Things You Might Not Have Noticed at This Year's State of the Union

Here's my "All Over the Map" from the 02.02.2011 issue of Arkansas Weekly:

Last week’s State of the Union from President Obama has been the hot topic with most major media outlets for the past few days. However, a very interesting aspect to any State of the Union is observing the chamber during key points of the address. For instance, take a look at some of the things I noticed during the speech.

8:03 p.m.: President takes podium, shakes hands of Vice President Biden and Speaker of the House John Boehner. Surprisingly, President Obama opens with a joke: “Forgive me for being a few minutes late, but I just flew in from Ohio, and boy, are my arms tired.” Democrats roar with laughter; Republicans not so much, but I did see Sen. Mitch McConnell crack a smile.

8:07 p.m.: After going through some recent issues that have been on the minds of many Americans, President gives a shout out to the producers of The King’s Speech for their 12 Oscar nominations announced earlier in the day. “However,” Obama notes, “I have to say that I am personally disappointed Burlesque was not nominated.”

8:17 p.m.: I notice Biden appears to be texting.

8:25 p.m.: Camera cuts to former Sen. Robert Byrd. Graphic on screen says that Byrd’s last will and testament specified that his corpse attend each State of the Union for the next five years. Sen. Leahy, sitting next to the former Senator, is covering his face with handkerchief.

8:30 p.m.: This part of speech is dragging a bit. I see some members of Congress yawning. Speaker Bohener stands and stretches. Pulls out some nunchucks, practices a bit.

8:36 p.m.: Now the mystery of who Biden was texting earlier is solved. Dude from Domino’s delivers a box of pizza. Obama, looking slightly irritated, says: “Uh, Joe, I hope you ordered enough for everyone.” Chamber roars with laughter.

8:40 p.m.: Oh wow! The guy with the rainbow wig and John 3:16 sign is sitting next to Sen. Schumer. Where has he been lately?

8:42 p.m.: Uh-oh. A pair of panties is thrown on podium. Secret Service agents immediately tackle the culprit: former Speaker Nancy Pelosi. First Lady looks very upset. Stands up in her box and starts yelling to Pelosi: “B****, you wanna a piece of me?!?”

8:43 p.m.: Things seem to have calmed down. Interesting to note that when Pelosi was being escorted out of chamber, Biden looked at her, put his pinky and thumb to his face, and mouthed, “Call me.”

8:47 p.m.: President utilizes Speaker Boehner’s career as an example of fulfilling the American dream. Biden tries to stifle laugh every time President says “Boehner” but fails.

8:47 p.m.: Well, it's over. Pretty decent speech. However, the last part where President said, "Oh, and by the way, I'm the Antichrist!" seems to have shaken up a few folks. Personally, I think he was joking. But his eyes turning black and the forked tongue slithering out of his mouth were great special effects!"

Mr. Blanston Returns for a Visit with Rob

Here's my "All Over the Map" for the 01.29.2011 issue of Arkansas Weekly:

Regular readers of this column know that my role model, as well as best friend, is the acclaimed journalist, celebrity and all-around raconteur, T. Blanston, Jr. T., as most of you will remember, has traveled all over the world – sometimes in dangerous and war-torn areas -- in pursuit of groundbreaking stories. Many of these stories have resulted in the exposure of scandalous crimes and regime changes, as well as numerous awards for T. They’ve also allowed T. to maintain the life of a jet-setting playboy who never met a beautiful woman (or a fine whiskey) he didn’t like.

When T. is not globetrotting, he spends time on his gorgeous property, Rancho Paradiso, which overlooks “Loch Greers Ferry.” There, T. enjoys entertaining friends who will fly in from all over the world. I can tell you that I recently attended a dinner party at Rancho Paradiso that included such guests as former Clinton adviser Vernon Jordan; pro tennis star Roger Federer; celebrity couple Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban; legendary actor Sir Anthony Hopkins; talk show host Jimmy Kimmel; Playboy model Holly Madison; business leader extraordinaire Warren Buffett; music legends Kid Rock, Willie Nelson and Tony Bennett; and the wacky and acclaimed comedian, Gallagher.

(Side note: That particular party went swimmingly until Gallagher sledgehammered a watermelon all over Sir Anthony. I must say it was quite the sight to see Jordan and Kid Rock hold the comedian while Hopkins took the sledgehammer to Gallagher’s knees. The screams were probably heard in Prim. And, don’t worry, Gallagher is fine. Buffett paid for the new kneecaps.)

