The songs range from extremely funny ones to boo-hoo lyrics and melodies. I write about what I feel, and record it like I think it should be done. Much of the music is "kitchen" music because many of the songs were recorded in and around that heart-warming place where meals are prepared and, afterwards, I wash the dishes. My wife believes in and practices equal opportunity within the confines of our home. Now and then I rebel against this obvious ploy to rob my manhood. However, one whop up 'side my head with a cooking pot or pan is all it takes for her to show me, once again, the error of my ways.
Usually, my recording friends and I insure ample amounts of "Janice Joplin Juice" (Southern Comfort) are close at hand. Nothing like a snort or two, now and then, to loosen up vocal cords; providing a catalyst for the creation and melodic flow of words and ideas toward the birth of, or improvement, of a new song. Though not in his class, I've been a John Prine fan for years. I marvel at his talent and fan base, which is solidly behind this definitely independent song-writing, artistic soul. I've attempted to provide him some of my material, to no avail. I think I might have some songs that would be of interest to him, such as my "Stone-Drunk, Busted, Madder than Hell, and Looking for Trouble Tonight!" Or, he might take a liking to my "She Didn't Cry When I Told Her I Was Leaving (Most girls would if they lost a stud like me.)" Or, how 'bout "She Touched My Butt (must've known that my life was in a rut.)" If neither of those, how 'bout, "She took my dawg, won't give him back, and the keys to my ol' Cadillac?"
If those don't move ya, then I know my song about "The Party" should rope you in. For instance, imagine yourself in a bar observing a make-believe cowboy with his hat cocked back on his head. Backed against the bar, his elbows resting on top of it, he scans split-tails in hopes of cutting out a little filly. You snicker as you notice his shirt opened at the top allowing potential companions to view a few sprigs of chest hair. Through the front door strolls this good-looking heifer who stops just inside the entryway and slowly gazes about the room for Mr. Right. Their eyes meet and, to his delighted surprise, she crosses the room with her eyes locked on his. To hear the outcome of this story, you'll just hafta' listen to the song, which you will find on my www.eggsproductions.com web site. Enjoy!
But that's another story. Likewise, I've attempted to get material into Jimmy Buffett, without success. Failed efforts to contact Jimmy were disappointing in that I attended a college in Poplarville, Mississippi, (PRC) of which Jimmy also attended. Oh well, such is life. Jimmy talks about PRC (now PRCC) in the "Mississippi Hippy" prologue to his book, A Pirate Looks at Fifty.
Lately, I've attempted getting two serious songs to Alan Jackson. One is a Mothers' Day song I named "Not Long Ago," and another is a great song about Georgia entitled "Without a Care." Another of my songs should be recorded because it addresses the senseless killing worldwide by terrorists and genocidal groups. The song, I named "When?," asks, "When will the killing ever end and we begin living like the scriptures say we should? When will the killing ever end? When can the children play their games, and not be maimed, by those who claim to be their masters? They rob, they slaughter, and they shame their God above from whence they came. 'Til then, I guess we'll never see what God intended us to be. When will the killing ever end? When will the killing ever end?"
As mentioned above, the sayings might simply be a meaningful quote I wish to share with you. Or I might have something weighing heavily upon my heart or mind which I vent thru this site.
The series of short stories cover a wide range of topics from young men and women in a segregated school who are in love, in heat, in despair, or in disgust of what is happening in their towns, their country, and in their lives; especially in their love lives. Typical teens! Some vent on a rape and the vigilante actions resulting in the removal from jail and dismembering of the black man accused of that rape of a white woman in front of her young daughter; the beginnings of the civil rights drive that ripped the nation apart, causing so much hate and ill feeling due to the simple request blacks had for equal treatment in this land of the free; and the power of words such as “If not now, when?” had upon some of these white college students. The overall theme of these stories is to “never give up!” Some stories zoom in on a gifted young man who dared reach for his seemingly impossible brass ring: An engineering degree from Georgia Tech. He succeeded and, in 1986, gave the commencement speech to Harvard Business School graduates. Not bad for a young man whose hardworking, Irish-Catholic parents issued life to one daughter and eight sons. (By the way, he completed his PhD Chemical Engineering degree requirements in record time. I recently heard in 2004 that his record still stands at that highly regarded engineering school. America could stand more parents like the Malones; especially today when far too many children are neglected during the critical formative years of their lives.)
Another classification of the stories could be likened to a poor man’s version of Animal House in that they cover daily hilarious antics of young men living in a small college football dormitory. And the stories definitely have close kinship to H. G. "Buzz" Bissinger's best-selling book "Friday Night Lights." You might recall that a movie was made of that book, which focused on a high school football team in Odessa, Texas.
Many of the stories revolve around Coach T.D.(Dobie) Holden, a southern coach, educator, and motivator who had a positive impact upon the lives of many young men whom he coached upon the football fields at Pearl River College (PRC), which is located beside US highway 11 at Poplarville, Mississippi. However, the school is now named Pearl River Community College (PRCC), and the web site is www.prcc.edu .