Here's a silly little satire of all those "dad's/granny's/grandaddy's" advice country songs.
I remember when I was five
Playin’ in my grandparent’s drive
I fell off my scooter and skinned my knee
Grandaddy helped me clean my cuts
He whisked the gravel off my butt
Then he smiled and gave this advice to me
Old Milwaukee makes me sick
Run go check yourself for ticks
Y’know that youngest Golden Girl sure looked nice
Then with a tear in his eye
he said I love me some squirrel pie
That’s why I never took Grandaddy’s advice
I remember in seventh grade
Ridin’ in grandaddy’s Chevrolet
He pulled over and said it was my turn
As I slipped into the driver’s seat
and felt the pedals under my feet
Grandaddy smiled and said “It’s time you learned...”
Look both ways before you leap
Damn my drawers are startin’ to creep
How do they make them Crispies out of rice?
He said urine cures hemorrhoids
Thank goodness I never took Grandaddy’s advice
Ten years later I heard the news
Grandaddy’d flown his earthly coop
Died in his sleep with a big grin on his face
At his service I said a piece
Told some advice he’d given me
And I could almost hear his voice say...
Don’t pee on an electric fence
Look I just found thirty cents
Pour me some V-8 and vodka over ice
The Lord knows I loved that man
but I’m sure you all understand
That’s why I never took Grandaddy’s advice
(tag: in a sad voice with minimal music backing)
Old Milwaukee makes me sick
Run go check yourself for ticks
Y’know that youngest Golden Girl sure looked nice
Then with a tear in his eye
he said I love me some squirrel pie
Now I sure do miss Grandaddy’s advice
When I'm not busy writing modern country classics like "Country Done Come to Town" and "Country Trucker Preacher Man," I'm either drinking myself into a higher state of consciousness or filling up the tank another way. What way, you ask? You see son, artists are like rivers running through the woods. As long as good clean water is flowing in, the river flows smoothly and is perfect for taking a couple of lady friends to play "sink the bobber," errr, I mean go fishing. However, if things get constipated upstream, the river becomes stagnant and smells like ass and taco vomit. In other words, keep your mind active... read books (I like to go with Juggs or Glenn Beck's latest tome), watch movies (Transformers and Sex Toy Story 3 were my latest) and listen to music (CBT, CDB). Good input = staying regular and putting out some gooood shit! That's how the master does it. I'm out.
