Day's Darkness

One of the few things I like about having this "secret blog" is that my two sons do not know about it. I can come here and write about them without them knowing it. You may ask, "Why is that important to you, Johnny D?"

Because, there are some things that I just need to get off my chest. They do not need to know everything that I am thinking.

My youngest son is 19. He shows all the hallmarks of a young man trying to find himself. About six months ago it was the Marines. Well, he's had some orthodontic work done, and one result of that work is some metal in his jaw. The Marines required a waiver for that work. My son duly applied and sent in all the required information. No response. I'm not surprised, because as I saw on the news just yesterday - all of the U.S. military branches have exceeded their recruiting goals. Of course they have - the economy is all but destroyed - unless you're a state or federal employee.

Anyhow, as I said, he shows all the signs of a young man trying to find his place in the world. I want to help him, and I told him as much last evening. I said, "Son, you were going to college and didn't like your course of study. Then you tried to get into the Marines. Have you heard anything more from them?"

His reply, "No."

Me, "Are you sure, or are you just embarrassed to say they rejected you because of your dental work?"

Him, "No, Dad, I honestly have not heard one way or the other."

Me, "OK. Well, now you're talking about making Publix a career. What is that all about."

Him, "Well, I work there now, so I just thought...

Me, "Look, I want you to know that no matter what you end up doing, your mother and I are proud of you. You're a fine young man, and you give us no real trouble. Don't be in such a hurry to grow up, son. I know you're 19 now, and you're wanting to find your place in the world, but sometimes it just takes some folks a bit longer. Sure, your mom and I wish you were all fired-up about going to college and scoring some great grades, but we understand where you're coming from. I have always told you that as long as you stay out of trouble, you can stay here at home as long as you like - and I meant that. Don't be in such a hurry to grow up, son. Take as much time as you need."

He thanked me, and said, "I love you, Dad." You know how I replied, "I love you too, son." Those four words he said to me are the best. They really make my day. Yet, I walked away feeling like there was something else I could have said - some thought I could have voiced that would have made him feel better about his place in the world.

As I reflected upon our conversation, I silently cried to myself. There was nothing else left for me to do. I realized, deep in my heart, that I wanted to make the world all good for him, and the deepest part of that realization was that I could not. Ultimately, no man can do anything but his best, and then things must just work out the way they are going to work out.

I have to let him go to the world, but I must tell you - I hate the world we have created for him. It is full of liars, haters, cheaters, rapists, war-mongers, thieves, adulterers, rapists, murderers, and other unsavory characters that care only for themselves and their immediate gratification.

My son is a good young man, and he will have to sacrifice so much to have a better world. It shouldn't be him making the sacrifice. It should be me.

Saving Johnny D.

For those few of you at the Watchdog blog that have taken the time to "preach" to me regarding Christianity and your beliefs, I thank you. Yet, that blog is not the right place for that sort of thing. WD has a specific beef with FBCJ, and he uses his blog to chronicle that beef, as well as to offer and gain support from others of a like mind. If you wish to converse with me regarding your beliefs, then please do so here or through e-mail. It is not right to use WD's blog for what amounts to something that is not really related to the main purpose of his blog.

For the record, I do skim over what you all write there to me, but you must understand I have heard it all before. In fact, I have quite thoroughly studied the issues and verses and thoughts you all have brought up. When you go into preaching mode, my eyes tend to roll back in my head and I drift away. As I said, I have heard it all before. Not only have I heard it, but I believed it. Completely. You must understand that. It really is possible for someone to thoroughly and completely believe something, and then have a change of mind. You did it at least once. At some point you did not believe anything you heard about Jesus, and then at some point you changed your mind and began to believe what other humans were telling you about Jesus. Same with me - only it went both ways for me.

Let me start the discussion this way. Let us say for the sake of this discussion, you have children. Your children bad mouth you and steal your car. They are guilty. You have proof. So, you build a torture chamber in your basement and proceed to torture your children for their disobedience. You tie them up next to a hot fire, and poke them with hot irons - all because they disobeyed you - and you do this for as long as you are alive and able to do so - assuming your children live through all the torture.

I totally reject to the way you have decided to discipline your children, but you reply, "I'm their parent, and I can do whatever I want." To me, you're no different than the person that squashes a lizard just because you can. How is what your God does with eternal punishment in hell any different - with the exception of course that it is forever? How is that moral?

In The Night


Have you ever drifted off to sleep, but not quite fallen away completely?

