollar
Lay down your gold watch and chain
Little Maggie's gonna dance for daddy
Listen to that old banjo ring

Little Maggie is hosting the father-daughter dance fundraiser this year. Every little bit helps. And now it's time for the banjo break.

Pretty flowers were made for blooming
Pretty stars were made to shine
Pretty women were made for loving
Little Maggie was made for mine

This verse is probably most confusing, but I shall explain. Try to keep up:
Just as pretty flowers were made for blooming, etc. Little Maggie was born to be a pharmacist and she is probably the best this town has ever seen. Good job there, Maggie!

And that's about it! Now you can sing "Little Maggie" with the satisfaction of understanding the words! You're welcome.

Is there another song that has confusing lyrics? Let me know! I can explain them to you on the next episode of the Bluegrass Breakdown!

New Shoes, New Face, New Album

Everything is details. Small details. Seemingly insignificant details, until you realize the details make the whole difference.

Like buying shoes for example. I walked through that shoe store looking for just a normal pair of tennis shoes (so I can walk and stuff), and I could not find the men's section for the life of me...

...until I realized I was standing right by the men's section and I thought they were women's shoes the whole time. Sad.

Thankfully, I did leave that day with brand new manly tennis shoes, but I often wondered why anyone would want a pair of shoes with tacos on them.

Details, details.

I know it was just tacos, but wouldn't that look just a little silly with blue jeans and a belt buckle? Details make the difference.

I'm also growing a beard since I don't have any gigs for a few days. I'm growing it because I think it looks good. I'm shaving it before our next gig because no it doesn't.
I use the term "beard" quite loosely, by the way. Not much to go on.

Details, though. I need to look decent for gigs, right? Riiiight??

And don't worry, just because I have a new Instagram account (@therealmarkwimberley) doesn't mean I'll be posting selfies everyday. That's not what Instagram was invented for. I think?

The siblings and I are excited for our new album which will be released very very very very soon (How bout the 27th. Sound good?). This album has been in the works for four years, and it's about time we actually release it.
But our song list kept changing.
But our album title kept changing.
The recording studio sessions kept getting moved around.
The album cover needed designing.
The vocal mix here and the instrumental break there needed fixing somehow or another.
Metadata needed data-ing.

Details. Tiny, inconspicuous details.

Details, when overlooked, ruin the entire project.  What were we to do? We needed to release an album, and as we say in college, a project is never done, it's just due.

The point of this whole post was quite simple:
Oh wait, there was no point. I must've overlooked that detail...

4 Lessons I Learned On Tour

You know me, I always love traveling. If it were free, you'd never hear from me again...til I showed up at your house. Because it's free.

After several weeks of tromping through beautiful, dear, old Dixie, I bring our tour to a close next week with five nights at the OC Fair. I love my job.

Nothing is ever easy, and that includes doing the things I love. When life gives you lemons, pretend they're just oranges and eat them with a smile. Here are some nuggets of wisdom I gleaned from my most recent tour with my band:

1. Sit with your back to the wind around the campfire

The reason is simple: The smoke and ashes don't get in your eyes...

...as often.

2. Drive the California Highways with an even temper

We spent weeks in the south driving the highways without so much as one stupid driver, nor were there bumper-to-bumper cars crammed on the road. It was not long after we entered California again when the number of cars increased and the collective IQs diminished. That's all a part of traveling through the Golden State. Don't let it get to you, or you're gonna have a miserable trip.

3. Sometimes the thing tugging on your line ain't a fish

True story. 

4. If the hat fits, buy it (as long as it's not dirty)

It has been about four years since I've been able to fit in my performance hat. Frankly, I miss it. I've been meaning to buy a new one for years, but I have a head that's shaped like a de-horned gazelle (I guess?). Last week, I found one that actually fit on my noggin without hiding my ears or crushing my skull, but it was covered in dust and lint and the brim was bent. Needless to say, I'm still hat-less and will continue to perform so until further notice.

I hope these lessons will be of some help to you in the future. 

These lessons can also be metaphorical if you'd like. Think of something and get back to me.

Water water everywhere...

When you settle down for the night and find your air conditioning dripping a little bit of water, you would probably be a little bit concerned.

When it is one hour til showtime and your air conditioning is dripping a lot of water, you would probably be a lot concerned.

No worries, thought we, we'd just clean the coils and it would keep the condensation down to an absolute minimum! During sound check, I was informed the problem had been fixed!

Coming back from sound check to change into performance clothes, I was greeted with even more dripping water from the air conditioning. The problem was back. Whoever said a musician has a monotonous life?

After the show, I sat down and did some research on air conditioning units. One blocked draining hole later, our problem was finally solved. How did we celebrate? By turning the air conditioning up. It's so much better dry, believe me.

