"How to ruin a perfect song 101" by Darius "Hootie" Rucker

Dear Darius Rucker,

I have to be honest; I’ve been on to your act for awhile. Listen let’s get real; we all know. Just because you clean up well, drop a few pounds and trade in that 90’s grunge and plaid for some pearl snaps and a cowboy hat doesn’t mean that we all have not forgot who you really are. I remember when the only thing on MTV consisted of Bevis and Butthead (God those were the days) and actual music videos featuring you and your boys formally known as The Blowfish singing about the only one you wanted to be with was me while at the same time running fade patterns in the end zone while Dan Marino rained down dropped touchdown pass after dropped touchdown pass on your part thus defeating the black athlete stereotype.  When Kurt Cobain decided that his facial region was better off resembling a block of Swiss cheese than something that killed 80’s heavy metal I thought you along with the likes of the Gin Blossoms and Blues Traveler would be forgotten forever. Now years later you have reemerged minus the 3 talentless hacks that were keeping you grounded all those years and you have chosen to join the ranks of the genera known as bubble gum country and set your sites on destroying the one song that is sacred to so many of us weather we are humming along to it at 2am at our favorite watering hole or blaring it from the speakers while checking rice on a warm summer night or sashaying a pretty lady across the dance floor in numerous honkytonks across this great nation. Yes Hootie, I am talking about your desecration of the holiest of all songs Wagon Wheel.  Why is it that when someone creates something so perfect that others must try and improve or imitate it? When God created me he didn’t say; “Damn, this Marcus is excellent but what if I made one more for the world to enjoy?”  No he stopped there after experiencing perfection just as you should have the moment it popped into your head that you should pen a remake of the perfect song. Now every time I turn on the radio or try to enjoy myself and relax with an ice cold beer at that little section of heaven known as 5^th and Ivy all I hear is you continue to poison the mass with your train wreck version of the song . If I was to create a drinking game and take a shot when I heard you singing something other than “hold my hand” I would be Paul Zingg’s next example on the horrors of drinking…But wait, maybe if this were to happen he would ban you Hootie from the airwaves. (I may have to take one for the team here).  Hootie, Darius, Mr. Blowfish or whatever you want to go by I am asking you to fade back into retirement or the occasional set at the county fair or local casino before you get the bright idea of covering a George Strait or Garth Brooks original and we really have some problems.  God Bless Old Crow Medicine Show. Amen.

PS. Happy Friday peeps on this start to a hot weekend. Get a beer in the hand and sand in your toes and enjoy it and remember…..Sometimes you just got to poop with the door open

The demise of society according to the bro tank

Dear Bro Tanks,

As graduation took place over the past weekend joy spread throughout the community as numerous young men and women would finally see the fruits of their labor realized and receive that diploma that usually takes 4 years of studying, homework, finals and sacrifice to earn but here in Chico we like to maximize our education and our parents hard earned dollars and stretch it out to 5 or 6 years (what can I say we are overachievers). Never wanting to miss out on a good time or seeing mom, dad and grandpa try Fireball shots and Bank Statements for the first time I threw on my finest weekend attire of cargo shorts, flip flops and embellished in donning yet another quality plaid pearl snap and headed out to participate in the festivities. Having not been out for awhile I was astonished by what I encountered. Now I know an epidemic of epic proportions has been brewing not only Chico but college towns across the nation. It started off slow spotting one or two drunk stumbling through a few choice bars or on a rare occasion you might see a group gathered together trying to see who would buy the next round of their well drink of choice. Now for the first time I could see how out of control this problem has become because before my very eyes I witnessed the invasive species known as you Bro Tank. As I stared horrified in disgust I counted one by one as the different species of you paraded by; fat guy, short guy, old guy, young guy, frat guy, nerd guy, athletic guy, etc. in different shapes and shades of stripes, neon colors and topical sayings all lacking that all important clothing invention known as the sleeve. Not only have you taken fashion back 40 years you have also added cut off jeans and an over sized flat bill ball cap to your ever growing repertoire. It looks like all those hours of watching Jersey Shore, Swamp People, Real Housewives and the Kardashian’s have blended together to make even Christina Aguilera look at you and ask; “What the F are you wearing?”. Listen there is a reason why you went the way of the dinosaur in the late 70’s and early 80’s Bro Tank and it wasn’t because Don Johnson made it fashionable to sport pink t-shirts with white sport coats.  It’s because people realized that if you weren’t on a beach, living in a double wide or our former governor strung out on roids and hippie lettuce pumping iron in Venice you were a mistake to the fashion world just like bell bottoms and tie-dyed. So please I am asking you as a man who has seen baggy jeans to Hawaiian shirts and flipped collars to pegged pants make their way through the closet to finally end it for good and so future generations do not make a hat trick of your mistake.