Sure you have - it happens to all of us at one time or another. It happened to me the other night. As I fell into that zone where I was half-awake and half-asleep I had an idea. At first, it was just the barest kernel of an idea. It was a gold nugget muddied in the stream of sleep. Slowly, the sleep-sand washed away and the idea focused into beautiful clarity.

It was about seeking the truth and reporting what I find right here on my blog. It was all so clear, and so perfect, and so easy to understand. I swore to myself right there in the twilight of my almost-sleep that I'd begin working on this new and exciting project first thing in the morning. I almost snapped on the light to jot down this new crystal-clarity, but I did not.

And then, it was gone. The idea. The clarity. I got up that morning and set to my normal routine with no further thought about the perfect idea for truth-seeking. At some point during the day, I remembered the dream. But the only thing I could draw into focus was how the idea was about truth seeking.

The crystal-clear details, the brilliant gold portion of the idea - all gone. It has not returned either. My last blog - it was a blog that told you of the longing that permeates my being - a yearning for the truth. I told you of how I don't see it much anymore. I see lies everywhere, and for a long time now that has been the case. Lies from local, state and federal politicians are common-place.

We accept lies now as if they are no more important than a tick of the clock. I see lies at work out of coworkers. Lies that directly affect people's lives. I see lies from neighbors as they cheat on their spouses and pursue lifestyles they cannot possibly afford - lying to themselves about their income and their stature and their ability to keep a promise.

I don't know what my idea was in that twilight sleep-zone. It's gone. I can almost reach out and touch it in the dark, but not quite. I hope it returns to me, and that I will be wise enough to snap on the light and jot down the basics of the idea.

At the other end of things, maybe it was all a dream. Wishing for honesty and truth and goodness between us - just a dream - so I suppose it is fitting that this wonderful, bright, beautiful gold-kissed and sun-warmed idea should be just a dream. That must be what happened. There is no idea for the truth, and I lie to myself in thinking so.

I do know that we need a reset. A total, complete reset. Smashmouth has a song, Satellite, I believe. There is a lyric in that song, "You pushed the reset button on the counter of my heart," that sounds sort of silly in this context, but I believe we all need to push that reset button.

Maybe somehow help each other push it.

When in Doubt...

Write! OK, off-track title in a way. I'm not having doubts about anything other than what to blog about. So, I take my own advice and just start writing. Cheesy, headline grabbing title, I know.

Here's something. You have to care enough about me to bother to read what follows. OK, maybe that isn't fair. Maybe I just need to be interesting enough to keep you reading. Let's face it, I might have an engaging personality (arguments - do I hear arguments?) but if what follows this sentence is completely boring, you won't read. I wouldn't either.

No pretending here. I admit to wanting to write something to you - for you. Something beautiful and rich. Something like an elegant bit of music, or a fine tapestry woven with choice cloth. Something with a comforting richness - an orotund gathering of words onto electronic paper that leaves you wanting more.

Yet, all you get is me. Usually. Sometimes?

What - you still here? Good. I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you regular readers. For a person that spends any amount of time writing, it is eminently satisfying to know there are readers reading the words. Thank you.

And now I shall tell you of great and dark secrets. It is why you have stayed this long - yes? You must know what makes the world go round. Why do things happen the way they do? That is what you wish to know. The truth is that nobody knows. Lots of people have opinions about the deeper things, but that is all they are: opinions. They can point to books, but those books were all written by other humans. They can claim those humans were guided by a god or gods, but that is only an opinion. There is no god to question. You must believe. You must have faith. You. It's always the solitary you.

Remember that. And then go and do right because right is right. Thousands of years of living together have given us the knowledge of what is right and wrong. Stealing from your neighbor might be satisfying for you personally, but it fucks up civilization. You don't have to be a scholar to recognize the wisdom in that thinking. Keep stealing and you will be selected out of civilization.

Be a friend because it is right and good - not because you might gain something from the relationship. Again, thousands of years of humans having relationships have shown the rightness in that thinking. Should you choose to be an enemy of all you meet, or an asshole in general, soon you will find yourself naturally selected out of civilization.

And the real truth is that there is only now. You are not guaranteed another minute. There are some that want you to think there is something more. "This can't be all there is, because it is a dark, cold distance in the long black, and the long black can't be all there is. We deserve more." And when you believe there is something more, it makes what you have - especially when all you have is a pile of stinking shit - something to be survived. A future of goodness and golden streets makes all this shit some of us think we suffer with now, worth the struggle. But that's a lie. You only have now. Grab now. Hold it up and examine it like the fine, multi-faceted jewel "the now" is. Breath deeply. Run with it. Don't hold out for a future based on someone's opinion. Because, no matter how they try and sell it to you, that is all it is. Opinion.

