ItsOnlyBob

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Fart Confessions

March 30, 2017

Several years ago, Linda and I were in a store at the mall when I let out an SBD. Holy Jesus. Easily the most foul-smelling atrocity I've ever committed. It was so horrid, I couldn't bear to own up to it—even to my spouse, who is well acquainted with the weapons-grade exhaust our two sons and I can produce. But I could hardly pretend we weren’t suddenly standing in a cloying mist of wretched gloom and rotting vegetation, so I faux-innocently darted a few judgy glances at nearby customers. At the very least, I figured a funk so thick and vile must have staying power and long-range mobility, so I could plausibly deflect my guilt if Linda should accuse me: Aw, c’mon, sweetie, that one coulda floated in from the food court! Well. Linda didn't say anything … but she did indeed react. I could practically see the waft as it traveled up her nostrils. Her nose twitched, and then she winced. That was it—but it was priceless. Mercifully, her eyes betrayed no accusation,

January 21, 2017

President Trump: I believe America is already great. But man, it was hard to listen to your inaugural speech—to your bleak, desolate view of where we are at this moment in our history—and not to wonder what kind of lenses my world-vision glasses must be missing. I believe America has always been great, even in its darkest moments. I believe America’s greatness lies in the slow but sure admission of its inherent weaknesses and injustices, and in its determination to fix them, even in the face of crippling internal opposition. I believe America’s greatness lies in embracing its diversity—in welcoming the best aspects of every culture in our celebrated Melting Pot, not just those that trace back to the comfortable but outdated pages of the history books we studied in the '50s and ‘60s. I believe America’s greatness lies in its ability to distinguish between the loving, inclusive, peaceful beliefs of any religion, and the fearful, violent delusions of psychopaths

Oh, Say, Can You Boom-Crash

September 05, 2016

September 5, 2016 Weather permitting, my beloved Florida State University Marching Chiefs will rehearse this afternoon at Oak Ridge High School in Orlando before heading to Generic Corporate Overlord Stadium for the Seminoles' season opener against Ole Miss at 8 pm. My first band directing job out of FSU was at Oak Ridge. And our band’s first performance, on September 11, 1987, was one for the ages, thanks to my intrepid students and their unflappable drum major, Amy Booth—and a pants-wettingly fabulous cameo from Mother Nature. Oak Ridge opened its football season at home against Dr. Phillips High School, which had just opened its doors and was instantly Oak Ridge’s biggest rival, since many former ORHS Pioneers were now newly minted DPHS Panthers. The skies had been overcast all day, but the rain had held off … until the Pioneer Marching Band took the field for pregame. Just as Amy started the National Anthem, the rain came. By the second line, “Whose broad

Chewie, We're Getting the Band Back Together!

December 29, 2015

My Review of Star Wars 7: The Search for Luke (mild spoilers) * Reboots! Reprises! Do-overs! Homage a trois! * Drunk Nekkid Vegas Weekend Spawn of George Clooney and Erik Estrada! * DNVWS of forgotten Backstreet Boy and Severus Snape! * DNVWS of Yoda and Sy Snootles! (^ Okay, I dunno about that one. Somewhere. Probably.) * Andy Serkis in mega-budget deleted scenes from "The Wizard of Oz"! * Winner of the "We Need a Young R2D2" casting call! * Sly reference to trash compactors! * More chuckly inside jokes! * Renewed non-ironic misuse of "parsecs" to stoke astronomy grammar nerd outrage! * More Joe Schmo-looking X-wing fighter pilots for the Resistance! (^ Wouldn't have been suprised to see Randy Quaid.) * Desert planet that isn't Tatooine! * Ice planet that isn't Hoth! * Green planet that isn't Endor! (^ Yay, no Ewoks!) * Less interplanetary politics, more intrafamily shenanigans! * Better script! Better back stories! Better dialog!

40 Thoughts I Had While Driving 30 Miles In 150 Minutes

November 25, 2014

1. If 30 miles is how much I hate this commute, then 150 minutes is how glad I am that I don't do this commute regularly anymore. 2. If 30 miles is how glad I am that I don't do this commute regularly anymore, then 150 minutes is how much I love visiting Bolling Air Force Base and hearing the Air Force Band play stuff I wrote for them. 3. None of which alters the fact that I gotta pee. 4. Like, bad. 5. But yes, I really DO love hearing the Air Force Band play stuff I wrote for them. 6. By the way, you should plan to visit the Udvar-Hazy Center in Chantilly VA (the "companion facility" of the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum in Washington DC) this coming Tuesday at noon. 7. No, really, you should! Just sayin'. 8. Sequels might be like, y'know, "Jaws II" - but then again, they might be like "The Godfather II," in which Al Pacino plays a killer English horn and Robert DeNiro beats the holy snot out of a bass drum. 9. We, as a s

Just Stop Already

August 26, 2014

As of today, I've been putting off my next cigarette for 19 years. I don't intend for there to be a next one, but I've torched that intention three times before, so I distrust the word "quit." I was a pack-a-day smoker by the time I was in high school, having started when I was 9. (Yes, you read that right.) There were those three smoke-free periods — a year when I was 20, three years starting at age 26, seven weeks at age 34. Each time I stopped — including the current 19-year-stretch — it was cold turkey. I know others who have done it with gum, or a patch, or e-cigs, or whatever. The method is less important than the simple determination to stop. At any rate, I had smoked for more than 20 years out of 25. Several times in the six years I've been on Facebook, I've commemorated this day publicly with a "yay me" post. This time, instead, I'm thinking about my mom, who stopped smoking around the same time I did. My siblings and I — for

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