On The Road With Dave

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Now Appearing in an Extended Engagement! Join Dave Robison as he takes you into his world and his daily life of reviving a stand-up comedy career. Prepare for side trips exploring Public Relations, marketing and business ethics. Enjoy some frequent detours describing his observations on life. Read the exploits of this self-proclaimed Renaissance-man and blooming blogger as you go On The Road With Dave.

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Name: Dave Robison
Location: Mobile, Alabama, United States

From Mobile, Alabama comes Dave Robison, a confessed Internet-aholic, middle-aged-married-man, who's generally a nice guy--he just has one or two issues. Stand-Up Comedy by Dave Robison is available for corporate events, college campuses, and nightclubs.



On The Road with Dave

Friday, December 25, 2009

Say Good-bye To Santa

Santa is back at the North Pole and Christmas is one minute from being officially over in my time zone.

All was happy and bright at the Robison household, and I hope all my readers had a great day. I worked on Christmas Day for the first time in many, many years but, it was still a great day!

It was Christmas--how could it not be a great day?

Here's looking forward to next year and keeping that Spirit of Christmas alive in the coming months.

Don't forget to look at my ventriloquist dummy's
blog, "Skyler's Gravel Road for his "Christmas Past"

Photo by Emin Ozkan


Merry Christmas To All!

"Christmas is forever, not for just one day, for loving, sharing, giving, are not to put away like bells and lights and tinsel, in some box upon a shelf. The good you do for others is good you do yourself..."

--Norman Wesley Brooks

Photo By Jram D


Peace And Good Will Toward Men

"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."

--Book of Isaiah 9:6 New International Version

Photo by Stephen J. Sullivan


Thursday, December 24, 2009

Just Like Our First Christmas

Look at us now, Part of it all,In spite of it all,
We're still around

Lovers in love,
Just like we were
Being apart's a lonely sound

When people ask how we stay together
I say you never let me down
And you make it feel like Christmas
Even when things go wrong
I hear the sound of Christmas in your song
All year long
Yes, you know that I do

Look at the sun
Shining on me
Nowhere could be a better place

Lovers in love,
That's what we are
I reach for that star out there in space

'Cause you make it feel like Christmas
Even when things go wrong
I hear the sound of Christmas in your song
All year long
And you know that's it true

Sleepy we are,
But happy together
Sounds of forever
Greet the day
So wake up the kids,
Put on some tea
Light up the tree,
It's Christmas day

Yeah, you make it feel like Christmas
Even when things go wrong
I hear the sound of Christmas in your song
All year long
Yes you know that I do
All year long
Light up the tree,
It's Christmas time

--Neil Diamond; You Make It Feel Like Christmas

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Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Christmas Is Almost Here

As of this writing, it is 1 Day,1 Hour, and 1 Minute until Christmas Day. I can hardly wait.

This season I have done my very best to get into the Christmas spirit and stay in the Christmas spirit. Some years, I have became depressed or frustrated as Christmas approached. There have been some holidays that one would have expected me to say "Bah Humbug" and that's a shame because I really love the Christmas time of year. But, sometimes I have let the spirit of the season be replaced with money worries, possessions(or lack thereof) and my general lot in life. For Christmas, 2009; I decided in September that I would strive to ignite the spirit of Christmas early, and carry through with it until the New Year and beyond. So far, so good.

For the past week, I've been posting Countdown to Christmas updates on my Twitter page as well as my Facebook status. I think some people found it annoying, but others looked forward to it.

I've enjoyed making this past week's "On The Road With Dave" entries Christmas-related and over the next two days, my other side-blogs will have a Christmas update or two.

On top of the Christmas Spirit that has infested me, I'm also looking forward to tomorrow and Christmas Eve, as it is my wedding anniversary. All in all, I'm a pretty lucky guy, with lots to be thankful for, and pretty damn happy about it all.

Photo by Martine Lemmens


Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Mele Kalikimaka Is Hawaii's Way

As some of my readers know, I lost my Dad back in 2001. He was 89. Dad had spent many years in "The Hawaiian Islands" during World War II and was a survivor of Pearl Harbor. The "Islands" always held a special place in Dad's memory. In 1977, at the age of 65, Dad traveled back to Honolulu to visit his memories. He brought back the photo at the right taken shortly after the traditional lei greeting.