Now I sit in beautiful Texarkana about to go fishing....
Then the thunder rolls and lightning strikes...
And the radar shows a beautiful orange colored storm. I'm cool with that. I can dig it.

At least the air conditioning doesn't leak anymore! Bring on the rain!

The Curious Thing About Greenville

When you wake up in Arkansas to drive across the Mississippi River (via a bridge of course), there is usually no reason to suspect anything could possibly go wrong between now and the destination ahead.

I was wrong as usual. Oh, the things I go through because I love bluegrass so much!

The unmistakable sound of air escaping a tire interrupted the drone of the road, and we found ourselves with an almost-flat outside rear tire in Greenville Mississippi. Crawling along with hazards on, we made it to the nearest Walmart tire center, which apparently doesn't work on RV tires. No worries, they say, there a tire shop down the road a ways.....

...which was closed for good. But the ol GPS alerted us to another tire place....

...who wouldn't work on RVs.

We limped all over Greenville trying desperately to find someone to fix our problem. Just when we concluded that Greenville doesn't fix tires or RVs, we found Tire Town, USA (which is actually in Greenville, it's not its own town).

Tire Town USA found our problem: our tire's valve stem shook loose. Easy fix for them! Quicker than you can throw mechanic puns (This drill again, he looks two-tired, etc.) they were finished and we were back on the road to our next gig.

Thanks Tire Town USA!

Breaking News: One More Chair to be Added to Jam Circles

The age-old debate has seemingly been settled once and for all. Harmonicas are now an official bluegrass instrument according to the International Association of Bluegrass Music (IABM).

When asked to comment, president of the IABM, Paul Songmeister said "We have been trying to figure out for years what that sound was behind the Foggy Mountian Boys and the Osborne Brothers. We are proud to announce that we will be nominating harmonica pickers in this years' award show!"

Long time musician and festival goer, Ron Jambuster, was not as enthusiastic toward the association's decision. "If you can't play it with a pick, it ain't bluegrass!", he told our correspondent. When asked to clarify about the fiddle, which uses an ancient bowing technique, Mr. Jambuster turned his back and left, muttering something about Mac Wiseman's country career and Uncle Josh Graves.

Bands throughout many bluegrass festivals are beginning to dissolve over disagreements on when to put the harmonica solo in Little Maggie, arguing that the line "Listen to this ol banjo ring" should precede the banjo solo exclusively.

My special correspondent interviewed a real life harmonica picker at a local festival and he released this statement:
"I am so thrilled to finally have a job! Polka won't accept us, we're not cool in country music anymore, and we're so cliché in singer-songwriter music circles. We can't all be Bob Dylan, you know."

Bob Dylan has not released a comment as of yet.

Mr. Songmeister looks to the future: " By 2023, we hope to discover that percussive noise behind JD Crowe's band to give those instrumentalists their due as well! These are exciting times in music!"

The Story of the Day I (Almost) Died

It was a race against time and nature as the highway ahead ran straight into the storm cell we had seen coming for a long time. The radar showed nothing, and thus deceived us to think it was just a passing shower.

All I can say is, Noah should've had it so easy. The little north Texas town of Electra was about to see a storm that an urban California dude like me would call a "woolyburger", but a rural boy would probably just call it "big".

We had been on the road for three days, trying to make the town of Jefferson before the weekend. The rain came down with such vigor, that we could no longer see the highway before us. Just when we thought we would be drowned with many drowns, the wind kicked up. This wasn't a "Let's go fly a kite" wind, that would be too easy. The wind blew with more enthusiasm than a chubby kid eating ice cream. One by one, the trucks and cars began to pull over to the shoulder, hoping to wait the storm out. We pulled up the radar again as soon as the hail started because we were certain that this wasn't "nothing", even if we were in the open country. The radar showed us a lovely shade of pink right where we were pulled over. Aesthetics aside, pink was as high as the radar could possibly go, which we interpret to mean "hang on, it gets worse".

For what seemed like a month short of eternity, we sat on the side of the road, unable to see the car parked literally feet in front of us, and the hail fell faster. As the wind kicked up to 60mph (no joke), rocking our poor RV violently, we discovered the edges of our windows leaking, and rain coming through the carpet. I suddenly gained an appreciation for all the spiders I've sent down the toilet.

You're probably thinking "you were scared, weren't you Mark?" Guitar pickers never get scared.

I became a mandolin picker during the storm, though.

The weather report calmly assured us it would all be fine if we moved to the lowest floor of our building. I knew we shoulda bought that two story RV!

At long last the weather let up enough for us to see the road. Since we did not tip over or disintegrate, as we almost did, we took off down the road to outrun the rest of storm. Oh the things I go through for bluegrass, risking life and limb to play music once more. The next day found us in as few pieces as possible in sunny Jefferson, TX.