He's fine. Don't worry.

Yesterday, I ran into T. at a reception in Little Rock honoring the former Arkansas Democrat-Gazette editor John Robert Starr. The conservative Starr was unable to attend since he died almost 11 years ago, but he was there in spirit via a large painting of the journalist that depicted him shirtless and holding what appeared to be Bill Clinton’s head.

And it was there, as I stood admiring the portrait during the reception, that T. found me.

“Rob,” T. said as he walked up with a whiskey on the rocks in one hand and a Dunhill cigarette in the other, “tell your daughter I ran into Justin Bieber at the Golden Globes last week, and I’m convinced he’s the next Leif Garrett! And I mean that in a good way – not in a Celebrity Rehab way!”

Likely the most underrated video of all time. Watch and luxuriate in the aura of Leif.

We laughed and ventured over to some comfortable leather chairs to briefly visit.

“T.,” I said, “tell me what’s going on in your world.”

“Rob, I just returned from the small eastern European country of Slatvikia where I uncovered a horrible underground subculture that is slowly going mainstream. Apparently, poodles are being hunted for their fur that is then sold on the international black market!”

“That’s terrible,” I said. “And I don’t even like poodles.”

“I know. I know. But I will admit that when I was dating a supermodel I met in Berlin, I bought her a poodle fur stole that felt remarkable.”

“Well, we can’t be politically correct all the time,” I noted. “I once wrote a column advocating the industry of raising poodles for the pet snake market, and I caught all types of hell.”

T. shook his head.

“You would think that in 2011 people would be acceptable to fully nourishing the millions of pet pythons and boa constrictors of the world. Studies have shown that frozen rats are low in the nutrients most reptiles need.”

“Playing devil’s advocate,” I said, “wouldn’t some call you a hypocrite? Here you are exposing the terrible practice of killing poodles for fur, yet you’re condoning poodle farms for snake food.”

T. held up his hand.

“I hear your point,” he said. “However, I think we all can agree that killing an animal for one’s fashion style is horrible, correct? But a pet snake eating a poodle is simply part of nature. Snakes in the wild eat dogs, cats, swine and the occasional unfortunate Brazilian Pygmy. Think of the jobs that could be added if poodle farms started popping up across the state. And I believe you share with me the view that this would solve the growing problem of undernourished pet snakes that’s sweeping across the country, if not the world.”

“It is troubling,” I said. “I was thinking about purchasing a boa constrictor for my kids, and I certainly would want the reptile to be healthy in the long term.

“Changing the subject, how is everything else going in the world of T. Blanston, Jr.?”

The future Mrs. Blanston?

“Well, I’m currently dating most of the Jersey Shore girls, but I’m also secretly courting Betty White. I’m trying to keep that quiet. Snooki found Betty’s bra in my suitcase one night, and she went nutso. I’m telling you that situation is a catfight waiting to happen.”

“Betty can throw down,” I said. “I’m sure you’ve heard the legendary story about the time she slugged Ed Asner.”

Former victim of Betty White's five fingers of death?

T. nodded and finished the whiskey.

“Rob,” he said as he stood, “the well is dry, and I must replenish. How about I call you this weekend? Snooki and Jwoww are jetting in from the shore, and I have the rap group Insane Clown Posse flying in from Michigan. Should be Jell-o shots galore.”

“I’ll be there!”

ICP baby! Pass the Faygo!

I shook his hand and watched him head to the bar. And it was then I realized he had not been wearing any pants.

There’s only one man who could get away with such a bold fashion statement, and his name?

T. Blanston, Jr.

Insane Clown Posse. No snarky remark is necessary.

Next Week's "All Over the Map"

Here's my "All Over the Map" from the 01.12.2011 Arkansas Weekly:

Hello. I’m Rob Grace, and today I’d like to discuss proper topics of conversation if you happen to find yourself in a rural Arkansas bar.

I should note that I’ve never actually been in a rural Arkansas bar. Some of my friends have, and they’ve all warned me to never walk into such an establishment – particularly if I’m wearing, say, a scarf or my SpongeBob t-shirt, and/or I have lots of “product” in my hair.

“The place will just go silent when you walk through the door looking like that,” a pal once said to me. “Trust me, every eye in the bar will be coldly fixed on you, and the next thing you know, we’ll start finding pieces of Rob scattered throughout a nearby soybean field.”

