Two of the selections here, "I Don't Do B and E's", and Laundry Bag, Pipe Bomb", are from the book, "Papa, Did We Break It?"
(Which you should buy: http://bellowphone.com/writings.html)

The rest are stories that I add and change up in no particular order, so check back now and then, and scroll around. Leave a comment, for cryin' out loud.

Besides the poems and the obvious parodies, all the experiences that I relate here happened just as I tell them, as near as I can remember.

Not Everyone gets a Trophy

    During a grade school assembly, I was demonstrating the sounds of different organ pipes. I added an extension to one pipe, then asked a question about how the sound would be different; the correct answer being, "It would be lower." I called on a child and she answered, "higher."
    I said, "That's a good guess; you were very close: it's actually… lower."
    Some of the teachers thought this was funny, but a very annoyed 3rd grader, goaded beyond civility, piped up, "She wasn't close! She was wrong!"
    I admired his sense of justice, but he should have raised his hand.

Arc

     I've been in a few interesting shows, and the first time I was in a big one, I had been told that there would be a car waiting for me at the airport. So I was looking around for a van or something. A man wearing fancy livery, holding open the door of a gleaming stretch limo, said, "Mr. Solomon?"
I was in my jeans and flannel shirt, looking around, confused; "Me?"
     A group of people on the platform looked over, and began gesturing and whispering: "Look; he's Someone. I think he's Someone."
      So, there was my 15 minutes of fame. Literally, as it turns out, because my 15 minute set was featured on national TV. For a short period of time after that, I would get recognized in unexpected places, but it didn't last, of course. A few weeks later, I was back to performing at backyard barbecues and church suppers for 15 people.
     But getting back to that limo ride; there might have been champagne in the limo's bar, but I have no idea. Since there were no groupies, I didn't feel like rolling around by myself in all that empty space, so I asked the driver if I could just ride up front with him.
     "Whatever you want, sir." he intoned. (I wanted groupies, but, whatever.) So we rode along to the hotel, with the cavernous pleasure-dome of extravagance, following hollow and vacant behind us.
     There's glory for you.