We were happy to be alive, happy to still be in TX, happy to have suffered only very minor damages, and wouldn't wish a storm like that on our enemy.

Except spiders. They still deserve that.

The Last of the First Generation: Dr. Ralph Stanley

My posts are usually brimming with light-hearted humor, but today, the bluegrass community feels the sting from the passing of Dr. Ralph Edmund Stanley. I had the distinct honor to have been Dr. Stanley's liaison at the 2015 Huck Finn Jubilee. That was by far one of the highlights of my life. My siblings and I love collecting old records, and one of my favorites is the Stanley Brothers' Columbia Sessions. There is no mistaking the unique banjo picking style and high tenor voice of Ralph Stanley along with the impeccable songwriting and vocals of his brother Carter.

Dr. Stanley will be missed, but never forgotten! This is my tribute to him.

After Bill Monroe set the music industry on fire with his unique brand of country music later known as bluegrass, another band took the music scene by storm. This band was led by two brothers from the Clinch Mountains in Virginia: Carter and Ralph Stanley. Their music became as iconic as the genre itself, with songs like "Molly and Tenbrooks", "Man of Constant Sorrow", "Clinch Mountain Backstep", "Angel Band" and so much more. So powerful was their sound, that they became the second bluegrass band ever to become members of the Grand Ole Opry.

Since that time, Dr. Ralph Stanley impacted so many young musicians' lives with his music. He won several Grammys, made it to the top of the country charts with his collaborations with Josh Turner and the "Down From the Mountain" tour/"O Brother Where Art Thou" soundtrack, received several honorary doctorates, and discovered such talents as Ricky Skaggs, Keith Whitley, and Larry Sparks.

Bill Monroe became close to the Stanley Brothers and after the untimely death of Carter, Bill Monroe sang an acappella rendition of "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" at his funeral. Then, placing his hand on Carter's casket, he said "We will meet again." 30 years later, at Bill Monroe's funeral, Ralph Stanley sang an acappella rendition of "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" and turned to his casket and said "We will meet again.", just as Monroe did at Carter's funeral.


I looked over Jordan and what did i see?
Coming for to carry me home
There was a band of angels, coming after me
Coming for to carry me home

Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home

I'm sometimes up, and i'm sometimes down
Coming for to carry me home
But but i know my soul is heavenward bound
Coming for to carry me home

Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home

If you get there before I do
Coming for to carry me home
Tell all my friends that I'm coming too
Coming for to carry me home

Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home

RIP Dr. Ralph Edmund Stanley 1927-2016
We will meet again.

The Wheels on the Bus Come On and Off....

I wish I were making this up. The day before we left on a long road trip to play two gigs over the weekend, I was sitting in my living room with a refrigerator door in pieces spread out before me. Basically, I was trying to pull a 0.125" thick piece of plywood out from the plastic frame to no avail.

Our RV is old by RV standards. We've been traveling to gigs in it for years and years. It's seen a lot of wear and tear. Up until this week, we had duct tape keeping the refrigerator door from falling off. Our air conditioning would only blow out warm air (thus defeating the purpose of even having it) and the generator wouldn't start. And those are just the minor problems.

So, the week before we hit the road, I'm running all over the state trying to manipulate what is left of our RV like a reverse game of Jenga.

To make a long story short, our RV was not fixed. It was merely propped up together so that the wheels could roll and take us to our destination.

We've seen a lot of good times with that RV. So many happy memories. So many exciting adventures and excursions.

While we were at said gig, another nationally touring band parked their huge bus near the stage. It was beautiful. It even had their faces on it. Breath taking.

Just when you thought this post was about being content with the things you have, I'm announcing that I'm making plans to hijack their bus on the way back to Nashville if any of you want to help. We'll meet at the rendezvous with the recognition code "Prevost".

Must...Play...Faster!

If there's one thing to be said about banjo pickers, it's that they always raise the bar when it comes to tempo. It's easy enough, after all. They only need to move three fingers. With just a little effort, a banjo picker can hone their skill to the point of driving the rhythm guitar insane.
Oh hello! It's me again; your friendly neighborhood rhythm guitarist struggling to keep up.

I don't mean to be "that picker" who complains that the music is too fast, but I am sometimes. When those times come, I have to find ways to step up my game. It's time for:

Mark's tips of the trade! Episode: Train 45

Besides a stiff macchiato (as only the Italians can serve), there are not many ways to improve your quick picking abilities on the spot. When the banjo picker kicks off Train 45, you guitarists better be on time or die trying. (That is, figuratively die.) Let me introduce you to something I call "The Half-time strum" (I need a better name for it, clearly).
Step 1: Down stroke with your pick the bass note of a chord. Do it very quickly.
Step 2: Pivoting on the momentum of your down stroke, play the rest of the chord on the upstroke. Quickly.
Step 3: Repeat. Super super quickly.