Now, I have to go and feed my lizards. You can almost stop reading now.

Some things to think about on a Sunday.

Signs & Omens

In the cool warmth of our sunlit room, my wife and I napped. Actually, she napped, I couldn’t sleep. Outside, the day was drawing to its denouement, but my mind would not rest. Her left arm was near me, and I had placed my cheek there against her upper arm while holding her hand. She breathed softly as she melted into the quiet peace of the late afternoon. I had resolved not to think of anything but the hushed dark of sleep, even so, my thoughts wandered to the deep things. I considered how the day would come when I would no longer be able to do such a simple thing as lie in bed with my wife and feel the peace and comfort of her presence.
I did not think how that day was coming – only that it would come.

Have you ever considered how the moment we’re born we begin to progress upon two paths? We begin to live while simultaneously starting the dying process. I am, and you are too – born to briefly mark an obscure sentence in a short paragraph on one page in the long history of the world. The page is turned – sometimes the page is turned when we’re ready – sometimes not.

My father is living through such things. My mother is entering into the deep-dark of Alzheimer’s. What must it be like to watch the person you have loved for 61 years have her personality – her very essence and understanding of the life she has lived with you – slowly erased? It must be terrifying. It must be a constant reminder of just how fragile and unfair life can so often be.

But that day, in the afternoon sunlight, as I stared at my wife, and then to the wall beyond her to see the leaves dancing in the thin shadows of the sun’s dying light, I knew instinctively that this was a time to treasure – a time to let sink deep into the best part of my memory.

Resting there on her arm, I could see the day when one of us would be gone. When there would be no more times to rest together. I could see the night when all that is left is memories, and the shadows having their way on the walls will be nothing more than the half-moon reflecting branches gone dead for the winter.

My Perspective

Because of some things I have said recently, a few of you have asked, "What happened, Johnny? Why did you leave Christianity and the church?"

The answers, not surprisingly, are difficult to explore, and somewhat complicated in and of themselves. Nevertheless, I shall try and bring satisfaction - once and for all - to those enquiring minds that wish to know the truth.

And to be honest, I do so only because, once and for all, I wish to arrow this matter into the bull’s-eye. Let us face the subject squarely: it's not like this is anyone's business. With that point illuminated, I must note that for those that I led to Christianity, I do believe I owe you an explanation. I'm not exactly sure why, but I do feel that some sort of elucidation should be extended to at least a few of you. Let us get on with the paying and cleansing.

2001. Roughly. You may consider 9-11, but 9-11 was only a small bit of the catalyst. There were many other things that figured into the mix. I don't have a Bible in front of me, nor do I feel like getting up and searching one out. As such, I'm going to ask the reader to trust me. I know the Bible fairly well, and I can tell you that if I say a matter can be found in the Scripture, I assure you this much: the matter exists. Having been misled by charlatans and wolves in sheep's clothing, I give you my word that I would never pay that forward.

I wish I could remember exactly what set me to drifting, but I cannot, and I will not lie about the matter. One incident that immediately comes to mind, and this is sad to say because of the implications, but I remember an interview I did with the elders of the church I last regularly attended. You see, I felt sure that I had been called into being a pastor. I told my pastor of this, and he suggested I meet with the elders. We met in the private home of one well-to-do elder (they were all well-to-do, and no matter what one may counter with, I believe in that church, wealth was a prerequisite to holding the elder position). There were 5 men present – the pastor, three elders, and yours truly. Difficult, probing questions were asked of me - questions that now, for the most part, escape my memory. There was one question I shall never forget, and it came from a lawyer. He asked me with a voice-tonal quality I would call disdain, if not outright disgust, "Have you ever been arrested?" Not an inappropriate question to be sure, but this man, as noted, a lawyer by trade, seemed to have absolutely no feeling for me, or the circumstances I found myself in during this inquisition.

