How ‘Bout You?

“I know where I come from, How ’bout you?”
– Eric Church

Welcome to my blog. In other words, welcome to the revolution. There’s a new regime in town and the natives are restless. This mental revolution is many years in the making. I’ve always thought myself a good writer, a few others have even told me so and, as I pick up speed on the backside of the hill, I suppose it’s time to prove it. Or at least try and probably fail. Basically, this is the Summer of George. I’m doing the exact opposite of what I’d normally do. We’re breaking down barriers here, you and me.

I’d like to think my reasoning in that first paragraph sounds pretty good, but the reality is – I ran out of stuff to watch on Netflix. Well, I don’t really watch anything on Netflix, I spend most of my time looking for stuff to watch on Netflix while simultaneously forgetting about shows or movies I’d consider watching on Netflix. I want to to be honest here, I sometimes mindlessly scroll through Amazon Prime too. I like to think my wandering eye keeps Netflix working hard to keep their menus nearly impossible for me to navigate.

So, let’s get down to brass tacks. Why brass, as opposed to steel, aluminum or plastic, is beyond me. It’s always seemed limiting and possibly difficult to use brass tacks for most tack requiring functions. One thing I try to avoid is this: when you want to say an old-timey truism, find out what it actually means because it might be stupid. Then, when someone says the old-timey truism, you can knowingly smirk and call it a lie-ism or something. So here’s brass tacks: “The phrase get down to brass tacks (not brass tax) is an Americanism dating from the 19th century. In the idiom, brass tacks means (1) the essentials, or (2) the basic facts, so to get down to brass tacks is to focus on the essentials”.

I know that – everyone knows that. I do find it interesting that they had to differentiate brass tacks from the brass tax. All I can see is this now:

Well, that picture or possibly some other, not so famous American colonists drinking at the same bar Samuel Adams and John Hancock planned the Boston Tea Party.

Overhearing Sam and John’s conversation, Samwell turned to Aloysius, slurring, “What about us? We can get all up in rebelling against taxes. We can’t do tea, that’s a little predictable and totes pretentious. Besides those jerks Adams and Hancock are doing tea. I hate those guys. How about brass, guvnah?”

“Tis Brass; the obvious choice”, Aloysius brightly exclaimed.

Aloysius and Samwell stumbled down to the harbor and began to lift the brass-filled crates to toss in the harbor, only to realize brass is like super heavy, they were like super drunk, and war is like a super bummer. So they went home and crashed. Upon crawling out from under their grog and mead induced hangovers, they heard “Hear ye, Hear ye, Boston Tea Party guys are like super famous now. Revolution is on fleek. ‘Tis noon and all’s well except for the impending war.” That’s the 18th-century version of Twitter.

Anyway, if you really want to know more about getting down to brass tacks, here you go: Brass Tacks

Spoiler: it’s not a satisfying answer. I didn’t set out to ruin brass tacks for either of us. But I do hope you are as happy as I am the brass tax is now in your life. I’m feeling it needs to become a thing, like the iron price.

I have the attention span of a particularly unfocused gnat, so I’ll try to get back on track here. I’m supposed to be telling you why you should read this. Mostly you should read this because I’m sad. If you don’t continue to read, I’ll only get sadder. Not dangerously sad or anything, just the kind of sad where I finally committed to something on Netflix and it turned out to be quite unsatisfying. It’s not lost on me 90% of everything on Netflix is objectively terrible and I shouldn’t be surprised, but I do get mildly disappointed pretty easily. Please continue reading so I can avoid mild disappointment. Avoiding mild disappointment is the American Way and you wouldn’t want to be anti-American, would you?

Ok, I guess I’ve held off on doing any kind of writing because of both fear and success. The fear part is pretty obvious, I could be terrible and then I’d know I’m terrible. Confirmation of terrible-ness is much worse than the potential for terrible-ness. I’m likely proving I’m a terrible writer with each sentence so I guess we’ve worked through that. Thanks!

The success part, however, is less obvious. It seems most writers start out or end up on the addict side of the spectrum, especially when successful. I’ve already done a stint in rehab. (Record scratch). You were in rehab?  You seem so normal. Well kinda normal. Ok, not clinically insane. What happened?  (As Maz Kanata said, “A good question – for another time.” Which is total bullshit, because I spent like $20 to see The Force Awakens and I’m entitled to that story now. Just because you’ve invested like eleventy billion dollars and need to ensure you have enough material and interest to make back that money- you think you can set up a storyline you might forget about? And don’t think I didn’t see The Last Jedi and got even angrier. Since, ya know, you didn’t answer any of the questions posed in The Force Awakens. Well, critically astute reader, you may be asking – aren’t you doing the same thing? Obviously I am, but I’m only in it for the tidy profit of $0, in fact I’ll probably lose money on this deal. In your face, Disney).