When you first try it, it may sound somewhat empty. But when the timing of the song gets along in a hurry, you'll be glad you tried it. Watch people like Del McCoury, Jamie Dailey, Dustin Pyrtle and more use this technique on all the fast ones. If it's good enough for them, it's good enough for us, eh?


For those of you who completely zoned out through all of that since you aren't a guitar player, just know that I either completely revolutionized the way they play rhythm, or messed them up bad enough to ruin their music career for the rest of eternity.

Next time you see me in concert, pay close attention when we hit a fast song. I'll be in all sorts of pain trying to keep up. Just shout from the audience "Hey, Mark! Don't forget your Half-time strum!" If I hear you, I will be grateful to you for reminding me. Please don't request another fast song from the audience. I will die. Figuratively, not literally.

1000 views! Very first interactive post!

Such a joyous occasion! A few days ago, this blog reached 1000 page views! What's a dude like me to do? Celebrate of course!

So, to celebrate, I am going to compile a group of videos that YOU will make. I will list a list of prompts. You will choose any prompt and create a humorous video based off of the prompt. When you all turn them in, I will compile them to form a completely fictional account of how I started this blog. If you want to choose more than one prompt, be my guest. Don't tell me you don't make videos. I know you do. Even if you don't, do it. C'mon, it's a celebration!

Here they are:

Prompt 1: Four siblings are eating dinner and each have a very important announcement.
Prompt 2: Something is missing from the internet.
Prompt 3: Heavy Metal: The Bluegrass Musical.
Prompt 4: Really bad blog name ideas.
Prompt 5: Accidental hero returns home.


All of the above should include a character named Mark (hence the fictional account of how I started this blog) and can be however long or short as you want. Keep em funny, fictional, and clean. I can hardly wait to see what you all create.

Also, the famed blogger Kimberly Grace is just a few views shy of 2000. I wonder how she will celebrate?

Thanks a million for visiting with me on this site. Here's to more good times in the future! Y'all come back now, ya hear?

10 Reasons to be Happy!

Let's face it: Life stinks sometimes.

Even the happiest of people get the blues every now and then. It happens. No one ever promised life would be fair. And it's not, believe me.
But even in the midst of life's trials, there indeed are reasons to smile. Here are just ten in order from least to greatest.

10. You're not a brontosaurus
This is definitely a reason to smile. Imagine how tough it would be not being a real dinosaur until someone figured out that you actually were. And think of how sad it would make you to see people eating chicken nuggets in the shape of your friends. It's probably not even real chicken.

9. You are not Force sensitive 
Just when you think Force powers would be good to have, imagine what a sneeze must do. The Force would suddenly intensify profusely for a split second, destroying everything within reach. What's that you say? Use the Force to not sneeze? C'mon, do you really have that presence of mind before a sneeze? No. That's not how the Force works, young padawan.

8.  You are not the hedges in my backyard
If you were, I would have the unpleasant duty of walking by you every so often and hacking your limbs off. Be glad you are not my hedges. If you are my hedges and you're reading this, I have a huge question...
How did you get the Wi-Fi password?

7. You are not a spider
If you were, no one would like you. And you'd have to eat bugs all the time. But no worries, I know for a fact you are not a spider, because spiders can't type, even if they can surf the web.

6. You are not me
Not just because of the outrageous pun you all rolled your eyes at. But seriously, I would never get along with myself if there were more than one of me. I annoy myself enough as it is.

5. You are not William Jackson Millingtonworth 
Because no one has ever heard of him and he actually doesn't exist.

4. You are you
And you do that so well. Keep doing that!

3. You can breathe
So take a moment real quick and do it. See? Felt good! Don't forget to do that periodically.

2. If there is a tomorrow, you have a second chance
So you messed up today? Only one thing you can do: Don't mess up tomorrow. Chances look fairly good that tomorrow will come. If it doesn't, you can say you tried today. Just remember not to let today be the day you wish yesterday was. Did I lose you there?

1. You woke up on the right side of the dirt
If you can read this without having to open your coffin, congratulations! You have the opportunity to do stuff. Seem trivial? Just like I said earlier, if tomorrow never comes, you have today. Make it a good one! Those of you who know me (which is probably all of you) know that I count this as a huge blessing. God took a look at me and all the stupid stuff I've done and still said "Yup, give him another shot at it."


So, if you read this entire post, you have no excuse to not be smiling now. If you're happy and you know it, shout "yahoo". If you just audibly shouted, you are my best friend. If you sang that song out loud, you are my best-est friend. If you're still not smiling, oh well. Better luck tomorrow.

The Most Relevant Blog Post You'll Ever Read

This is the age of pseudo-professional bloggers. You know, guys and girls like me who write stuff that runs around in their heads that they hope others will want to read.  If that is you, and you are reading this, you are my people. If you're not, know my people are everywhere. After all, this is the Internet.

