Tim McGraw is a Foreign Country Singer (Summer of Country Music – Part 2)

It was a strange circumstance indeed for me to attend a Tim McGraw concert, more uncommon than watching a Quick Draw McGraw marathon on Cartoon Network.  But I had purchased an expensive ticket for my daughter and when she couldn’t go, I had to extrude as much value out of this audacious purchase as I could, being the cheap bastard that I am.

The ticket, by the way, costed $230.  Of course the concert didn’t cost that much, I figure the actual concert was around ten bucks.  But then they added in all the fees, including:

The Convenience Fee -  It is very convenient for someone to extract more cash from you after you have already bought the ticket.

The Printing Fee – I am using my paper, my ink and my printer to do the actual printing and they do not need to process or mail the ticket.  Shouldn’t they be paying me to do this?

The Government Fee – Otherwise known as taxes. What possible involvement or interest does the government have in a concert and where does this money go?

I had no interest in this concert, except to salvage some of my $230.  I know that Tim McGraw is married to that hot chick who used to sing before Sunday Night Football and I’ve probably heard some of his songs, but I couldn’t tell him apart from other country stars such as Blake Shelton, Luke Bryan or Drake.

Is this Drake?

So I headed off to the concert that night at the Pro Football Hall of Fame stadium.  The concert is part of the Hall of Fame induction weekend in August.  My wife and I arrived well before the concert to soak up the great atmosphere.  Thousands of football fans were on the grounds and there was a couple of local bands providing entertainment.

I ran into my friend Fulton at one of the pre-concerts and he pointed out to me that I was dressed improperly for the evening.  It was sweltering hot and I selected a jersey that was loose-fitting and comfortable in the heat – a baseball jersey.  So at football Mecca, among thousands of people wearing football jerseys, I am walking around in a Dodgers shirt.  This is the equivalent to wearing a hijab to church.

I felt like such a dweeb, very nerdy.  I couldn’t be the only one stupid enough to do this, so as I walked around I searched for anyone else wearing a baseball jersey.  And I finally found one! “Ha I thought, I’m not the only one!  Yeah, whoa, that guy sure looks like a total loser in that baseball garb! --- Oh crap, never mind ……..”

I was still not dressed appropriately when I entered the stadium for the concert.  It was like entering a foreign country.  Everyone was wearing cowboy boots.  This alarmed me and I was careful wear I stepped because I was sure the ground was covered in goose poop. I mean why else would people be wearing boots in 90- degree weather?

However, this concert was becoming much more tolerable due to the abundance of young women pairing their boots with Daisy Dukes.  Now this wasn’t totally enjoyable.  These shorts were made popular by actress Catherine Bach who had world-class thighs.  Some of those women sporting Daisy Dukes that night had world-wide thighs.  You could call them Daisy Delusionals, if they believed that was a good fashion choice.  I don’t like excessive government regulations, but if Congress wrote a law limiting the size of Daisy Dukes that could be sold, I think I would have to get behind it, I mean support it.

But I’m sure all these ladies are sweethearts, no matter their size.  My single friend Ben tells me all the time how much he enjoys dating country girls.  But he doesn’t date them exclusively, because he likes city girls too. Just the other day he told me he loves cowgirls, but said sometimes he enjoys reverse cowgirl too.

One thing I couldn’t understand were the people going for beers constantly throughout the concert.  First you miss half the concert, then you end up drunk and can’t enjoy the rest of it. Um, you could have just gone to a bar that night and saved $230.

Now I did leave my seat once to get a large, thick, milkshake. I guess all those thick thighs were making me thirsty.  However, on my way back, one of those drunken cowboys crashed into me and I spilled my milkshake all over the field.  Now I quickly took my foot and smoothed it around so it blended into the painting done for the upcoming Hall of Fame Game.  I think I hid it very well and I’m sure no one even noticed it.

The concert actually was very enjoyable, with the added entertainment of with a very inebriated cowgirl arguing loudly with the authorities about the location of her seat.  And I did recognize some of the songs including “I Like It, I Love It” (I want some more of it) which has to be the greatest song ever written about mashed potatoes.

Now I do admit that I was unable to extract the full $230 out of the experience, but I’m still glad I went.  I do believe it is beneficial to expand my horizons and once the news gets out, it could get me a second chance with Taylor Swift – well as soon as she dumps her current boyfriend. (Which incidentally, just happened after I wrote this and before I posted!)

I Love Shania Twain – And Her Music’s Okay, I Guess (The Summer of County Music - Part 1)

Got in my car, turned on the radio, and ---- heard something very disturbing blasting through my Dolby, it was, it was …. country music.  This was odd since I have my radio pre-sets carefully coordinated and none, none of the six buttons, are programmed for country.

