Health Alliance for Austin Musicians Needs Our Help

Sometimes psycho therapy is just too much for me. The last thirty years of my therapy have been one of those, “Take one step forward, get back on the horse and tell me how you feel,” kinds of dealies. I know I’m getting better I just hope I don’t die before I feel better.

Actually, I sometimes want to kill myself because of the therapy.

So. I’m in session this morning and Dr. Sam I. Am-Johnson- that’s my psycho therapist, first ex-wife and third biggest pain in my ass. Of course Gram is first-in-line on the ass-pain list followed closely by Dixie, and then Sammie. I’m doing twice-daily sessions five days weekly right now because I keep getting arrested so often.

Usually my arrests are not my fault but sometimes they are, and this I know with absolute certainty. OK, this I certainly know until I’m in the first therapy session after an arrest. Usually these sessions occur to the jail or the Loonie Bin where I typically spend my arrested times. I’m certain that not all of my arrests are my fault until my therapist convinces me otherwise.

Like this morning.

Today’s therapy business was after Pat the plumber from Pat’s Plumbing Company came over to change the leaky kitchen faucet out to the ranch. Pat had told me I shouldn’t have gotten the Moen fixture when he installed it just a few month’s ago. Something about a vacuum valve that leaks after a short time. What Pat actually said was, “Thanks for the work Mooner. I’ll be seeing you again soon when the vacuum valve goes out on this thing and it floods your kitchen.”

I like Pat because he does good work, has fair pricing and he doesn’t say, “I told you so.” I hate when somebody does that nanny-nanny-boo-boo crap. You can get Pat at www.pattheplumber.netfor just about any plumbing need. Tell him Mooner said to call. He won’t give either of us anything if you mention me, but at least he’ll know I appreciate him.

“Mooner, would you look at me when I’m speaking to you?” starts ex-wife-therapist-ass pain Dr. Sam I. Am. ”What part of, ‘I had to race home from my European vacation early because you were arrested for sexually abusing my dog,’ sounds like this is somebody else’s fault to you?”

If you are a regular reader, you know that I was accidentally arrested the other day but is was not my fault. Check out Wednesday’s bloggie post and you can read all about my innocence.

“Oh shitcicles, Sammy. I never touched the Squirt’s goodies. I was just doing a scientific observation. It was the ‘close-in first-person observational technique’ I was using, so my guess is that old lady just has bad eyesight.”

“That ‘old lady’ you are talking about is one of my patients, Mooner, you nut-case. She and Squirt are good friends. You scared her to death.”

Dr. Sam I. Am sometimes uses Squirt like a sort of prop when she has especially frail-brained patients. For some reason having that little shitbird in the room for psycho therapy helps some people relax. As far as I’m concerned, if you need a trouble-making mutt in your therapy sessions to make improvement- you should can the psycho therapy and get drunk instead. You’d get better bang for your buck.

It doesn’t really work for me to get drunk instead of therapy because I am not frail-brained. Nope, in fact my diagnosis reads, “Subject Mooner Einstein Johnson is….. fat brained, thick skulled, inappropriate and blah, blah, blah.” However, a dozen cold Carta Blanca beers do help me to assimilate what information the brain doctoring provides.

“But I still don’t get why this is all my fault,” I whined. “Why is everything always my fault?”

I feared I said that like a petulant child.

“Oh stop acting like a 4-year old you crazy old fart. Act your age and take responsibility for your actions. I have a homework assignment for you and if you screw it up- I’m locking you up at Shoal Creek.”

Then Sammy added, “Mooner, are you paying attention to me?”

“Who me?” I asked. “I was just wondering if Dixie taught Squirt how to dribble one little pee drop like she does. That would be just like Dixie.”

My damned talking dog is a pain in the ass.

“Look, here’s what you are going to do. I want you to choose another charity to sponsor on your website and blog. Just decide which one it will be and do it. Do something for someone else and you will feel better about yourself, which might help you stay out of trouble.”

And then she added, “And don’t you dare call the charity to see if they will help you do any marketing of your silly books and products. You need to make a true and charitable deed for others if you want this to work. Don’t try to link with their website or ask them to have a book signing for you.”

Why do women always have to “add something” when they lecture?

“Bite me and bill me. I’m tired of you and I am outta here.” Sometimes I am truly clever.

“And keep your nose out of my dog’s ass, Mooner. I mean it.”