So, in the interest of some of my fellow semi-metrosexuals as well as other men who might like to hunt but still hum along when a Lady Gaga song comes on the radio, I offer this handy guide of what not to say in a rural Arkansas bar.

What not to say in a rural Arkansas bar -- example #1: Excuse me, fella. But, it smells like you use Axe Dark Temptation shower gel, too!

What not to say in a rural Arkansas bar -- example #2: You guys mind if we change the TV? There’s a Project Runway marathon on Lifetime.

What not to say in a rural Arkansas bar -- example #3: You boys like my Tennessee Vols t-shirt?

Except for what appears to be a full set of teeth, the thing above is your typical Tennessee Vols fan.

What not to say in a rural Arkansas bar -- example #4: Hey guys, if I ever form a dance group, I’m gonna call it Sparkle Explosion!

What not to say in a rural Arkansas bar -- example #5: Spanky, I’ll take one Sex on the Beach. And be sure you put one of those cute umbrellas in it.

What not to say in a rural Arkansas bar – example #6 (after the guy sitting next to you shows you a picture of his wife): Oh, I know her! Is her belly still pierced?

What not to say in a rural Arkansas bar – example #7: Seems like I read somewhere that during World War II John Wayne dodged the draft.

What not to say in a rural Arkansas bar – example #8: You boys say hello to my new Justin Bieber action figure.

What not to say in a rural Arkansas bar – example #9: What do I think of Sarah Palin? You mean that moron from Alaska?

What not to say in a rural Arkansas bar – example #10: Spanky, if you don’t mind, turn down GAC. Thanks. Guys, hello? If I could have your attention, please. Thank you. Gentlemen, I know you don’t know who I am, but if I could take this opportunity to talk to all of you about something I truly believe will change your life for the better. Who here has heard about the wonderful benefits of Scientology? Raise your hands.

I may not believe in Xenu, but you got to admit, Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard had style!

What not to say in a rural Arkansas bar – example #11: You boys like my new Hello Kitty fanny pack?

What not to say in a rural Arkansas bar – example #12: Excuse me, but has anyone ever told you two that, except for the camo and beards, you guys are dead ringers for Siegfried & Roy?

What not to say in a rural Arkansas bar – example #13: You like who? Johnny Cash? He’s a popular rap star, isn’t he?

What not to say in a rural Arkansas bar – example #14: Is it me, or does this camo make my butt look big?

And for example #15, never – ever – say this in a rural Arkansas bar – particularly if this bar is within a 45 mile radius of Batesville or Newport: Actually, I really enjoy those columns Rob Grace writes. He seems quite intelligent.

"And after Rob saw this, the idea for Sparkle Explosion was born!"

This Week's "All Over the Map"

Here's my "All Over the Map" from the 01.05.2011 issue of Arkansas Weekly:

With the new year, I’ve decided to worry about a few things.

2012 will be here before you know it, and if the Mayans and John Cusack are right, the world will experience a smorgasbord of massive calamities – floods, earthquakes, hurricanes, a possible new Kardashian reality show. I mean, it could get that bad.

In all honesty, I really don’t think the world will end in 2012. No, the end of the world should occur sometime in the 2040s when one of Jon and Kate’s satanic brood is revealed to be the Antichrist.

Besides, my concerns aren’t that apocalyptic; they’re simply on a much smaller scale.

For instance, my daughter will be 16 in 2011, and this means she will be able to drive without her mother or myself sitting next to her, digging our fingernails into the dashboard while also, at least in my case, testing the control of my bladder restraint. I’m thinking of having the mayor of Batesville install electronic signs throughout town that will flash warning lights whenever her vehicle is within 500 yards. This will, I hope, give other motorists time to get out of the way.

There’s also the continuing (and troubling) infatuation she has with pop star Justin Bieber. In fact, she told me this afternoon that she wants to purchase a life-size cardboard cut-out of Mr. Bieber.

“That’s creepy,” I informed her. “You’re going to wake up in the middle of the night, and he’s going to be standing over your bed.”

“Oh no, father,” she said. “Justin’s cut-out will be sleeping beside me in my bed.”

See what I mean? I should be concerned, shouldn’t I?