PS. Happy hump day peeps pay it forward on this short holiday week and remember…..A “dude rider” is a nicer way of calling a lady a whore which might just make her day.

God bless this great nation

Remember....That life is sweet and we  are able to have our cake and eat it too because so many have sacrificed their lives for the good of this great nation.....Merica. 

You need to have your outlets

One of a rice farmer's favorite way to relax on a Sunday....

Thursday night libations make for a better Friday

Dear Thursday night drinking,

Listen I have to tell you something. I remember when you were the coolest cat on the block. I use to get out of class, grab a nap, mix in a shower, toss on some sex panther and head down to farmers market to get a glimpse of the latest in spring eye candy which was usually interrupted by some degenerate teenagers who have life issues at 15 because mommy and daddy failed to hug him or her enough and those same parents feel that downtown and the park are good babysitter for their kids. This led me to one of the many quality and budget friendly drinking establishments in the 4 block radius known as downtown Chico or as I like to call it the Disneyland for adults. Shot, cocktail, shot, cocktail, shot, cocktail, pee (you get what I’m trying to say) was repeated many times along with spitting some of the best game that cheap booze and an imagination will allow (I’m still a lyrical genius at this people) at whatever lovely lady happened to be within shouting distance of me that night only to end up at the frat house by myself passed out  with nachos from Tacos De in my fridge because they are always better in the morning and who doesn’t want their room to smell like Tapitio and Tijuana when they are hung over along  with a slice of pie from Franky’s which is actually quite tasty in the AM but when you ate the cheese and peps off it the night before the piece of triangle shaped bread just isn’t as appealing. Most semesters I had no classes on Friday (work smarter not harder) which made you so tantalizing Thursday. Years later I’m still infatuated with you only now when that whole scenario plays out this thing called work and responsibility are waiting for me the next day with a smile on their face and quick punch to the junk to let me know who is really in charge.  Why is it that you must treat me this way Thursday after all the good times we have had together? Do you and Sunday day drinking get together and scheme with each other on what is the best way to ruin my next day at work? What you need to do is talk to those cool days of the week known as Friday and Saturday that allow me to have fun minus the consequences most times of the year and map out a better game plan for me.  What I’m trying to say Thursday night drinking is that I don’t hate you and we are still friends just not as close as before. Don’t fret though, I’m sure that after a week to think about it we will be right back where we left off….And me cussing you the next day every step of the way.

PS. Happy Friday peeps, it’s that time of year when people walk across the stage to get that hard earned diploma so if you see a grad buy them a drink and if you see their parents buy mom and dad a shot and remember…..If you ever see a cheetah mounting a bull you know a good time is about to happen.

Discrimination and tax codes

Dear IRS,

All hard working Americans know what April 15^th means. It’s that time of year when we are all fleeced of our hard earned money to continue to finance and ever growing and corrupt government.  I mean who doesn’t love it when they open up that paycheck with the thoughts of after paying those monthly bills that you have enough left over to enjoy a night on the town or continue to save and buy that new boat or cabin by the lake you’ve been looking at only to realize that the United States government needs that cash more than you especially if you are 18-45, white, single, male and consider yourself fairly successful. We have all thought and asked ourselves sarcastically, “Why do they target me?” all the while knowing that the folks that we voted into office or the people they appointed to positions that govern society would act in a bipartisan way especially with the current administration in office said no one ever. Outgoing IRS Commissioner Steven Miller and everyone else who had knowledge of or participated in this blatant act of discrimination against the tea party and other conservative groups should be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.  After listening to the current Congressional hearing on this subject I have come to the conclusion that the word “deny” should be banned from a government official’s vernacular. Lois Lerner to invoke your 5^th amendment right was cowardly in nature, if you did actually illegally target certain groups of people for their beliefs than admit to the public of these wrong doings and if you were not directly responsible for them than point Congress in the direction of the perpetrators. Most of us learned these lessons at a young age that if you do something wrong you admit it and not hide in fear of what others might think and why are we all not surprised when barry and his administration denies all knowledge of the targeting of conservative groups in this ever growing scandal. With all the other missteps currently going on in the oval office he probably figured that something so lightly regarded like discrimination would be ignored. Yes, liberals, you know what discrimination is. Remember it’s that card you are constantly pulling when something that is not to your liking is pulled and used against the rest of us. You tell us how wrong we are and that we should be ashamed of ourselves even though the given act has nothing to do with discrimination at all and more to do with common sense. Liberals and Democrats here is your chance to prove us wrong. Make Steven Miller, Lois Lerner and whoever else is responsible for this scandal (please let barry be heavily involved) pay for their crimes and make an example to future people in power that the American people will not tolerate these acts against us.

