Archive for October, 2011|Monthly archive page

Ain’t Nobody’s Bid’ness

In Uncategorized on October 18, 2011 at 8:06 pm

Ladies and Gentlemen,

We interrupt the normal course and content of this blog for a public service announcement.  The Funky One has resumed the mantle of Guest Columnist for the Lexington Dispatch.  The first of his brainy and provocative columns was published today and can be viewed        He has invited comments to be made to the blog and posted this entry for that purpose.  Thank you for your patience.  Normal service will resume quickly.

Funky Beno


Top Ten Songs About Pain

In Uncategorized on October 10, 2011 at 3:35 am

Top Ten Songs About Pain

10. Achy-Breaky Heart” – Billy Ray Cyrus.  Back in the late sixties and early seventies, some inept and scuzzy movie directors tried out a wonderful new film-making technique intended to dazzle and provoke audiences.  They tried to make the experience of watching the “action” on screen provoke in the audience the same emotions the characters were experiencing.  In other words, if the character on screen was mortally bored, watching the movie would make the audience mortally bored.  The late Andy Warhol was a master of this technique.  Watching the sole character in “Sleep” for eight hours……sleep, would…..well, in the immortal words of Steve Earl, “You know the rest.”
I include Cyrus’s misbegotten, two-headed, Thalidomide baby of a song in this list for the sole reason that to listen to it is to suffer acute,
soul-crushing distress.

9.  “You’ve Got to Hurt Before You Heal” – Bobby “Blue” Bland.

8.  Only the Lonely” – Frank Sinatra.

7.  “A World of Hurt” – Drive By Truckers.  Any song that starts off “I was twenty seven when I realized that blowing my brains out wasn’t the answer” is a song to be reckoned with.

6.  “The End” – the Doors.  See explanation for number 10.  This delightful little ditty makes one want to ooze into the car, clump into the worst part of town, score an overdose of heroin, then inject the overdose by needle into one’s veins (and it this case that’s appealing, from one who has spent 33 months being stuck repeatedly by medical sadists), and one can accomplish all this before the song ends!

5. “You Alway’s Hurt the One You Love” – The Mills Brothers.  Since the list is of songs about suffering, rather than inflicting pain, this song does not really qualify.  Hovever, including it complies with one of my LIFE RULES: never neglect a chance to mention the Mills Brothers.

4. “Misery” – The Beatles. 

3. “Crying” – Roy Orbison. 

2. “I’ve Been Hurt” – The Tams

1. “Hurt So Bad” – Little Anthony & the Imperials.  Come to think of it, Little A’s entire catalog is a chronicle of agonly.  But this song is the Beethoven’s Ninth of Pain. Little Anthony himself is the messiah of pain.

Dunno if you need confirmation, but the doctors all concurred that my innards are handsome, indeed.  Deirds and I are off for a few days at the beach, so

Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory

In Uncategorized on October 4, 2011 at 3:52 pm

Good day Mr and Mrs America and all the ships at sea, and the planes in the air, and the automobiles, buses and trains on the ground!

After having spent so long feeling like a hairball coughed up by life, I yesterday revisited the Medical Center of my discontent.  Bretheren and Cistern, I was looking forward to my ablation-follow-up PET scan.  It was good again to visit with Joseph, who camped at Philpott Lake in Virginia when he was a kid.  I would almost consider him a fond acquaintence if he didn’t always stick me with a needle.

Joseph injected me with radioactive dye, then left me alone on a recliner in a darkened examining room to wait 50 minutes for the dye to circulate.  I reflected briefly on many things, not least the fact that you no longer have to go on a low carb diet for two days before a PET scan.  I could thank the radiology department for the French toast I enjoyed for breakfast on Sunday morning.

I had carried my ipod for this trip to the 3d circle of hell, knowing that the ambience would not prove conducive to serious reading.  I plugged in the ear pods, and wound up grooving for 48 minutes to Boz Scaggs and the Tower of Power.  When a different tech interrupted, saying it was time for the scan, I almost slapped her.  I had been having a really good time.

Scan accomplished, Deirdre and I visited Twin City Beverage to pick up two sixes of Flying Dog ale to have on hand for a day when I may safely drink again.  We returned home and I touched ground in the every day.  Over the next 18 hours, I ate, slept, bathed, and wondered idly if I could conjure a readable and interesting blog post about the mundane life of the Beno and the current functioning of his brain.

For example, I have started talking to animals.  This might be forgivable if it only involved Dusty, our cat.  But my conversational partners the last few days have included a kingfisher, a beetle and 48 squirrels.  Every morning, I indignantly address the hummingbird hovering at the feeder on our back porch, saying, “Dammit, are you still here?”  This morning, I swear, I heard her respond, “I could ask the same question of you!”

Sunday afternoon, I sat down at my computer after my nap.  I tried to type.  Gibberish appeared on the screen.  It looked like I was trying to replicate some wierd middle European language that had 33 consonants and 2 vowels.  Some of you may know that I have an old fashioned cell phone, in which you have to tap a key several times to find the right letter when you text.  My problem was that I was tapping away on the keyboard as though it were my cell phone.  I was trying to text an email.

Mid-morning today, however, the dark clouds parted, the sun shined, and the Lord began whispering in my ear in his still, small voice.  I don’t hear worth a damn, but it sounded as though he was saying something about the landscape.  The phone rang.  It was my doctor.  While we were talking, he pulled up the report and the images from my scan.  According to the scan, my ablation was entirely successful.  and the scan identified inflammation around a broken rib as the likely source of my lingering pain.  Finding where the scud missle launchers are parked means you can take those suckers out!

Oh, happy day, a hubba hubba hubba! Amanda Knox is my sister in spirit.  I feel like Moses would have felt had God reappeared around a rock and said, “I’ve changed my mind – you can enter the promised land.”  In the end, guise and dolls, what I mean to suggest is that this is a day which is semi-above average.

I sincerely hope that you, too, feel ahead of the game.