In my current job, my supervisor is also from Hawaii. Our team cubicles are decorated with plastic lei and "island" references are used to motivate us or describe our team. I'm reminded often about Dad's passion for all things Polynesian.

As Christmas approaches, I can't help but think about Dad and Mom not being around anymore, but looking on this picture always makes me smile. Dad always looks like a kid opening a present on Christmas morning. (And the pretty wahine probably has something to do with it)

So, for Dad; Mele Kalikimaka me ka Hau'oli Makahiki Hou

Mele Kalikimaka is the thing to say
On a bright Hawaiian Christmas Day
That's the island greeting that we send to you
From the land where palm trees sway
Here we know that Christmas will be green and bright
The sun to shine by day and all the stars at night
Mele Kalikimaka is Hawaii's way
To say "Merry Christmas to you".

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Monday, December 21, 2009

Yes Virgina, I Still Believe In Santa Claus

In 1897, eight year old Virginia O'Hanlon asked her father if there really was a Santa Claus. Had Mr. Hanlon had access to the Internet he may have told his daughter to "google" it; but lacking 21st Century technology, Mr. Hanlon told his daughter to write to the "New York Sun", a prominent New York City newspaper at the time, assuring her that "If you see it in The Sun, it's so." (I suppose we would need to check at Snopes.com these days.)

But in September of 1897, Francis Pharcellus Church took on the responsibility of answering Virgina's question. If Mr. Church was alive today, I'm sure he'd have a large Twitter following. Mr. Church considered the question and made history with his answer to the little girl. Mr. Church made Virgina, The Sun readers, and for over a 112 years; he still makes us all believe in Santa Claus.


We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:

"DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old.
Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.'
Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?"


VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except [what] they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.



Sunday, December 20, 2009

"Sunday Thoughts"

"Please, celebrate me home,
Give me a number,
please, celebrate me home
Play me one more song,
That I'll always remember,
and I can recall,
whenever I find myself too all alone,
I can sing me home."

--Kenny Loggins, Celebrate Me Home

Photo by Kaarel Taam

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Sunday, December 13, 2009

"Sunday Thoughts"

"Christmas is the season where he give tokens of love. In that house we received not tokens but love itself. I became the writer I promised my father I would be and my destiny lead me far from Walton's Mountain. My mother lives there still. Alone now for we lost my father in 1969. My brothers and sisters, grown with children of their own, live not far away. We are still a close family and see each other when we can. And like Miss Maime Baldwin's fourth cousins, we're apt to sample the recipe and then gather around the piano and hug each other while we sing the old songs. For no matter the time or distance, we are united in the memory of that Christmas eve. More than 30 years and 3,000 miles away, I can still hear those sweet voices."

Earl Hamner, Jr writing for "John-Boy Walton"

Photo by Martin Boulanger

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Saturday, December 12, 2009

Georgia On My Mind

As Christmas approaches; corporations, small businesses, and organizations are celebrating the season with annual Christmas and Holiday office parties. Two such parties I know of this weekend include my employer's Christmas party and my wife's employer's Christmas party. In the past, I've always attended the annual Medi-stat Christmas party. My wife has been a long-time employee and for a few years it was also my employer. Medi-Stat's parties are always fun, but this year their annual Christmas party conflicts with my new employer's party.

So, how did we choose which one to attend?

Ryla Teleservices' annual Christmas party is in Atlanta at the Renaissance Atlanta Waverly Hotel. That means an overnight stay in Atlanta at the hotel, with dinner and dancing. Travel out of town, you say? Okay, we're there!

This morning, we catch a free charter bus at the Saraland, Alabama division of Ryla and ride to Atlanta for the night. Since our anniversary is just shy of two weeks away, the wife and I plan to not only enjoy a party with some fellow employees and the upper management of the "home office"; but also make it a mini-anniversary celebration.

My wife bought a new dress, my suit is pressed, and the bags are packed. If I can snap a few non-proprietary, non-incriminating photos of fellow employees and friends at the party, I'll let you know how it turned out next week.