Anyway, success is just as dangerous as failure. Actually, it might be more dangerous. Humans and prosperity often don’t mix well – just look at lottery winners and former child stars. Our base instincts are to always strive for more. Or maybe that’s how we’re raised as Americans. I’ll delve into that another time (did it again, you’re hooked, admit it). So this will be exciting for all of us. I’ve never really been successful at anything, so you can actively root for or against me. And who knows what will happen next. Maybe I’ll acquire a $500 a day heroin habit or donate half my proceeds to charity. Or maybe a $250 a day weed habit and donate all my earnings to charity. Or anything in between. Of course, it’s in the realm of possibility that I don’t acquire any additional addictions and just become a marginally better writer. But let’s not go holding our breath on that last part yet.

I’ve also written a few times for another site and all my cursin’ and adult topics were edited out. I’m not even sure I want to talk about adult topics as I’m pretty sure I don’t like talking to adults. But I am sure I don’t like being limited to one subject or not cursing. Unless a lot of kids want to get their word fix from me (and spend their parent’s money to do so). If that’s the case,  you’ll see a lot of in-depth Pokemon Go analysis and Scooby Doo and Shaggy-Will they? Won’t They? think pieces. (kids still like Scooby Doo,? And kids are still going wild for the Pokemon? Right?).

What to Expect When You’re Expecting (good writing).
The first rule of Ol’ Buschy Tales – Do not expect good writing from Ol’ Buschy Tales. I’m probably not really a good writer or thinker. Maybe I’ll get better at both. I’m not even sure what I expect from this. I even started this with a quote and don’t even remember why. Oh yea, because I was going to introduce myself with authority the way Eric Church led off his first song on his first album. Then I digressed multiple times and realized, in the beginning anyway, the people who read this are likely those who already know me.

This reminds me of the time I interviewed for a sales position with a cemetery. As with any sales position – especially stuff like insurance, financial advising, and apparently cemeteries – you start selling your family members. This is a pretty weird conversation to have when considering financial advising and life insurance, but it’s a whole ‘nother level of awkward when talking about burial plots. Adding to this, the interviewer told me that the selected candidate would also be required to knock on doors to sell services. OK, knocking on some rando’s door to sell things is pretty weird and uncomfortable for both parties – I’m looking at you Cutco (seriously door to door knife sales?) Knocking on stranger’s doors, asking “do you have plans for your death?” is one of those “that awkward moment” memes where you end up questioned for 12 unsolved murders. I’m not sure what my point was -remembering the time I interviewed to sell holes destined for lifeless husks of you and your loved ones threw me a bit off track. As it will do. So I’ll just apologize to people who know me for the redundancy. To think, I could be selling you burial plots instead of random, unorganized thoughts. Or I could be teaming up with a Cutco rep and … Well, first post and I’m already on a government watch list. This should last. Anyway, you really dodged a bullet there. You’re welcome. But if you’re not great at dodging bullets…have I got a hole for you!

I guess I really wrote this post for posterity. Years from now, people will come back to this first post in awe of how far we’ve come together. I’m picturing a scene like that erectile dysfunction commercial where the couple is holding hands in separate bathtubs. You know, this one:

Yea, yea the whole Eric Church quote. Or is it just a lyric, not a quote. Is it both? Watch this space for more answers to this and more hard-hitting questions. A little warning, Eric Church is one of my favorite singers, but this video looks like the one that played after Video Killed the Radio Star. So here’s the song:

I like how he says what he’s about and what I can expect. It’s like an executive summary and I appreciate that. I also understand the entire song is pretty much:

I was drunk the day my mom got out of prison
And I went to pick her up in the rain
But before I could get to the station in my pickup truck
She got runnned over by a damned old train

David Allan Coe

I won’t argue with you about that. But I think we can both agree it’s better than:

Hop on up in my lifted truck
Put your bikini top on and let’s get drunk
Drivin’ the backroads with no place to go
When we end up in the ditch
We’ll take the tractor hoooooome

Ol’ Buschy Tales

Seriously, I just made that up, but it sounds like every song on country radio. Maybe I’ll end up writing bro-country. A bro can dream.