Here's the problem: if you're anything like me, you will get quite bored reading mundane, un-creative, tedious posts about making dinner or card tricks or something. If you're a lot like me, you'll get sick of reading Gagnam Style, Justin-Kardashian-Bieber,  Star Wars XVIIIIIIII, pop culture-riddled posts that will be obsolete by the time I publish this. But I guess it depends on who you are.

So what do we write about? Well, depends on your genre.

Are you a Mom-blogger? Please tell us about your children. What do they eat? What are they allergic to? Did they teach you some little nugget of wisdom inadvertently as all children stereotypically do? All the other stay-at-home-moms will be inspired to be as good a mother as you someday. Oh and please post of video of you in a happy Chewbaca mask. That could be viral....

Are you a poet? Please publish the works that are your life blood that no one wants to pay for. Every so often, include one about being a starving artist and implicitly beg for your readers to support you financially. They won't, but at least you can say you tried. In rhyme.

Are you a political activist? Please tell me why I'm the world's biggest sucker for voting for my candidate of choice. Be as sensational as possible. Avoid facts. Your party and candidate will thank you. Now's the best time for this, what with the election and all. Mention Donald Trump's name to get more views and more fights.

Are you someone who leads a boring life? Write a "Dear Diary" but make it all up. Observe:

Dear Diary, I wish those people in Hollywood would stop calling me about playing the next Indiana Jones for their series reboot. Everyone knows that guy who plays Han Solo would be the best. Or Chris Pratt, who sent me a letter once. Anyway, it was good to hear from Chuck Norris today. He called me on the phone to ask how to pronounce 回し蹴りをスピニング。 (which is Mawashigeri o supiningu). Oh well, gotta run down to the White House now. This country ain't gonna run itself!

Are you a movie critic? Please spend your hard-earned cash to give me the pros and cons of each movie that ever hits the big screen. Is it worth my time? Will I be bored? And please no spoilers. What kind of cruel person would do that??  Make sure to add lame and weak levity to your critiques like "Is it enough we all found out we were pronouncing Voldemort's name wrong? And what's with the nose?"

Are you a humorist that reflects on his own life and times?  Write a blog post about writing relevant blog posts. Mention as many famous stars as you can. Make a few pop culture references too. You're also me. Way to go, me, on the meta-blogging (you know, blogging about blogging).

Hopefully, if you came here looking for valid tips, I was of some help to you. If I wasn't, you could always book me to come speak at your corporate event, you know, to clarify. I don't charge much...that is, no more than Steven Spielberg would charge....

When We All Get to Heaven

I pass by friends all the time on campus and more often than not, we stop and talk awhile.

We never pass up an opportunity to lament about midterms and finals. We all go through them and the struggle is very real. It's one that's relevant to us and we all begin to feel close...like astronauts about to go to space in a 1930s airplane with no parachutes. You know: Ill-prepared. Not suited well for success.

I can't help but think that it won't be like this when we die. When we get to Heaven, there won't be any finals and homework and stuff. We'll already have passed our final.

But then I think about what happens to us college students right after an exam. We suddenly become friends.  There is something about the harrowing experience that brings us all together.

Then I can't help but think, this is what Heaven will be like. We'll have gone through life and experienced death and everything. We'll all feel connected like that.

I was watching Hopalong Cassidy the other day. It made me a little sad and lonesome for the days when the good guy always won. I feel like I missed out on the days when the average townsfolk had no qualms about joining the hero's posse to bring Truth and Justice to the lawless.

And I can't help but think that it won't be this way after life is over. In Heaven, there will be no bad guys. The good guys will already have won and will have no more battles left to fight.

Think about that, the final battle will be finished. That makes all of us saints "the good guys" in the town. We'll be sitting on the front porch of Heaven's general store remarking about how great it's been since He's "cleaned up this town".

So I think again how wonderful Heaven will be with no more need to join a posse. There's one job description that won't exist!

But now I'm thinking about politics. And laughing. Then crying. We're doomed. We also have great things to look forward to. Talk about being bipolar.

In Heaven, there will only be one party. There will only be one Ruler. No economical problems, no foreign policy issues, no more debates. What a day of rejoicing THAT will be!!

Until then, however, we must remain patient and remain occupied.
So my best advice is read The Book and order pizza. At then least it will feel like you've had some success. No, honestly, that's the best advice I got. Too busy with finals to think up anything else.

The Over Achiever I Am

I am that guy.

The groceries make it to the car in one trip or I am not a real man.

And no, those little hand-held baskets don't count. Not even close.

It's just the way I am. Fine, go ahead and roll your eyes at me. I also have to strive for perfection and greatness. Is that such a crime? Of course not!