Until then, I'll still have Christmas...and Georgia on my mind.

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Friday, December 11, 2009

Happy Hanukkah

Blessed are you, Lord, our God, sovereign of the universe
who has kept us alive, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this season (Amen)

The miracle, of course, was not that the oil for the sacred light -
in a little cruse - lasted as long as they say;
but that the courage of the Maccabees lasted to this day:
let that nourish my flickering spirit.

--Charles Reznikoff


Wednesday, December 9, 2009

'Tis The Season

It's the Holiday Season. I'm all about Christmas.

I wanted to make sleigh tracks in the front yard when the kids were young so they would know Santa Claus landed on the yard. I was disappointed when my last son stopped believing in Santa Claus and I'm happy that I have a grandson that now believes in Santa Claus.

I watch The Walton's TV series pilot, The Homecoming every Christmas Eve. I also cry when John-Boy Walton's Dad gives him the writing tablets and says "How do you suppose Santa Claus learned all the way up there at the North Pole that you wanted to be a writer?"

Hell, I was married on Christmas Eve and dance with my wife under the Christmas tree every year on our anniversary to Neil Diamond's "You Make It Feel Like Christmas". (I know, you're so jealous at my romantic side)

So it seemed natural, that for the month of December, I should change my page banner to something "Christmas-y". I couldn't find a good panoramic Christmas photo featuring my standard "road" theme, so I opted for a banner with a Christmas tree theme. For the month of December you can read "On The Road" Under The Tree.

Original Photo By Martin Boulanger

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Sunday, December 6, 2009

"Sunday Thoughts"

"Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love!"

--Hamilton Wright Mabie

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Monday, January 5, 2009

Friday Night In New Orleans

I know it's the new year, but I'm still stuck in the Christmas season of 2008. Specifically, I have more to say about my anniversary trip to New Orleans the weekend before Christmas.

You'll have to bear with me until I get it out of my system.

Our first night in the French Quarter was to be casual and relaxed, but we had specific plans. We made our usual walk around the Quarter, only during this time of the year, we listened to the street performers playing Christmas tunes, instead of jazz and blues. While walking in Jackson Square, the storefronts were decorated with red and green wreaths mixed in with the purple and gold colors of the Mardi Gras and the people walking the streets seemed just a bit more friendly than usual.

Our dinner plans led us to The Gumbo Shop. I had avoided the Gumbo Shop for many years and I was soon to find out that was a big mistake.

Why had I avoided it? Illogically, it was the name. In my mind, the name, "Gumbo Shop" seemed too cliche', too "touristy." Surely, it was named that just to bring in diners that were only familiar with the name, "gumbo" and its relation to New Orleans. I was stupid.

And to add insult to stupidity, I had been searching for the "perfect cup of Gumbo" for six years while living on the Gulf Coast. I had tried gumbo in every restaurant I had been in that offered the dish over those years. I was always disappointed. The concoction was always too spicy, too watery, or too tasteless.

And where did I find that perfect cup of crabmeat, shrimp, okra "stew" seasoned to an orgasmic splendor? At a place called the Gumbo Shop, where else?

In addition, to the gumbo, my wife and I enjoyed a half-loaf of hot, crispy French bread and butter. But that was just the appetizer.

"The Gumbo Shop" located at 630 Saint Peter Street offered a combination platter of three of New Orleans traditional dishes as an entree'. A Large platter containing Shrimp Creole, Jambalaya and Red Beans and Rice put my mind at ease that this place was anything but "touristy". If I had a complaint, it would only be that the Red Beans and Rice had a more pronounced smokey flavor than I was used to. I'm more used to a pol ska kielbasa sausage than the heavy smoked sausage used in the restaurant dish. It was a matter of my taste, and had nothing to do with the execution by the chef on his variation. I had no trouble with finishing my meal.

We declined the offer of dessert by the very attentive and friendly waiter who served us, merely because we ate our fill of the meal. I would recommend The Gumbo Shop for any tourist, or regular traveler to New Orleans.

After dinner, we "waddled and rolled" our bodies down the street to Pat O'Brien's Bar. Pat O's is another one of those tourist places that I had avoided, but this was a night to experience new things.