It seemed that one of my favorite stations had changed its format from 60’s and 70’s classics, to modern country.  Of course any sudden change is extremely irritating to a middle-age guy.  This totally fizzed me off and ruined my whole day. My classic station was so dear to me that it occupied my second pre-set button, a very esteemed position, indeed. 

I loved my classic station because its music made me feel young again.  Of course this causes some problems.  This station played a healthy dose of The Stones. Instinctively, I hit the gas whenever The Stones come on.  It is literally impossible for me to maintain the speed limit. This is particularly troubling when the Stones come on in a school zone.

“Get the hell out of road kiddies. Here comes a child of the 70’s and Jumpin’ Jack Flash got his foot on the gas, gas, gas ….”

Now most sane people would have just found a new station to program in the #2 button, or at least pushed another button, but not a stubborn middle-aged guy.  I let the country music play, just to make me even more miserable. Now I don’t hate country music, but I don’t have the “country music gene”.  It somehow skipped a generation.  My dad was a huge country music fan, as is one of my daughters.  And love of NASCAR is also bundled in that very gene.  If you give me the choice between watching a NASCAR race and a curling match, I will ask you which one will be over first, however my daughter, as my dad was, is a big fan.

But I learned something unexpected by listening to these country tunes.  It used to be county music was ridiculed because the lyrics were stupid and predictable, but my, my, has this ever changed.  I found that the lyrics were usually well composed, covering a wide scope of human situations and emotions.

This is in stark contrast to today’s pop music, dominated by chicky-babes with heaving breasts, wailing about overcoming tremendous obstacles.  Of course you can’t help but think they used their boobs in some way to achieve these mighty victories.  This means males and flat-chested women can’t relate to these songs.  I mean I’ve never been able to use my man-boobs to achieve any triumphs.

And compared to rap lyrics, which I can’t even listen to anymore, the country lyrics are a doctorate level thesis.  If there were a device that filtered out all rap music from my radio, I would hip hop down to the store and buy one today.

My second encounter with country music this summer involved being interviewed live on a country music radio station for my book, Just Make Me A Sammich. The host read an excerpt from the book mentioning Shania Twain.  He then assumed I was a huge country music fan and starting asking me questions, not about the book, but about my love of country music – and remember, this was live, very live.

Of course one can be a devout Shania Twain fan without even listening to her music.  For example, I really like her, uh, ah, well ah, you know.  And her uh, oh, eee, ah, well, that is outstanding also.  He totally caught me off guard by

asking what other county singers I enjoy.  I said while country is not my favorite music, I do have some Kenny Chesney, Dixie Chicks and  early Eagles on my mp3.  If I could have thought faster, I would have included Rascal Flatts, Keith Urban and Buck Owens.

Buck Owens?  Yes, he’s on there because he was my dad’s favorite and your father influences you in ways that you can’t begin to understand.  I was even sad the day Buck Owens died, because I knew my dad would have been sad. Strange indeed. 

My third summer encounter with country music involved the big Tim McGraw concert that was part of the Football Hall of Fame induction weekend in Canton, Ohio.  I had purchased a very, did I say very, expensive ticket so my country music lovin’ daughter could attend.  My daughter warned me not to buy the ticket, way back in February, because she works Friday nights and she couldn’t guarantee she would be able to go.  Hogwash, I said.  They will let you off work for Tim McGraw, I mean it’s freakin’ TIM McGRAW!

But no, due to some unique circumstances my daughter HAD to work that night.  Which means I attended the concert instead.  Well, what did you expect me to do?  It was a very expensive ticket.  So I found myself in the utterly bizarre world of a major country music concert.  You’re thinking “Wow, that sure sounds like an Ake’s Pains blog post to me!” And you are correct – next post it is!

Well, I don’t know how long it took me to realize that my 70’s classics station had not changed formats, but I had programmed the wrong station into button #2 after my car had some electrical work.  I was so fizzed off at the radio station, but it turns out the culprit was really me!  There was a time I wouldn’t make stupid mistakes such as this.  It would be an extremely rare occurrence, an utterly anomaly. Now days these incidences are known merely as “Tuesday”.

(Cue Katy Perry)

I’ve got the breasts of a starlet, a harlot,

Bouncing like a barmaid

Cause they are humongous, and you’re gonna see me score

Bigger, bigger than a C-cup

Cause they are humongous and you’re gonna see me score

Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dota dot ……

Please check out my new humor book - Just Make Me A Sammich http://donake.net/just-make-me-a-sammich-book