The answer, by the way, was, and still is: no. I have never been arrested. Close? Yep, but I have never, as an inmate in any case, darkened the door of any jail. The deeper truth here is that it was the questioner’s body language, past history with me, his clearly evident condescension – the man the elder – a man I’d tried to get to know. I had tried to understand his perspective on life, but let us face it: I was, back in those days, an aircraft maintenance guy, and he was a lawyer – a well-to-do lawyer. To me, it was obvious he recognized and cultivated a self-imposed social barrier. Honestly, I mean nothing against this man. He was, no doubt, doing what he does best, and I could have misinterpreted his tone of voice and his mannerisms. It is also quite possible that I could have done more to get to know this guy. Whatever the case may be, the force of the moment is now lost in time’s great and long list of misplaced opportunities for understanding and mutual edification.

But this situation and this man were a turn-off for me. I walked away from that meeting confused. I was sure I’d felt God’s call into the ministry, but after the meeting, I was sure it was all a huge mistake on my part. Me – so in tune with God and His will – or so I thought – left the meeting with confusion as to God’s intentions regarding what I felt was a sure call upon my life.

I warned you about this blog. It is difficult to construct. Tortuous even – more so in the reading for some of you that care about me.

I remember when I finally decided I did not believe anymore. One night sleepless and distraught for many hours, and this is hard for me to admit openly and publicly like this, I tossed and turned and I sobbed into my pillow. I cried over the loss of God’s personal closeness. To me, it felt like my best friend had passed away, and no matter how much I prayed and tried to make my friend come back and connect with that part of me that I thought knew Him so well, I felt nothing. I felt as if God’s Holy Spirit had left me. I did not leave. I tell you the truth when I say I did not want to go, and I did not want God to go.

By now, I am sure you have sensed the disorganized nature of this blog. This sort of writing is all feelings. Feelings rarely come out in a logical, controlled, rational manner. For those of you that have stuck with me this long, I can only apologize while begging your indulgence, for more disorganization is sure to appear below.

I sat in church one Sunday and considered how if every person in attendance there that day, how if for the next year, all present plucked not one eyebrow hair, not one nostril hair, not one ear hair, shaved or groomed no part of their body – what would we see at year’s end upon gathering back at the church? Use your imagination. It is safe to say you’d see humans resembling apes appareled in Sunday finery. Such musings may seem silly and inconsequential, but I invite you to think deeply about the matter. Our ancestors discovered grooming many centuries ago, and as such, we have lost touch with our ancient roots. Such thoughts led me to deeper investigations into natural selection and evolution.

Science is your friend. Consider this: if tomorrow, you woke up to find the mass media trumpeting, “Scientists Find Irrefutable Evidence That Jesus Christ is God,” every Christian would be heralding the efficacy and fineness of science. Science and scientists would be, suddenly, incapable of committing any sort of error. To be fair, most of us want to use and trust science, but only when it does not threaten our beliefs. It is safe to say that religious people of every sort and variety very strongly believe in science when their children are sick and require something as ubiquitous as an antibiotic. Certainly, at that time, we all hope science has done its homework regarding the adaption and evolution of the organism the medicine is meant to kill. Certainly, it is then that each of us hopes the prescribing doctor (a scientist of sorts) has done his or her level-best to use the tools of science to correctly and efficiently make a diagnosis and prescription.

Pardon me that digression. It is not my wish here in this blog to begin an argument with Christians or believers of any stripe or sort. I am trying to tell my story – as disjointed and leaded with feelings as it is – I do find it hard to keep the arrow flying straight to the target.

Mostly though, it was people. Christians are promised power. They are promised real, genuine power. The source of that power, if one is to believe the Bible, is God’s Holy Spirit. The God of the Bible is said to be, among other descriptive adjectives, “omnipotent,” or, as we say here in America, “All-powerful.” The New Testament, in various places, but specifically in the book of Acts, tells the early church how they shall receive God’s power when the Holy Spirit comes “upon you.” In the original Greek manuscript, the word the writer of Acts selected is “dunamis.” Dunamis is ancient Greek for “power.” In our day and age, modern English has evolved from this ancient Greek root word our English words, “dynamic” and “dynamite.” According to this Scripture, Christians should be something not unlike dynamite in their power. Keep in mind that in order to become a Christian, one must say some words and believe some facts. At that decision point, it is said that God’s all-powerful Holy Spirit has come upon the believer. I saw no evidence of such a thing. What I did see in the church and among Christians was something akin to a social club. Don’t believe me? If you’re in business for yourself, put a cross and a snappy Bible verse on your business card. You will, I promise you, get an increase in the number of inquiries from Christians. But, that is merely a side point. In the Christian social club, I saw no real evidence of this power of God. Remember, Christians should be something like literal dynamite. That sort of power, one would think, should preclude “sinning.” It did not. I witnessed (and still witness) petty jealousies, affairs, greed, lying, indifferent consignment to hell of unbelievers and other gross negligence and inconsiderations that should have no place among any decent and moral people – let alone a people whose main claim-to-fame is one of how an all-powerful God has implanted them with his “dynamite” Spirit.