The bar has been a landmark in The Quarter since the 1930s serving up its most famous drink, "The Hurricane", served in a glass almost as big as the lamp that gives the glass its shape and name.

We sat in the gas-lamp and torch-lit courtyard as we watch the fountain waters rise from a gas flame. We listened to good music and we sipped our 4 ounces of rum mixed with 4 ounces of the fruity(think Hawaiian Punch)Hurricane mix.

It's a dangerous drink. You can down 4 shots of liquor more quickly than sipping sweet tea on a hot day. I noticed several empty glasses on many tables and only could imagine the condition those drinkers would be in later on Bourbon Street.

But I would not imagine for long, as we left Pat O'Brien's and headed onto Bourbon Street for a stroll among the good, clean, debauchery.

Bourbon Street has all the scenes you've seen in an episode of COPS:New Orleans or a "Girls Gone Wild" video. As I pointed to some revelers on a second-floor balcony of a club; an attractive lady completed a perfect "ringer" on my arm delivering a string of beads to me. She yelled along with me in mutual admiration of her feat.

At the end of Bourbon Street bordering Canal Street, we were treated to an impromptu dance party. A Street band was entertaining a small crowd standing in a circle and taking turns at taking the center stage to dance, to writhe, to booty-shake, and to two-step to the lively music. I was going to join the dancers and put them all to shame with my skills, but decided against the action. It would be better if I just took a photo of the moment.

We ended Friday night back at our starting point, The Hotel Montleone, and its very own Carousel Bar. For those that do not drink enough to make their heads spin, they can sit at the bar as it slowly rotates a full 360 degrees as the hour passes. I'm not sure how the bartender keeps track of his clients, as they slowly trade places along the bar's carousel track. Luckily for the heavy drinkers, the stools do not rise up and down like a carousel pony.

We did not end up at the hotel's bar, by accident or as a last resort. I had one more thing planned.

I had met The New Orleans Pianoman, John Autin, on MYspace and knew that he was a long-time fixture at The Carousel Bar. John plays a seven-foot Steinway with "sets" filled with Jazz, Blues, Rock, Funk, Standards, and Pop.

I had asked John via email for a small favor before we left for the weekend. He was only too happy to oblige. As we found a booth to sit in, I waved to John. He smiled.

Moments later, he announced to the crowd that a "young" couple was celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary in New Orleans and that it was his pleasure to sing "Their" song.

My wife and I danced to "It Had To Be You" as if Harry Connick, Jr. was covering the song in "When Harry Met Sally". We smiled, we laughed, we danced, we kissed.

It was the end of a very good first night in New Orleans.

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Sunday, December 28, 2008

Noel At The Hotel Monteleone / Part 2

Walking into our room on the fourth floor of The Hotel Monteleone brought back that relaxed feel that I had prior to our problems at check-in. We had stayed at the Monteleone several years ago before Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans and it was nice to see the grand hotel back in its finery after renovations. The balloon you see in the photo was from our co-workers who had thrown us a fine at-work party the day before. My wife insisted on bringing it along with us.

Once in the room, we did our standard unpacking routine; lay out the toiletries, hang clothing up in the closet to avoid wrinkling, and look at the room literature.

The room had all the amenities you'd expect; hairdryer, iron, ironing board, two fluffy long terry cloth robes, a large TV, an electronic room safe and the evil mini-bar fridge and pantry. No smoking is allowed in the hotel, even in the bar...so for smokers, you'll be taking numerous trips on the elevators to smoke outside the hotel on the sidewalk.

QUICK TRAVEL TIP: If you bring kids on a trip to the Monteleone, forbid them from even opening the Fridge or cabinet. Young children should be watched at all times. The mini-bar is electronic. Simply removing an item automatically charges you for the item whether you consume it or not. Quite the scam. I did not remove anything.

After we had settled in, it was time to take our trip's initial walk into the French Quarter. The Monteleone is located on Royal Street and is centrally located to all of the Quarter. But first, I had to do one thing.