So here’s a list of topics you can expect me to write about – hiking/backpacking, general outdoors, books (I read alot from different genres, it’s not all going to be hiking and strategies on hunting the most dangerous game – toddlers. Just mostly toddler hunting strategy guides), parenthood, adventures close to home, movies, unnecessary project how-tos (as opposed to life hacks for cleaning your gutters or other useful projects), and probably a bunch of other stuff. I also enjoy quotes from great men and women. That was a motivator to do this. Just maybe I have something memorable to say. Recently I bought a Philosophy 101 book. Literally called Philosophy 101. I’m not very far into it, but it helped me finally understand Plato’s Allegory of the Cave (just don’t ask me to explain it, but I toooooootally understand it) So you’ll likely be seeing a lot of freshman-level philosophy, Which, to be fair, everything I write is freshman level. High school freshman level.

Maybe I’ll get a little heavier sometimes with religion, spirituality, and recovery, but I’ll certainly warn you in advance if that’s the only topic. I also have a GoPro, so I’ll be sure to balance out heavier subjects with sick rollerblade wipeouts.

I also have no problem writing or talking about my mistakes. In fact, this blog would last about a week and a half if I limited myself to successes. Haha, you’re hilarious and right, it really wouldn’t last a day. So, maybe you can come by occasionally and learn what not to do.

What I don’t have is a lot of dislikes, but one is politics. The only thing I dislike worse than politics is politicians. Except for the really cool ones like Teddy Roosevelt, Lincoln, Truman (Missouri pride, yo), Jackson (except for the Trail of Tears. Seriously dude?) and some others. Probably won’t hear a lot of politics here. Also, musical theater. I really don’t like that. I especially don’t like when musical theater and politics are combined. I’m looking directly at you Hamilton.

Ok, there are a lot of things I don’t like. I‘m as surprised as you are I even typed I don’t have alot of dislikes. Without a doubt, one of my biggest likes is disliking things. Not liking stuff would be my number 1 thing on Tinder. (I don’t know how Tinder works and I’m not gonna find out and I’m not gonna link it. Even if I wasn’t happily married, I fear even going to the website risks STD exposure). I’ve always hoped that someday when I walk down the street, people say “There goes Mr. Ol’ Buschy, the most curmudgeonly SOB I ever saw”. I’m thinking age 50 is the magic number. I’ll try to keep things positive for at least the next ten years. But at 49, it’s going to be all get off my lawn, ya damn kids. Until then, I promise an open invitation to my virtual lawn. But stay the hell off my real lawn, I just fertilized. (editor’s note: Ol Buschy Tales did not fertilize anything. Our, I mean, his yard looks like a scene from The Grapes of Wrath)

Who knows, maybe I’ll write the continued adventures of Aloysius and Samwell – Almost Heroes of the Revolutionary War. Or I’ll just review menus from streaming services. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe I don’t want to know what I’m doing,  I’ve just found writing is pretty therapeutic for me, whether I’m good at it or not. Plus I do like it. Even though the above thoughts are pretty benign, I get overwhelmed. What if thoughts on near-miss Revolutionary War heroes, the gritty origin story of brass tacks, or the best streaming navigation overwhelmed you? Helps to get them out on paper. First world problems, riiiiggghhhht?

And even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while, so stick around for a nut. (is that dirty?) By the way get it? Ol’ Buschy Tales.

Well, I guess I should explain that before leaving because you probably don’t get it. So, Ol’ Buschy Tales is thus named due to a nickname of mine (surprisingly not related to the fermented hop, yeast and water beverage nor the actions resulting from consumption of said fermented hop, yeast and water beverage), a nickname for squirrels (old bushy tails), and obviously stories. Just like my grandpa used to say, “nothin’ beats a good homophone”.

So Ol’ Buschy Tales are stories about a squirrely guy named Busch (I could’ve explained that much faster, but my “business plan” hinges on word count. I’m told it can be very, very, very, very, very lucrative). This squirrelly guy is occasionally bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and occasionally finds a nut. Or something. Much like torture, With Ol’ Buschy Tales; it’s just easier to bite your lip and roll with it. That’ll probably be my site description – Ol’ Buschy Tales: Marginally better than Waterboarding (but it’s debatable). And now it is.

So how ’bout you?

How ’bout you check out this site from time to time, maybe favorite it, share with your friends, apparently you can sign up for an email on the main page, or just invite me over for dinner once a month or so.

Whether you loved or hated this, please let me know in the comments. I can take it. Probably. I haven’t had a good cry since 1992, so let ‘er rip.

So, until next time, let’s all just try not to mildly disappoint one another.

An agent for tenuous stability, the man behind Ol’ Buschy Tales has spent years building his résumé through an impressive array of menial, dead-end jobs. He’s lived a life of frustration and impotence. Stay with this site and reap all the benefits. Give a follow on Facebook and Instagram, you’ll probably feel better about yourself.