Now, I can tell you here how dedicated and committed Christians will answer the claims I have made above – claims that are to me a devastating and damning charge against their belief system. They will say, “Johnny, you’re looking at the sins of humans and blaming God.” Damn straight. Remember, this Spirit these Christians are said to have in-dwelling them is said to be all-powerful, or as the Scripture says, “dunamis.” By definition, what can be more powerful than an omnipotent God? Yet, somehow, we are to believe this power is only as good as the person harboring it. If so, what good is it?

For now, I will stop here. I have told only part of the story. There is more. I intend to tell it, but for the present time, I have said enough. Let me close by saying to my Christian friends that I harbor no hatred or disrespect for you. I wish each of you nothing but the best, and I do hope that one day each of you will realize how exclusive your religion is, and how the exclusivity of all religions (as practiced by their true-believers) will most likely lead to the destruction of this planet.

Maybe I'll come by here more often. I've been spending a lot of time reading the FBC Jax Watchdog blog. I like this guy, Tom Rich. He's got balls. I like people that stand up for what they believe in - no matter the consequences.

I don't know though. I mean, I've got facebook and MySpace, and my own personal website. If I start regularly blogging here, it's just one more headache and one more link to share. I do like this site's editing tools though. Facebook's completely suck. MySpace has gotten better. So, we'll see. Maybe I'll blog here more often, maybe not.

For those of you coming here from the FBC Jax Watchdog site, I am not a Christian. I was, and I was very sincere about the matter. In fact, in an effort to become a pastor, I attended two years of Bible College. I dropped the whole matter when I realized that Christians sin more, or just as much, as lost people. If Christians have any claim to make, it would be the claim that God's Holy Spirit indwells each believer once the person believes and accepts Christ's death for his/her sins, as well as His resurrection from the dead. I saw almost no evidence of that indwelling power, and in fact, saw pretty much the opposite. For the most part, church is a social club - complete with income level comparison, clothing comparison, and other such bullshit criteria.

Show me a church like the one in the first few chapters of Acts, and I'll consider returning, but I can tell you for a fact, there is no such church in Jacksonville, Florida.

Johnny the Christian Metal Show Producer/Promoter? Huh?

Some of you may know how that at one time, I was a Christian, and that I was very active in the faith. For those of you that did not know that: Surprise! One of the things I did back in those days was promote Christian rock concerts. It was a good time, and I got to meet some pretty cool people. I also got to meet some real assholes too. You should never confuse Christianity with thinking that those claiming the title will not be assholes. I discovered that disturbing fact early on in the game, and it was one of the many things that eventually drove me from the faith.

There was this one band that was enjoying quite a bit of success at the time (1993 or so), and I contracted with them to come to Jacksonville. Keep in mind this was many years ago, so details are fuzzy now, and I do not wish to name names, so you’ll have to use your imagination. But before I tell you the tale of this band’s visit, let us look at what it takes to produce and promote a rock concert.

Putting on a rock concert is no easy feat. There are many things to arrange. First and foremost is money – the financing. Then there is the no small matter of securing a venue (place to have the concert). Then there are security arrangements to be made at the venue. Let me see if I can remember some more particulars of concert promoting. What follows will be a jumbled list as it comes to memory. There’s advertising (not cheap at all), there is flyer printing and distribution, ticket printing and distribution to places that are willing to sell tickets (and put up flyers), and there is the no small matter of a sound system and lights. Both sound and lights are critical, and both can be a pain in the ass to arrange. Bands, in their contract, will tell you what they expect you to provide. Each band has different criteria for sound and lights. Some provide sound and lights, but most in the small-market Christian metal/rock scene did not.

And let me not forget the food and hotels and dressing rooms. Bands rightly have a need for a place to stay the night, for food to eat, and for a place at the venue to dress and eat and use the bathroom, etc. On the day of the show, in their contracts they ask for such things at the venue like food, towels, chairs, tables, bottles of certain kinds of water and drinks, deli-trays, fruits, Gatorade, tables and chairs strategically positioned so they can sell T-shirts, compact discs, buttons, posters, hats, on and on, ad-infinitum.

