GIDDY-UP PARDNER

Whee.

The good part is ... I am OUTTAHERE at 3:00 to go DJ a party at a college in West Alabama.

If you go to a college in West Alabama and there's a big party on your campus tonight, and there's a DJ standing up there looking dog tired and bored wearing a Hawaiian shirt and several leis, hoping that some young girls come up and say "I wanna get leid!" so he can squeeze their boobies ... say hi.

'Cause it's me, doofus.

One guy KEPT asking for country music though.

At my club, I play anything and everything. I hate being tied down to one format ... rock, country, hip-hop, blues ... etc.

If the crowd is a rock crowd I play rock.

Et cetera once again.

And I'm not sure if I've ever touched on this before here ... but I've got a hangup about country music.

I like the classic country okay.

"King of the Road", "He Stopped Loving Her Today", "Your Cheating Heart".

That's ... ummmm ... okay.

It's not something I listen to in the car or around the house. But if I have to listen to country, I prefer the old stuff.

And here's the reason why.

And this is bound to piss country fans off.

But I've got this stigma where I think that all country music stars and their fans ... well ... I think they all smell like horse shit.

I guess it's psychological and springs from my childhood.

I was taken to a rodeo when I was a small child and everyone was wearing the big 10-gallon cowboy hats.

And the place reeked of animal feces.

So now when I see a 10-gallon cowboy hat ... or hear somebody yodeling ... my brain triggers a horse-shit stench in my head.

Now ... I know that the majority of country music stars and their fans don't smell like horse shit.

But when I look at a photo of Garth Brooks or Alan Jackson ... I can't help but to think that they're wearing boots that are crusted with horse shit.

Yep. I smell shit.

Oh man. An amazing stench with that one.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Double shit. Shit. Shit. Holy shit. Shit and shit.

Am I the only one that looks at these pictures and imagines this?

I'm not, am I??

Once again, I apologize to any die-hard country music fans that may be reading this today.

But before I apologize, do me a favor.

Sniff yourself.

Sniff your armpits, hands and feet if you can reach them.

Ummmm ... do you smell any shit??

Anything???

Hmmmmm...

Okay ... lift up your left breast and scoop out some of that sweat funk that you've been missing in the shower for the last few months.

Does THAT smell like shit??

Hmmm.

Maybe I'm wrong then.

But this stigma isn't going away anytime soon.

I'll probably always believe that if I ever plunk down $15 for a Gretchen Wilson CD, I will automatically lose the mental mechanisms required to wipe my own ass on a permanent basis.

I never said I was mentally stable, folks.