PS. Happy hump day peeps on this windy day in God’s Country. Hopes it’s a good one and remember…..Don’t die a virgin; terrorists are up there waiting for you. Definitely words to live by.

$550 million dollars will buy hapiness

Dear Power Ball,

$550 million...$550 million say it with me peeps $550 million dollars. At 8pm tomorrow night millions of people will be eagerly waiting for six little balls that moonlight as beer pong essentials to be chosen at random and thus possibly putting one person or a group of people into a higher tax bracket and at the same time changing their minds about taxing the wealthy. The sad truth is disappointment will soon overtake the masses when you come to the realization that this guy holds the golden ticket. Yes you heard that right I have gone and spent my life savings which amounts to a Southwest flight to Los Angeles and a case of tall boys all in the attempt of coming up a winner in the lower socially economic version of the 401K plan. Once I collect my winning which for most of the states playing would be around $275 million dollars but since I reside in the tax unfriendly state of California I will only be walking away with around $200 million and change (Jerry Brown has to build that canal you know). As for all of you sitting there and saying to yourself; “This money won’t change him. He will still be that down to earth kid from the country”…WRONG!!! I have a list of stuff to do that I have been carrying around forever and the only thing that is holding me back is money.  When Monday morning rolls around myself and my closest friends will be boarding a jet (if you don’t live near me don’t fret, we are picking you up along the way) headed to the private island I just bought in the south pacific stocked with endless cases of beer, wine, booze and anything else that your haze wanting mind can think of and if you find yourself hungry at anytime I’m having an In and Out being built at the island as you read this and going to do everything that $200 million dollars can provide you. Along with this and the numerous other purchases that I will be making such as multiple race horses and a share or two of my favorite sports franchises. Please don’t think I’m going to spend it all frivolously and not do something for the good of the world and the environment. I will be doing my part to end global warming.  At the club it’s going to rain. Grocery shopping…It’s going to rain. Between check in’s at bars...It’s going to rain also my first act in giving back to my community with my newfound riches is free umbrellas for my friends and residents of the north state. What I am trying to say is as long as I’m around the weatherman will not talking to you again about drought and a reminder to all the little people out there, yes I will forget about you!

PS. Happy Friday peeps, this farmer just wrapped up planting season so will be looking to enjoy some cold beverages this weekend enjoy yourselves and remember….A good man gets a table, a better man grabs a round.