If the basket has to roll all the way to your car, you are doing it wrong.
For one thing, I know you have no intention of ever putting it away correctly and will leave it in that parking spot next to you that someone else wants. (Yeah, I'm looking at YOU.)
For another thing, you have to stand at your car and deal with the gaudy basket on wheels that roll and fight any traffic that is circling for parking spots. While fighting a basket that rolls. On wheels. Into traffic. Smart.

So maybe I'm making a big deal out of this, I suppose. But it's really not my fault. I'm not the one who says "Let's run inside for one gallon of milk," and ends up having to pass by the express lane after counting beyond 15 items in the cart.

Everything goes in one trip. Period.

That Lonesome Road of Life

Think about this: There was a time in your life that your parents picked you up, held you, set you back down and never picked you up again.

Do you feel old now? Welcome to my world.

With graduation looming ever nearer, adulthood becomes inevitable (save the possibility of grad school but that's another subject to accrue debt over).  Job hunts are not as fun as hide-n-seek used to be, that's for certain.  It feels more like a corporate version of red light/green light.  I won't even mention student loans and their sick version of freeze tag.

But you're never too old for gummy bears so I got that going for me.

Ever notice at graduations that the old poem by Robert Frost called "The Road Not Taken", is over-read?  Okay, we get it. You took the road that wanted wear and then you got so lost you couldn't come back. Why don't you just come out and admit you procrastinated on your homework?

But it is quite often read as a tale of regret. It mourns the decision to take a certain path without ever finding out what happened on the other path. How appropriate for graduations.

Honestly, I feel that a certain passage from A.A. Milne would be a smidgen more appropriate:
“Pooh," said Rabbit kindly, "you haven't any brain." 
"I know," said Pooh humbly.”

That says it all right there.

It doesn't take much of a brain to admit that like it or not, I have to grow up sometime. Now that I'm almost done with college and getting jobs and things I suppose now is as good a time as any. Time for me to put off the childish things and actually become a mature human being.

Wait, there's good news.

I was talking with a buddy of mine in Nashville couple weeks back (I hate to drop names so I'll be as ambiguous as I Kanye). We both strayed from our conversation to lament about how adulthood comes sooner than you expect. My friend pointed out that as a banjo picker (psyche!) he technically never grew up either. That brought up an interesting point:

We have to grow up, but that doesn't mean we have to lose our childlike spirit! As long as we have a desire to grow, we are still as children and we have the curiosity and fiery passion to learn more. Growing up is mandatory, but losing the child in you isn't.

And so it is this cycle of growing and staying young that puts one foot in front of the other on this road that wants wear. Only you can walk the road of life. I can't do it for you.

So now is the time for the announcement! I've finally grown up and am a little kid again! Let's celebrate with an apple juice and a nap while we sing our favorite VeggieTales songs...right after I get home from work!

I Can't Get No Satisfaction

For those of you who got past the ridiculous grammar in the title, I will disappoint you again by mentioning that this post has nothing to do with the Rolling Stones.

But life never works exactly how we want it.  The unsinkable still sinks. The unbreakable still breaks.  The unthinkable still...thinks. My voice still breaks when I sing...

This past week I've been recruiting for my capstone research project, but everyone I talk to does not meet the qualifications to participate. C'mon!

Last month I changed all the strings on my guitar, but something didn't set right on the .035 string so it couldn't keep it's tune and broke five minutes after I took it out of the package. Why me?

The other day I had a large iced coffee, but the barista served it with a medium straw so that the more I kept drinking, the farther my nose sank into the whipped cream. Really, people?

Just when life's plans start shaping up, something goes wrong. Curse you, Murphy and your stupid law!

But life goes on. I guess I can't complain. Young bucks like me can find a lot of things to complain about, but the reality is the majority of our complaints are little ones. In the midst of a life bent on success, things will go wrong even if you try and you try and you try and you try...

Nobody promised life would be easy. Nobody promised life would be fair. It's up to us to stop complaining, get some whipped cream on our noses and make the most of it.

How to make money writing a blog!

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Every Western Ever

There's no need a looking for Roy and for Gene,
They've disappeared from the big movie screen,
They've been replaced now by violence galore,
And nobody kisses their horse anymore.

If any of you all have heard the above song, you get my overall feeling for old westerns. I grew up on them and still watch them when I get the chance. I miss the days when our silver screen heroes kissed their horses.  Ever since I can recall I've wanted to be a cowboy, and sometimes, I wish I owned a horse to kiss. I was talking with a fellow western-enthusiast the other day (you may know her from her blog) and we thought about some of the greatest western movie cliches that no western should be without.

1. If you can't decide if you're good or bad, look at your hat or facial hair. 
With the exception of Hopalong Cassidy, good guys wear white hats. Bad guys wear anything from black hats, to grey hats, to bowler hats, to Dapper Dan pomade. Bad guys also have a very wimpy mustache that's almost unnoticeable until you see them up close.

