Another Letter to Robin Meade

As many of you know who follow my crazy blog, I always invite Robin Meade, the perky little Newsbabe from HLN’s Morning News program whenever I play a gig.

 Not surprisingly, she missed my show at the Sycamore Springs Nursing home last week despite my invitation.

Here goes:

Hi Robin:

It is me, Maddogg. I was going to make a second drop off at the Humane Society of Greater Dayton, which I represent and raise money through charity gigs and donating my tips.

I do have a two-hour show at a little bar with a very cool vibe in the tiny town of Franklin, Ohio. It is Woolly’s Watering Hole and I will be there from 8-10 this Friday, 8/26.

Stop by and I am sure you, being a southern Ohio girl, will enjoy no shortage of gallant individuals, myself included, offering to buy you a cold refreshing beverage.

My wife will be there, so be easy on her; I told her one day you would indeed show up at one of my gigs.

She is a major non-believer.

Stranger things have happened.

Take care and if you are unable to make this event, rest assured I will invite to my next one, hopefully with a new blues band I recently auditioned for.

In the meantime, stay well.

Sincerely,

Mark “Maddogg” Diaz

Please visit my website at marksplayhouse.com

I send these to her email HLN helpdesk and I actually once received a very cordial response.

This blog will be auto-posted on midnight, after my gig, so I might be home by then.

If Robin does indeed show up, you can bet on two things: My blog will be a special one, and, the Domestic Despot will have the WTF? look on her face, whilst I will be the poor soul unable to contain his obvious glee and unbridled rapture.

Here is a song I recorded this morning:

Slow Hand

The strain was a 36.7% kick-ass Indica from waaaaay downtown.

This is looking like I am at a time in my life where all the sports heroes I grew up idolizing are dead or dying.

What a lovely thought.

My little boy Bruiser got the scare of his life yesterday, and all I could see was his long pink tongue flapping in the wind, and a look of sheer panic on his face as he was trying to haul ass so fast whilst screaming like a little girl.

It seems the neighbors’ imposing Harlequin Great Dane made a gesture to play with Bruiser, crouching to get down to his level.

My dog took this as the Final Countdown, Puppy Armageddon, and he was dead certain of his horrible impending death.

So he was GONE!

George, the bigger dog, was a softie and just wanted to play.

Not Bruiser’s finest hour.

I will let you know if I get another answer from the HLN HelpDesk like I did previously.

Stay well.

Published by maddogg09

I am an unmotivated genius with an extreme love for anything that moves the emotional needles of our lives.

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