So when I got out to the compost plant I got to thinking about what charity I like enough to put on an even keel with the Food Bank. I was cogitating around and remembered telling you guys about my friend Sally. You know Sally, right? I think I told you about her back on like March 16th, or so.

Sally is the musician who was attacked by her ungrateful heart and almost put down for the count. Sally has a big heart and it nearly got the best of her. And I think I was talking about Sally because I was talking about the health care debate and how lucky Sally is to be covered by the Health Alliance for Austin Musicians, or HAAM.

These are really great people doing good things to help support our city’s artists in a very meaningful way.

So, I called over to HAAM and spoke with Carolyn- she’s the main poobah over to the Alliance, to see what kind of arrangements we might make for some joint marketing. You know, the cross-pollinating that occurs when two groups promote each other. I already knew that HAAM would be more than reluctant to do this but I had to ask.

Of course Carolyn explained that HAAM protects its “Brand” like a mother lion protects her cubs, and that linking to my webbie or to hold a book signing for me would be problematic, of course. But I had to ask. I’m a businessman for shitsakes, so I had to ask.

So I tell Carolyn- just as I told the nice folks over to the Capital Area Food Bank, that I’m going to contribute 5% of the gross sales from anything sold here to my webber and bloggie to HAAM even if they won’t tie themselves to my stuff. That’s just the kind of guy I am.

I understand why people don’t want to be too closely tied to me. This one time, when she and I were still married, Ingrid and I were role playing in the conjugal bed. Actually we were role playing in the conjugal kitchen, where I was doing an ass show I titled, “Julia Childs cooked my Christmas goose.” Ingrid had dyed and shaved my butt hairs to look like a Christmas goose’s cooked carcass, and we had adorned my pecker to be its neck, and head. Had a pretty bow draped around the goose’s neck, and the eyes and beak were made from plastic containers we melted down and molded to fit.

I made a handsome Christmas goose, all plucked and browned and dressed, and Ingrid looked mighty fine in her apron.

Part of the scenario was to have Ingrid, in the role of Julia Childs, truss my goose for the cooking. Ingrid was trussing herself to me with handcuffs and those plastic retainer jobbies the police use instead of handcuffs. We were trying the plastic restraints for the first time because we kept misplacing the keys to the cuffs and getting into embarrassing situations.

Anyway, just about the time we’re fully invested into our role-playing scenario- you know, the spot where Ingrid says, “Bon Apatit,” Sheriff Wozniac breaks down the door and barges in to arrest me, again. Seems it was reported that a man matching my description had mooned the Governor’s motorcade down to Congress Avenue earlier that day and the little shitbrain politico had sworn out a warrant.

Fucking Republicans do not have any sense as to what humor truly is.

Wait. Ingrid is another of my ex-wives and owner of Ingrid’s Hot Wax Emporium. She plucks, and waxes, polishes and dyes my butt and pubic hair for my moon shows.

But look here because my ADD is digressing me to distractions. Click here to www.healthallianceforaustinmusicians.org and give Carolyn or Jennifer a shout.

And a check.

Maybe if you guys donate enough money I can get a mention over to HAAM.

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6 Responses to “Health Alliance for Austin Musicians Needs Our Help”

  1. Mary says:

    Plumbing is paid by the job, not by the hour. The flat rate price you are quoted at the beginning of the job is the price you pay at the end of the job! All of our plumbing technicians are drug screened and receive thorough background checks for your safety.

  2. admin says:

    Thanks Mary.

    Pat, my plumber, seems happy to work in whichever manner you want. But choosing and negotiating with service providers can be a real job. I hope you can help some readers.

  3. I was just having a conversation over this I am glad I came across this it cleared some of the questions I had.

  4. admin says:

    Thanks Elizbeth.

    May I use your name when I tell my psycho therapist that I cleared something up for someone? She keeps telling me that I only, “Muddy the waters.” But my therapist is a bitch. I love her in spite of that fact.

  5. Leah says:

    The Austin plumbing industry is an integral part of society, which helps in the proper supply of drinking water and the transportation of sewage.

  6. admin says:

    Thank you Leah.

    How right you are. People do not have enough respect for the important role plumbers play in our life. Our clean drinking water and safe sanitary disposal infrastructures are the true difference between our country and most others.

    I will pop the top on a cold Carta Blanca and toast our brave plumbers. Salud!

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