2. Getting shot is no big deal. Getting hung is another story.
For being a common method of threats and intimidation, gunshot wounds are the easiest to patch up. Just take the ol bandanna, put arm in it as a sling, make sure the elderly doc takes a look at it, and that cowboy is up and running by the next scene! Also, shooting a man is punishable by hanging. Cheating at cards is punishable by hanging. Stealing cattle is punishable by hanging. Falsely hanging someone is punishable by hanging. There's no recovering from the trusty necktie party. Bummer.

3. On the white hat team, there are two sidekicks. One thinks of food, and the other thinks of girls.
The hero is lonely and hungry.

4. The bad guys have bigger blabber mouths than the sidekick who thinks of girls.
Even though the sidekick who thinks of girls is always telling the hero's plans to the girl who was actually working for the bad guy, it is usually the bad guys who tell more of the family secrets. How often has the hero been tied up in a chair inside a deserted cabin to have the bad guy say "And now that I have captured you and am going to shoot you and kill you, I will be free to go back into town and rig the election so I will be the mayor and impose ridiculous taxes on the incoming cattle so I can make a fortune and bankrupt cattle farmers from here to Kansas!" Thanks for the info, El Diablo.

In tandem with this we have...

5. Bad guys are all stupid except for the leader.
Seriously, we would never know what the evil plan was if the Boss didn't repeat it for the umpteenth time, and this time conveniently on the silver screen for the viewer's delight. Sounds something like: "I don't get it boss, why do we steal the gold when we can just get a job and earn it?" "Listen, lunkhead, I'll do all the thinking!" Amirite?

6. Of all the Indian tribes that were stirred up in the west, the Apache is the only one to be scared of.
"The Apaches are coming!" No way. Cue the crying women, frightened children, and noble sharpshooters. Sure, history documents that the Apaches made a lot of attacks in the olden days, but that's a different story.  Where are the other tribes? The Apache territory was placed in the southwest from Arizona to the southern side of Texas, a relatively small area. You can't tell me every single western took place in that one teensy area. Oh, you can? Ok then.

7. Dynamite is a game changer.
For some reason, there's always the old timer with dynamite. Or maybe that was just Gabby Hayes. At least he was always around when they needed him.

I anticipate a stampede of western movie enthusiasts pointing out all of their favorite shows or movies that doesn't fall into these cliches. To those people I say hold your horses and holster your guns! You noticed I left out the part about the singing and yodeling posse (and I saw a movie once where they bad guys where the singers), the horse that understands complicated instructions ("Go find Dale and tell her I need some rope, Trigger!") and that one old man named Grubstake who served as the toothless comedic relief. There are a lot of generalizations to be made with any old movies, but the ones listed are my absolute favorites.

As I ride into the sunset, I just want to emphasize how much I miss good old fashioned westerns. Entertainment just ain't the same without them.

Until we meet again, happy trails, saddle pals!

So let's take our hats off to those long gone cowboys
The Hoppys, the Genes, Rex Allens, and Roys,
They've cast a long shadow we're all searching for,
Where nobody kisses their horse anymore.

The Most Brilliant Genre Crossover

Let's play a game. Please sing the following lyrics to the tune of "King of California".

Twas brillig and the slithy toves,
did gyre and gimble in the wabe,
all mimsy were the borogroves,
as the mome raths outgrabe,
Beware, my son, the Jabberwock
the Jubjub and Bandersnatchy
Their claws still catch and jaws still bite,
go kill the Jabberwocky, go kill the Jabberwocky!

Amazing, right?

Now you are probably wondering why I made you whiffle and burble through all that. Let's face it, the vorpal lyrics made little sense and were stolen uffishly from Lewis Carol. But you can galumph beamishly knowing that Lewis Carol basically wrote bluegrass songs....he just didn't know it yet.

Let's try another one! Please sing the following to the tune of "Hot Corn, Cold Corn".

One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish,
Black fish, blue fish, old fish, new fish,
Sad fish, glad fish, thin fish, fat fish,
I wish that I had eleven fingers, yes sir!

Pure genius methinks.

I'll bet at this point you're still confused about this whole idea. If you're wondering if being confused in this case is good or bad...go ask your Dad. But Seuss and bluegrass mix well I say. Try it, try it and you may also agree with me.

Allow me to explain. Chris Jones recently published an article about combining Seuss and bluegrass lyrics together and then the twitter account @horse_bluegrass began to follow me (which is what inspired Chris Jones). This got me to thinking, so I thought to myself that we might have a phenomenal phenomena on our hands!