My continued fascination with Snap Chat

Dear Snap Chat,

Nancy Reagan taught me growing up to just say no to drugs and to reinforce that message she made sure that everyone from my generation is reminded of that whenever they see an egg being fried at Sunday brunch.  After years of heeding her advice and the fear that my father put into me by informing me I would never be president if I did (Clinton, Bush, Barry…you overachievers) I have finally succumbed to the shady world of addiction. First I experimented with the gateway drug known as the camera phone. After enjoying it for a while its effects soon wore off and it took more and more pics of my dog, food, cocktails and random acts of society to satisfy my cravings. This was when I discovered the even more addictive Instagram. One hit of this and all I kept asking for was more to the point that I now have enough material of Cosby’s latest photo shoot at the ranch to fill the next 3 years worth of calendars (and they will be only $19.95 plus tax people, my lifestyle isn’t cheap). My appetite continued to grow for something that would appease my two greatest social media addictions of pictures and the power of text and yes that is when I found you Snap Chat and along with millions of others I cannot get enough of your magic. Here is how most days go for me right now: Sitting on the couch and make a goofy face…Snap Chat. At the ranch throwing a ball to the crazy black guy that calls the back of my pick-up home….Snap Chat. Sitting in a tractor hopped up on Red Bull….Snap Chat.  Ice cold beer and one thumb up…Snap Chat. My primary form of communication has now evolved from face to face conversations to spending hours on the phone to texting like a 14 year old who needs her own reality show to now a snap followed by 28 letters strung together in a sentence that last up to ten seconds or a short video followed by even shorter commentary to get my message across. So please I ask you all as my family and friends that if you ever come across me indulging in this fascination I have of the paparazzi lifestyle followed by me typing away stop me, take my phone away and put a good book in my hand and tell me it will be alright if the world doesn’t know what I had for dinner or what Cosby looks like after the tenth time in the irrigation ditch or why a picture of a Bloody Mary with a thumbs up just isn’t that important to the rest of the world. Sometimes even the best of us need that intervention.

PS. Happy Hump day peeps. Like always KCCO and remember…..You’re bacon because you are delicious.

Role models are still among us

Dear LA Dodger Centerfielder Matt Kemp,

Every morning millions of men and women open up their local newspaper or turn on the computer or mobile device to catch up on the latest in the outlet that we all call sports. In recent years between the standard baseball box scores and current playoff matchups the headlines usually read like something you see in the tabloids while waiting in line at your neighborhood supermarket. For every homerun hit or touchdown scored with a charity event or fundraiser an athlete attends mixed in which usually includes a stipulation he gets paid there are multiple stories of one being pulled over for the 5^th time for drinking and driving or the power forward who thought it was a better financial decision to father ten children with nine girlfriends and one ex-wife than it was to spend the $27.99 on the economy box of rubbers at WalMart that even the college kid making grilled cheese sandwiches with his iron can afford and let me not forget the numerous professionals who decide that the best way to let off steam after a big loss is to use there wives as a sparring partner. Charles Barkley famously said and I quote; “I am not a role model”. At the time that he uttered these famous words sports was my life. Posters of athletes plastered the walls and every sporting magazine was littered throughout my bedroom and my dream was that there was a spot in the NFL for a 5’9” white kid from the country with below average speed who thought beer was a superior substitute to Gatorade as post workout hydration.  My parents instilled in me that just because someone was famous or was on TV it did not constitute them as a role model as Chuck so eloquently stated. The cold truth is that this ideology does not translate to everyone. Kids across the globe look up to professional athletes as the gold stander of what they want to be weather it’s an orphan fighting his way out of the hood and looking for a better life or the child from privilege wanting to impress his parents by taking his own route to fame and fortune they are constantly let down by their heroes day in and day out. On Sunday night I saw something that put my faith back into professional athletes and humanity. To see you Matt Kemp after being swept by your most hated rival who just happens to be the reigning world champion SF Giants on Sunday and a start to the season that would make Tommy Lasorda back away from the pasta you performed a masterpiece by literally disrobing on the field after the final out and giving the clothes off your back and the shoes on your feet to the lone Dodger fan at the park who just happens to be in the final stages of terminal cancer.  This small act of unplanned kindness to a dying boy without cameras and media staged around it brought a tear to this red asses eye and proved that there are much bigger things in life that matter. Matt, you demonstrated that there are still shining examples of sports icons out there for our youth to look up to, so keep up the good work and as your undershirt fluently expressed, beast mode Matt Kemp you gained a fan and are alright by me.

PS. Happy hump day peeps on this gloomy day in God’s Country. Hope the sun hits you and brightens your day at some point. Pay it forward today to someone who least expects it and remember….when a little pretty white girl runs into the arms of a black man you knows something is wrong (thank you Charles Ramsey for that sage advice. Mad props.). 

