New Year’s Revolutions

YAP: NEW YEAR’S REVOLUTIONS

 

1. Don’t Drop My Cell Phone In
The Toilet (Anymore)

 

There’s a lot of reasons you might
want to adhere to this resolution. Let’s say hypothetically that it was in your
sweatshirt pocket and you were standing up taking a pee. (Ladies, you might
want to skip this unless you’re Melissa Ferrick fans. In that you might stand
up to pee. I love Melissa Ferrick, she’s wonderful but her audience prides
itself on being bull dykes. Many of them are reading this now and saying,

“How did he know I like to
stand up and pee? How did he know I dropped my cellphone in the toilet?”)*

 

(BTW: See Milk, it’s incredible.)

 

Anyway, your cell phone goes down
in the water, you got to fish it out and then:

voilà, no more light-up, no more speed dial, no more communication. The
thing is, not dropping your cell phone in the toilet is a lot easier to resolve
than losing weight. Or quitting smoking.

 

2. Grow A Lot Of Hair

 

This is going to be troublesome.
But I’m tired of too few options. I’d like to look like Christopher Walken. Or
Maybe Mickey Rourke in The Pope Of Greenwich Village. Or Joe Strummer circa 1979. Elvis, for God’s sake. It’s
too late for Rogaine, and wigs look bad.

 

3. Keep My Car Clean

 

My wife won’t ride in it anymore.
Very few people will. I’m turning over a new leaf. The only thing is, in my
defense, is that I have to live in it, kinda, when I’m gigging. And you know
how it is, you’re late for the soundcheck, you drink a cup of coffee, you down
a Red Bull, you eat a protein bar, you do an espresso, you chew some caffeine
gum, you do your last few pep pills, you got to put the wrappers and empty cups
somewhere, right? So you toss them on the floor. Then you get to the club and
you gotta run in do the check, blast through the gig, drink six or seven more
cups of coffee, get back in the car and drive six hours, drinking seven or eight
Red Bulls. Okay, you got a bit of a pile on the floor.

 

But when you pull over to sleep, whaddaya
gonna use for a pillow? Isn’t the trash ideal?

I rest my case. And I rest my head
on the comfy junk.

 

But I’m turning over a new leaf. Some
of those leaves are on the floor of my car.

 

4. Stop Screaming At the
Audience

 

No one enjoys this. It isn’t
helping. Who do I think I am? I’ve tried to get out but they keep pulling me
back in. Some audiences are getting hip to my idiosyncrasies and when they see
my threshold clearly on the horizon they stand up and scream.
“INCOMING!”

This is doing no one any good.

 

5. Stop Reading The Comments Under
My Favorite You Tube Music Or Comedy Videos

 

People have too much time. And the
ones that do are usually young, I know, and they write stuff under videos about
say, Bill Hicks or Jack White or Burroughs or anybody but Gene Vincent and it’s
adolescent or asinine or something so off the mark that I think “Geez, this
depresses me.”

 

That’s not why I watched the video.
It was to entertain, or inspire or study. And it’s like messing with a bad
tooth. I can’t not look.

 

No more scrolling down on ’09.

 

6. Fun! Fun! Fun!

 

Let’s face it. These are tough
times. The economy sucks and it affects all of us. It’s hard to keep a brave
face and a stiff upper lip. But Gosh darn it, life’s too short. Unemployment is
up. And this new administration isn’t going to help certain vocations. For
instance: torturers.

 

What’s an unemployed waterboarder
going to do in this new administration? I guess they could get a job at the DMV.
Now that I think about it, I’ve often waited in line three hours to be told
that I didn’t have the right paperwork and it felt like somebody had attached wires
to my testicles.

 

But I digress.

 

I think that I forgot to have fun.
So… I’m going to make a effort to seek it out. Tonight I’m going to a
nightclub in Manhattan to check out some live Brazilian music. I’ll let you
know. I might ride around in the car with a Beach Boy, maybe Brian or Al. Certainly
not Mike.

 

Anyway thank God 2008 is behind us.
That goes double for the last eight years. (Hey, was it my imagination or did
Obama absolutely refuse to play the
lowest common denominator card? Was his whole platform, “I know you’re better than this? I’m going to appeal to your
intellect and compassion? Your greater humanity. Not just as Americans, but
people. Oh, you know he did.)

 

Anyway, that’s it for now…until
next time I think I’ll listen to my Beatles Live At The BBC. Fun, see?

 

I realize that you can’t see the
twinkle in my eye when I write this stuff. It’s a joke. Don’t write me. See #5.

 

 

Ed Hamell picked up the guitar at age 7 and started
writing songs not long after. In his early 20s, Mr. Hamell was the front man
and writer for an original band, but local bands were a dime a dozen in the
tough, working class neighborhoods in Syracuse, NY. So he launched a one-man
act called Hamell on Trial. Six albums (plus a live one)
and countless shows later, Hamell himself is one of a kind. Catch him on tour
this summer in the U.S., Canada and Europe.

 

 

 

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