But I think we should cut out the middleman. Why combine when we can each corner one aspect of the market? We take these awe-inspiring lyrics and just mash them to the awe-inspiring sounds of bluegrass. Confidentially, Seuss couldn't sing a lick. And while I think bluegrass lyrics are some of the best in the business, there's always room at the top. Nothing wrong with a bit of expansion. While most bluegrassers sing about talking racehorses, why not be original and sing about the frumious Bandersnatch?

So with this it is my honor to announce plans for my new CD called "Through The Looking Grass with Mark Wimberley".

It's gonna be brillig! It'll be the cat's hat! It should be good.

When I First Met You Down on Lover's Lane...

This post is actually a response post. A blogging friend of mine, Sarah Liz, invited all the blogging dudes she knows to give a list of the top five things to look for in a girl since she did one the other way around. Fair enough.

She knows as well as anybody else that bluegrass song writers have been trying to settle on a top five since the Monroe Brothers recorded their RCA Victor album in 1936.  But I suppose everyone is different in their opinions. Here are my top five:

5. Wears muddy boots.  

"Wow, Mark," you must be thinking, "way to take it to a very shallow level." Maybe you don't understand the significance of muddy boots. An adventurous girl would never wear sandals to go rock hopping in a creek bed, nor would she wear running shoes to go hiking on a mountain. "But, Mark," you complain again, "doesn't having messy boots indicate that she's sloppy and untidy?"  In the first place, I said "muddy" not "messy" and besides,  even if she cleaned her boots regularly, it wouldn't matter if they only got muddy again shortly thereafter. If a girl is adventurous enough to get her boots muddy, she understands how to prepare for the unpredictable and be able to roll with the punches.

4. A Multi-Instrumentalist. 

A girl with the patience to learn how to play several instruments and be able to create music fluidly and interchangeably with each one has the patience to deal with a guy like me, and to properly raise a family. Learning your first instrument is hard. Being able to stay focused on it to master it requires patience. Learning a second, third, fourth, bazillionth instrument builds on your patience. Being married is hard (so I'm told). Marriages often fail when either party loses patience with the other.

3.Great fishing stories. 

"Okay, Mark," you interrupt again, "what's this one for? Memory?"  Let me tell you about fishing, since you obviously don't get my drift here. When you throw your bait into the water, your brain begins to come up with hundreds of reasons why you will not catch anything. Maybe you cast your rod the wrong way, the sun is in your eyes, this isn't "the spot", your bait probably fell off once it hit the water, a turtle stole your hook, etc. But if you don't commit, you will never catch anything. You need to be stronger than what tries to stop you. A girl who has epic fishing stories knows the commitment it takes and the overall strength one must posses to actually be successful and reel in "the big one". In this fast-moving society, young people have trouble sitting in one spot and waiting for something uncertain to happen. Those with great fishing stories do not have this problem.

2. Sings in harmony. 

Many people just want someone to talk to. Sad fact, they get themselves a boyfriend/girlfriend for solely that purpose. True, I may look for a girl who listens to me, but she also should not hesitate to add her own voice. Harmonizers are some of the most well respected in the bluegrass industry. They can blend with literally anyone (maybe with the exception of Bob Dylan, but that's a different post) that needs backing up. A girl who can harmonize knows how to listen, but is not afraid to contribute, to add, to blend her perspective.

1.Can sing the last verse to "Awake My Soul And With the Sun".

"Whoa now, Mark! Aren't we getting a little too specific, here?!?" Thanks for another interruption, again. If a girl can sing the last verse to this specific hymn, I know she's been spending a lot of time in church. When you spend a lot of time in church, you tend to go through the hymnals (please tell me I'm not the only one??). Not only are the lyrics to this song deep, the last verse is where the Doxology comes from. A girl who knows this and can sing this clearly puts God first in her life before all else. 

Now first off, this post by no means indicates that if you posses these allegorical qualities that we're going to hit it off well and end up on the same burial plot when our grandchildren lay us to rest. This is not the magical checklist that makes me fall in love with you. Sorry.

But now let me address the men reading this.

It seems we are especially zealous about making "checklists". It seems we always hang out and say things like:

"Hey bruh, what do you want in a girl?"
"Oh, I'm glad you asked, broham. Here's my official checklist accompanied by a diagram to scale."

Maybe we need to think a little more critically about this whole situation. Have you ever thought past that and wondered what kind of husband you want to be? "Super macho" is a given, I mean besides that. If I expect the future Mrs. to be a good listener, shouldn't I also be a good listener? If I expect the future Mrs. to be patient, should I also put forth the same effort? Should I exhibit the same attitude of strength and commitment? Should I be trying to move closer to God to let Him direct my paths? I think we can agree the answer is yes to all of the above. After all, the future Mrs. and I are going to be living together until death do us part, if not longer.
Let me extend this challenge to all my bros who are single:
Learn to harmonize, don't be afraid to get your boots muddy, and don't leave God when you finally find a girl.