A week before the trip, I had purchased a small emerald ring for my wife. She knew about it, but was forbidden to wear it until the trip. Over the week she had taken it out the box and admired it. A single square-cut emerald stone with two smaller ones on either side surrounded by diamond chips. Before you get all "Dave, did you win the lottery?" on me, let me say, it was a good deal, and the ring, although beautiful, is not something Tiffany's sells. But, my wife loves it.

Anyway, I took the ring out of its case and placed the anniversary gift on her finger and said some "gooshy" mushy stuff to her. It was time to venture out into the Quarter and continue on with our vacation.

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Noel at Hotel Monteleone / Part One

Just about every two months, my family gets the "New Orleans itch" and we make a drive over to the "Big Easy" for a day trip. We spend the day walking in The French Quarter--sweating, eating, shopping, and watching other tourists do the same thing. Although, the family and I consider New Orleans almost a second home rather than classifying ourselves as "tourists".

This past year we decided to buck the current trend of "staycations" due to high gasoline costs and drive to New Orleans for a night in a hotel, dinner, music and a mini 36 hour vacation. It was nice to head back to an air-conditioned hotel room at the end of a day instead of climbing back into a car with our bodies soaked in sweat for a two-hour drive back to Mobile, Alabama.

For my 25th wedding anniversary, I decided to take my wife back to New Orleans, sans kids, and spend not one night, but two, in one of New Orleans' most notable hotels and celebrate not only our anniversary, but the sights and sounds of the Christmas season in a city we both love.

You could visit New Orleans a hundred times and plan a hundred different itineraries and expected experiences...architect walks, antiquing, partying, voodoo, carriage rides, shopping, gambling, even museum experiences. Ordinarily, we would plan to wander the streets of the French Quarter and let the experiences come to us. This time, for this occasion we had an itinerary.

Our celebration/vacation would start at The Hotel Monteleone. The Monteleone Hotel began in 1886, and was started by Antonio Monteleone. Since 1886, four generations of Monteleones have dedicated themselves to making their hotel what it was and still is--a sparkling jewel in the heart of the French Quarter.

Quick Travel Tip--While the prestige exists to drive up to a fancy hotel and have a valet unload your luggage and drive your car to a parking garage, ready at your bidding; the $30.00 dollars a day to park on-site can be budget breaking. You can save almost $15.00 a day by parking in Central Parking off Canal Street and walk a short 4 blocks to the hotel. This also makes your car a convenient storage area and rest stop while walking in Jackson Square. Store some soft drinks in a cooler in you car trunk and save on snacks while exploring the Vieux Carre'.

We arrived at the hotel excited after a short walk and started to check in. This was to be a perfect weekend right up to the point we arrived at the desk. This story should be another "Quick Travel Tip"--but it's more of a rant, than a tip. You see, at this writing, the USA is in an economic recession, a credit crunch, businesses are going bankrupt and homeowners are losing their houses to foreclosure. Everyone is overextended on their credit cards. So why is it that a person paying cold, hard, CASH is discriminated against?

First, we had to use a friend's credit card to make reservations for our room. That wasn't much of a problem because we informed the reservations attendant on the phone that we would pay in cash, we merely were reserving the room with the card. Cash. "No problem," we were informed.

Second, What we were not informed of, was something called "Incidental Charges" This is a deposit one must make to cover incidental charges such as the "honor bar", towel theft, room service,phone calls, and such. I can understand this to a degree, and if you use a credit card, you can charge these things to your room during your stay, but Hotel Monteleone charges $60.00 a day for these incidentals. Right away, they wanted $120.00 out of our budget to sit in their coffers, in case we drank a Coke out of their outrageously expensive mini-fridge. I wasn't paying for it. I had not been informed to bring a $120 dollar cash deposit. I had not budgeted for it. I asked to see a manager.

I explained that I do not use a credit card. I did not bring a debit card. I brought cash. I had other plans, that did not include room service or Adult movies. What could be done? The manager and I settled on a $60.00 deposit. One night. If I abused any of their services the first night, then I would be charged and asked for the remaining 60 bucks. If not, the initial deposit would carry over to the next night. I decided I could live with that.

Deep breath. Calm down. Relax.

We received our room keycards and boarded the Bienville Street Elevators and rose to our floor. The Vacation could finally begin.