I have really just scratched the surface with the above, but as you can see, it is challenging to say the least to put on a successful rock concert. And one should not misconstrue what I am saying. Bands have a right to ask for a professional production, and a producer/promoter reads and signs a contract stating that he/she/they understand the band’s needs and desires for anything and everything in relation to the show as laid out in the contract. Those of you that know me, know I take giving my word pretty damn seriously, so when I signed a contract with a band, I tried as much as humanly possible to meet the criteria set out in the contract. If something was just not doable, I made sure the band understood that up front.

So, back to the band that I brought here back in 1993 or so. The band’s leader and singer, I shall call him “John” turned out to be a total asshole. Sadly, I did not know this until he arrived. While arranging the concert, I was dealing with one of his underlings, so I never had any interaction with John until the band’s arrival – just hours before the show. He started on his journey to assholeism right away by complaining about the directions I had sent them. Those directions consisted of a map with a highlighted route (if memory serves, I think they drove in from Tennessee) and written directions. Remember, this was in the days before Mapquest. He complained, loudly, that the directions were almost useless. Somehow, due to his superior intellect, they had found their way to the venue.

The next big issue was the opening act. Keep in mind, dear reader, that this was all arranged beforehand through his underling. All parties had signed a contract. The problem? John did not want the opening act using the same sound system that his band would be using. John’s band, in this particular rare instance, had arranged for a sound system to be brought into the venue. Nothing was ever said about John’s band being the only act allowed to use the sound system. So, John, being the major asshole he turned out to be, insisted the opening act (who were friends of mine and major helpers in the production of the show) not be allowed to play. John said, “If they play, we will not play. We will leave.”

What would you do? Sounds simple enough on the surface, doesn’t it? You’re thinking I should have just said, “Well then, ASSHOLE, leave!” But, when you have people lining up outside to get into the show – people that have paid their hard-earned cash for a ticket to see this band – the decision is not so easy.

I was completely disappointed. I was hurt. I could not believe this guy was acting the way he was. He was totally unreasonable. I took a few moments to myself away from everybody, and after some thought, the decision was easy. I went to John and told him to leave. “Go. I’m not going to throw my friends under the bus for you. They have been major players in making this happen, and if the choice is between you staying and them not playing, you’re going. I’ll refund the money to each person that walks in the door and says they don’t want to stay because you guys have left.”

He replied, “We’re staying. I said they could play.” Apparently, while I had taken some time alone to make my decision, John and the opening act had come to an agreement. The opening act had agreed to use the house sound system, not the much better sound system John’s band had arranged to have brought in.

So, the show happened. I wish I could tell you that a few thousand people showed up, but it was more like a few hundred. Surprised? Actually, for a Christian hard rock/metal show, that is a pretty good crowd.

The agreement with John’s band was that they would be paid what was taken in at the gate, but no more than $2000. Any money over and above that would be mine – and it was money I needed to pay back to myself for the money I had sunk into the show. Well, as it happened, we made around $1950 at the gate. Stupid, dumb, ignorant, “We’re all Christians and love each other!” me. I was so happy that we’d almost made $2000. I was wishing we had made more, and that I could have paid myself back, but I didn’t do the show (or any show) for that reason. I did it because I wanted to reach young people with the gospel of Jesus Christ. With excitement and gladness of heart, I presented the money to John saying something like, “Well, we almost got to $2000! We’re just shy of that.” I then handed over the paper sack with the money in it. John opened the sack, took out the money, and sat down and started counting. He agreed with my count, and then, much to my shock, asked for the ticket stubs. He wanted to count the torn stubs to make sure I wasn’t holding out on him. And he did. He sat there and counted each stub. Finally, the night ended, and John and his band left for the very nice hotel I had paid for out of my own pocket.

Over the next several years, in spite of that early-on bad experience, I promoted several successful shows. I can’t even remember some of the names now. The last show I did was in 2000. This band I will name, because they were very decent humans. Yes, the guys in Tourniquet were a pleasure to be around. The band is still around too. Back around 2002 or so, their record label rereleased some of their earlier out of print stuff, and on those rereleases are live recordings of the Tourniquet concert I produced and promoted here in Jacksonville at the Murray Hill Theater.

So, while that’s only part of the concert promoter/producer story, the above should give you a glimpse into a part of my life that was fairly interesting and exciting.
Thanks for reading.