The roses always smell sweeter in Kentucky

Dear Kentucky Derby,

The arrival of May brings many things with it. Tractors are moving and continuing to kick up an endless trail of dust as fields are being prepared for that healthy goodness that is rice. Trees from almond to walnut to pecans have lost their bloom and a canopy of green engulfs the orchards along with the promise of a heavy set that will bring the assurance of a bright harvest. Long hours are put in this time of year for the men and women who call agriculture there profession.  As the 1^st Saturday in May draws near every year I find my mind wondering from the tasks at hand of my given profession as the smell of roses, sights of beautiful women garnered in big hats and the taste of cool mint juleps coming across my lips constantly dance in my head.  Yes it is you Kentucky Derby along with the sport of horse racing that continues to capture my heart like an inebriated Kate Upton with only bikinis in her closet and a cabinet full of good vodka who just happens to have an infatuation for a certain Northern California rice famer. As a card carrying member of the sport of kings and former thoroughbred owner who is currently looking to add to the portfolio I have found that one of life’s greatest pleasures is a Saturday at the track. From the smell of the barns to the walk to the paddocks and the anticipation of the sound of the starting gun going off few things can compete with the excitement of a race. Now as you once again are upon us for the 139^th time to see what 3 year old has the gusto, speed and power to dominate those 10 furlongs or as the standard measurement system likes to call it 1.25 miles in what is so eloquently understated the “ fastest and most exciting two minutes in sports”.  Churchill Downs you are my holy grail of spots to visit and I know someday soon when this writing thing will actually pay me enough to turn the farming gig into an a long line of expensive hobbies that I indulge in I will be front and center at the track in my finest three piece with a beautiful lady by my side sporting an unparalleled example of a southern milliner’s work with winning betting stubs and cocktails in our hands cheering on a pony that hopefully will capture a nations attention and heart. I tip my cap to the owners, trainers, jockeys and most of all the horses this weekend and here’s to cheering on the underdog because a win at 50-1 buys a lot of rounds for me and that ever growing list of friends…..Let that trumpet play.

PS. Happy Friday peeps, the wind has stopped and for you not lucky enough to be farming the weekend is here. Enjoy yourselves, I know I’m going to try and sneak some much needed fun in at the expense of that overrated thing called sleep and remember…..There is a reason why Marco Polo doesn’t own a pool anymore.

Preferences don't win championships

Dear athletes, famous people, etc. and your sexuality, 

I’ve dedicated this column today to something that I’ve known for a long time but felt that now was the time to let you all know……..I’m straight.  Yes, I have an affinity for gorgeous blonde women with enough sass to keep me guessing and a liver that can keep up with the gold standard that God blessed me with.  Why is it that in this day and age that their needs to be a press conference and a major media blitz on a journeyman NBA 7 footer with a Stanford education because he wants to tell the world that he’s gay? Last time I checked this was not the 1950’s and in a society that’s tolerant when Justin Bieber thinks that Anne Frank would be more interested in him rather than being gassed at Auschwitz does it really matter if Playboy or Playgirl is in your bathroom library? With over 3,946 players combined from the four major North American sports leagues (I threw the NHL in there for you Canada) and the percentage of the gay population in the United States hovering around 25% that means 986 players enjoy Bradley Cooper over Kate Upton.  To break it down for the people out there that did not attend the Harvard of the West that is also known as Chico State there is a 1 in 4 chance that the dude next to you is gay and guess what...He’s the exact same guy that you have trusted to take the last shot, kick that game winning field goal or close out the 9^th inning for you and if I was a professional athlete I would embrace the fact that he lacks the same passion as I do in the opposite sex…So you are telling me that you are rich, dress like you just walked off the rack in something you didn’t buy at Men’s Warehouse and are constantly surrounded by beautiful women at the club that you have absolutely no interest in???...I’m saying give me 10 other teammates just like him. Whether you are straight or gay or like to dress up in furry costumes on first dates it really doesn’t matter to me. As long as you are not a murderer, child molester, thief, liar, out of touch liberal or so far right NASCAR is asking you to mix in a left turn you are ok in my book. I don’t need you to get every news outlet in the country together for a presser for something that has no relevance to the team or our relationship.  Let’s get over the fact of who you chose to love and let’s concentrate on the fact that you’re my friend and teammate and the common goal we all share no matter if it is the sport of football, baseball or the game we call life is winning and more of that and less judging is just fine by me.

PS. Happy hump day peeps, hope you are all having an amazing day and we are that much closer to a weekend. The wind never ceases to stop and that can wreck havoc on this rice farmer’s patience and attitude so if you bump into this or any other’s out there drop a hug on them and a drink if possible and remember…..If Kate Upton burned her bra it would take days to put out.