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Friday, December 26, 2008

Christmas In New Orleans

Just saying the name of the city brings to mind images of Mardi Gras, drunken parties, graveyards, bare-breasted women, voodoo, and in recent years; destruction, poverty, and a slow rebirth.

I've been to New Orleans, Louisiana dozens of times and each trip brings a new experience. I've yet to lose my awe of the city. You can cite murder rates, homelessness, graft, and point to examples of a city with a dichotomy between tourist fantasy and resident misery and still--New Orleans resists being placed in the "cynicism" category of my mind's attitude.

Last weekend, my wife and I started our 10-day Christmas vacation with a pre-anniversary celebration trip to our favorite city. The giddiness we still feel as we approach the city still amazes me. And then, no sooner than we park the car, the total relaxation that sweeps over me is likened to a drug. I breathe more deeply, smile more broadly and a spring is in my step as I put my feet down on the pavement of the French Quarter.

But this trip was to be different. I was celebrating history itself in the historic "Big Easy". I had been married 25 years. This was our second honeymoon. Yes, we had talked about a hundred places over the years to celebrate this occasion, but in the end, we chose our reliable, comfortable, New Orleans.

Christmas in New Orleans is special. Along Canal Street, Christmas decorations hung from the old lampposts. The Street Cars were clad in garland and wreaths. The shops were decorated in Christmas regalia along with the gaudy mix of Mardi Gras-inspired colors.

In The Quarter, speakers blared from the various stores and bars with traditional Christmas tunes, rock and roll, blues, and Christmas songs done with a Zydeco mix.

Along Royal Street, the street performers sang carols and played "Silent Night" on old trumpets and trombones. Your senses were bombarded as you are transported from a Victorian Dickens-esqe scene on one block and then swept back to present day as a street hawker invites you to come in to a bar and see the "beautiful ladies on stage". Of course, maybe that same street hawker lived a past life just down from Ebeneezer Scrooge's Counting House and barked those same words to Bob Cratchitt as he strolled home.

If you wanted a White Christmas, you would have been a week late. Prior to this particular weekend, New Orleans had received some rare snowfall of a few inches. But now, the weather was overcast and warm. Not the humid, sweaty heat of a "Big Easy" summer, but the kind of warm that people living in Michigan or Connecticut in the winter might envy. The temperature was around 70 degrees and a cool breeze blew through the alleyways. It was the kind of breeze that elicited an involuntary "ahhh" as it blew past you.

My next few entries here at "On The Road With Dave" will divulge more details of my Christmas In New Orleans. I hope you will join me as I re-live what my wife called our "perfect weekend".

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Thursday, December 25, 2008


"I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round, as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys."

--Charles Dickens


Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Happy Anniversary

25 years seems like a long time.

A quarter of a century.

More than a generation.

One score and five.

And yet, it has passed by for me in the blink of an eye. And in that blink, I can remember all the happiness, all the trouble, all the joy of living in a life with a never ending, all forgiving love.

A silver anniversary is a major milestone in a marriage...but silver seems so worthless compared to the value of reaching that milestone.

Yes, a marriage, any marriage--my marriage; is never perfect. Nor is the couple involved, but perfection wasn't what it was--it is; all about. The inconsistencies, the imperfections, the flaws, not only made it unique, but also made it strong. Perfect, no; but everlasting, yes.

25 years is not a long time; because I want, I need another 25 years. It has passed by much to quick. I look forward to the beginning of yet another 25 years.

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Sunday, December 14, 2008

"Sunday Thoughts"

"Once again we find ourselves enmeshed in the Holiday Season, that very special time of year when we join with our loved ones in sharing centuries-old traditions such as trying to find a parking space at the mall. We traditionally do this in my family by driving around the parking lot until we see a shopper emerge from the mall, then we follow her, in very much the same spirit as the Three Wise Men, who 2,000 years ago followed a star, week after week, until it led them to a parking space."

--Dave Barry

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Tuesday, December 25, 2007


Here's wishing ALL my readers and friends a very Merry Christmas!

And, I think you'll agree that when it comes to "Santa's Helpers", I got lucky.


Sunday, December 23, 2007

"Sunday Thoughts"

"In the old days, it was not called the Holiday Season; the Christians called it 'Christmas' and went to church; the Jews called it 'Hanukkah' and went to synagogue; the atheists went to parties and drank. People passing each other on the street would say 'Merry Christmas!' or 'Happy Hanukkah!' or (to the atheists) 'Look out for the wall!'"

--Dave Barry, "Christmas Shopping: A Survivor's Guide"

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Sunday, December 24, 2006

"Sunday Thoughts"

"But the angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end."

--Gospel of Luke, Chapter 1:30-33 New International Version

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Sunday, December 17, 2006

"Sunday Thoughts"

"I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round, as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys."

--Charles Dickens

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Sunday, December 25, 2005

"Christmas Day Thoughts"

Merry Christmas!

"Christmas gift suggestions: To your enemy, forgiveness. To an opponent, tolerance. To a friend, your heart. To a customer, service. To all, charity. To every child, a good example. To yourself, respect."

--Oren Arnold


Saturday, December 24, 2005

Santa Tracker 2005

Okay folks, you have an Internet connection and if you have kids, then there's no reason you can't be doing what I'm doing; and that is, tracking Santa Claus as he makes his way around the world.

Radar tracking and video is provided courtesty of NORAD


Sunday, December 18, 2005

"Sunday Thoughts"

The gifts that one receives for giving are so immeasurable that it is almost an injustice to accept them.

--Rod McKuen

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Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Agnes' Gifts--Re-Dux

Howdy "On The Roadies."

Gee, don't you hate those inept bloggers that insist on writing, "Read My Archives" when they haven't got much to say?

Yep, they oughtta be lined up against a wall and shot. How dare they rob us of our time visiting their site and then telling us to read something we already have read. In the words of the Immortal Curly, "The noive!!!!"

Now that's outta the way.

My regular 9-5 job has spilled into my night-time hours. This week I am "on call" to assist our DME patients with emergencies, so my time online is limited this week.

In my absence, there has been some controversy about my tribute to the late Richard Pryor over at MLM Blog. My use of a racial slur used frequently by Pryor sparked discussion ranging from disgust over the use of the word; to the defense of yours truly by other commenters; to implication that all white southerners are predisposed to racism. In the end, an agreement to disagreement seems to be the prevailing course. I'm sure Pryor would have enjoyed the discussion and at last look, the comments are still coming in.

But today is December 14th, officially the First Day of Christmas as the old Christmas carol is sung, and partridges everywhere are perched in pear trees.

Soooooooooo, about those bloggers that insist on you reading their archives; I'd like for you to re-visit poor Agnes McAllister as she is inundated with gifts from her "true love" in Part One and Part Two of "The 12 Days of Christmas."

WARNING: The language contained in the hyperlinked entries is R-rated. Read at your discretion.


Sunday, December 4, 2005

"Sunday Thoughts"

"The best of all gifts around any Christmas tree: the presence of a happy family all wrapped up in each other."

--Burton Hillis

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Saturday, December 25, 2004

Happy Holidays To All!

Here's wishing all my readers the very best of the holiday season for you and yours.

May the coming new year fulfill in you the very best.



Friday, December 24, 2004

My Best Christmas

It was December 24, 1983.

On record as one of the coldest days in Columbus, Mississippi. (5 degrees at Noon)

At approximately 11:00AM, in a small Church of Christ in Caledonia, MS; the preacher asked the woman standing beside me would she promise to love me, not just be "in love with me" for the rest of her life and stand beside me as my wife.

She said, "I will."

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Thursday, December 23, 2004

Twelve Days of Christmas / Part 2

And now the horror of those gifts are made known.
(Rated PG-13 for intense language)

December 20th

What’s with you and those fucking birds???? Seven swans a-swimming. What kind of goddam joke is this?
There’s bird shit all over the house and they never stop the racket. I’m a nervous wreck and I can’t sleep all night.
IT’S NOT FUNNY…So stop with those fucking birds.
Sincerely, Agnes

December 21st

OK Buster:
I think I prefer the birds. What the hell am I going to do with eight maids a-milking? It’s not enough with all those birds and eight maids a-milking, but they had to bring their own goddam cows. There is shit all over the lawn and I can’t move in my house. Just lay off me. SMART ASS.

December 22nd

Hey Shithead:
What are you? Some kind of Sadist? Now there’s nine pipers playing. And Christ – do they play. They never stopped chasing those maids since they got here yesterday morning. The cows are upset and stepping all over those screeching birds. No wonder they screech. What am I going to do? The neighbors have started a petition to evict me. You’ll get yours.
From Ag

December 23rd

You Rotten Prick:
Now there’s ten ladies dancing – I don’t know why I call those sluts ladies. They’ve been balling those nine pipers all night long. Now the cows can’t sleep and they’ve got diarrhea. My living room is a river of shit. The commissioner of buildings has subpoenaed me to give cause why the building shouldn’t be condemned. I’m sicking the police on you.
One who means it, Ag

December 24th

Listen Fuckhead:
What’s with the eleven lords a-leaping on those maids and aforementioned “ladies”? Some of those broads will never walk again. Those pipers ran through the maids and have been committing sodomy with the cows. All 234 birds are dead. They have been trampled to death in the orgy. I hope you’re satisfied, you rotten swine.
Your sworn enemy, Miss Agnes McCallister

December 25th

(From the law offices of Tadker, Spreder, and Baegar)

Dear Sir:
This is to acknowledge your latest gift of twelve fiddlers fiddling, which you have seen fit to inflict on our client, Miss Agnes McCallister. The destruction, of course, was total. All correspondence should come to our attention. If you should attempt to reach Miss McCallister at Happy Dale Sanitarium, the attendants have instructions to shoot you on sight. With this letter, please find attached a warrant for your arrest.


Twelve Days of Christmas / Part One

We've all heard it and sang it, but what are the consequences of these gifts?

December 14th

Dearest John:
I went to the door today and the postman delivered a partridge in a pear tree.
What a delightful gift. I couldn’t have been more surprised.
With dearest love and affection, Agnes.

December 15th

Dearest John:
Today the postman brought your very sweet gift. Just imagine, two turtle doves…
I’m just delighted at your very thoughtful gift. They are just adorable.
All my love, Agnes.

December 16th

Dear John:
Oh aren’t you the extravagant one! Now I must protest. I don’t deserve such generosity.
Three French hens. They are just darling but I must insist … you’re just too kind.
Love, Agnes

December 17th

Dear John:
Today the postman delivered four calling birds. Now really!
They are beautiful, but don’t you think enough is enough. You’re being too romantic.
Affectionately, Agnes

December 18th

Dearest John:
What a surprise! Today the postman delivered five golden rings. One for each finger.
You’re just impossible, but I love it. Frankly, John, all those squawking birds were beginning
To get on my nerves.
All my love, Agnes

December 19th

Dear John:
When I opened the door there were actually six geese a-laying on my front steps.
So you’re back to the birds again, huh? Those geese are huge.
Where will I ever keep them? The neighbors are complaining and I can’t sleep through the racket.
Cordially, Agnes

The drama continues in Part 2


Saturday, December 18, 2004

Not-So-Jolly Saint Sick

If you can infer from that title, I went Christmas shopping today.

That's right; I drug(dragged)(whatever) my sick self out of the house and drove into downtown Mobile, with my wife, and for a few hours spent some money on the kids for Christmas.

Now, I'm not saying that was the smartest thing I have ever done, but at least I got some of it done.

It was busy everywhere(DUH!) and the traffic was terrible(Double-Duh!), and now I feel like I've been ate by a bear and s**T over a cliff, but you can't say I ain't a good dad. Stupid...yeah. Still sick...yeah. But, at least my wife didn't have to do it all by herself, like last year.

Just for the record, we had a budget for each kid, and they pretty much got what they wanted, and we are still under budget. Granted, I may spend twice that, if and when I call the EMT's to cart my sorry sick self away; but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. (Geez, whoever came up with THAT line, needs to be shot)

I just hope I'm alive, when they open their presents on Christmas morning. If I die from this "crud", that would really suck.

The preceding rant was brought to you by a real whiner when he's not feeling well


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