I have some worries about her brother, as well. Apparently, he’s very close to owning just about every video game that has been produced by the United States of America. I’ve heard stories of people so obsessed with playing video games that they forget to do normal everyday things – like eat. Of course, I’m one to talk. Every time there’s a What Not to Wear marathon on TLC, I completely forget to do the basic things like eating, grooming or getting out of bed to use the bathroom. But, hey, that’s why they invented things like Depends, right?

Speaking of the bathroom, I’m beginning to worry that the ring around my toilet is actually moving at times. When I’m shaving in front of the mirror, I swear I can see the ring behind me slowly creeping toward the rim. Yet when I quickly turn around, it instantly zips back to the water’s surface.

I’m concerned about the state of country music. When the Arkansas 103.3 KWOZ afternoon guy, Ken Loggains, says on-air, “Coming up, a little bit of Reba, some George Strait, and Gwyneth Paltrow…,” you know something isn’t right. Or maybe I should just be concerned about Gwyneth Paltrow.

Finally, I’m concerned about my taste in music. Ever since I took over programming the music for W.R.D. Entertainment’s Top 40 station, 99.5 Hits now, I’ve noticed I’m listening to people like Bruno Mars, Nelly, Neon Trees and other artists people over the age of 40 aren’t supposed to listen to. It’s scary that I’ve listened to the new Kanye West album more than the latest Springsteen release. It’s also scary that, unbeknownst to my daughter, I’ve actually been enjoying some Justin Bieber music as well.

See. I should be concerned, shouldn’t I?

"All Over the Map" from 12.29.2010

Still playing catch up, here's my "All Over the Map" from the 12.29.2010 issue of Arkansas Weekly:


And so we say goodbye to 2010.

I really have no beef with 2010; with the exception of all things Kardashian, it’s been a pretty decent year. The economy shambled a little bit in the positive direction. Unemployment in the area dropped below the national average. And David Hasselhoff’s new realty show was canceled after two episodes.

The latter event unequivocally proved The Man Upstairs really likes us.

Of course, there is still the matter of the aforementioned Kardashians. Why, as some theological professors and religious leaders have likely pondered, is the world still subjected to this group of no talent, obnoxious plastic buffoons? I’m still waiting for the episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians where the youngest, 13-year-old half-sister Kylie Jenner, goes on a drunken rampage after a botched Botox session.

In fact, while we’re at it, let’s give each member of the Kardashian clan a looksee, shall we?

First up, the three stooges of vapidity: Kim, Khloe and Kourtney. Kim, of course, is best known for a sex tape that “leaked” with a fourth-class rap star named Ray J. (Here’s something about celebusluts that might surprise you: When a sex tape is “leaked” in the celebuslut world and the celebusluts performing in the tape are “shocked” that the tape somehow ended up on the Internet, it’s a fairly good bet that the celebusluts in question were in on the thing all along in hopes of getting a fix of the much-needed publicity they crave like a vampire craves blood.) Kim is also known for having a posterior roughly the size of a Hyundai.

Khloe is best known for marrying Los Angeles Laker Lamar Odom. Khloe is the tallest of the Kardashian sisters, and as such, somewhat resembles a flamboyant gay Sasquatch. The oldest, Kourtney, is in my opinion, the most stable and prettiest of the older sisters, but she is saddled with who may be the most obnoxious boyfriend on the face of the Earth – Scott Dick. Oh, wait I’m sorry. Scott Disick is his name. My fingers mistyped. Oops. Disick is best known for a drunken temper tantrum, in which he tried to shove money down the mouth of a waiter who shockingly didn’t treat Dick – oops, there go those fingers again – Disick like the prince he believes he is.

There’s another half-sister, Kendall, who’s in high school and likely on the same Hell-bound path of her sisters, and then there’s the brother, Robert, who, like big sis Kourtney, seems to have a bit of rational thought now and then. However, I sometimes wonder if Robert feels left out for not being named Krobert.

Finally, there’s the parental unit: Kris and her second husband, former Olympian Bruce Jenner – the enablers of the family. Actually, Jenner sometimes acts as if he has possession of some common sense, yet in the last few years, he’s been going under the knife at the urging of Kris and the girls, and as such, looks like a 61-year-old white Michael Jackson had Jackson lived to that age. Recently, he also did the cheesiest thing a 61-year-old man could do: He pierced both of his ears. Look, have we not learned anything from Harrison Ford? Unless you are Keith Richards, Bono, Morgan Freeman, Bruce Springsteen or Willie Nelson, then no man over the age of 35 should have his ear or ears pierced.

So, thanks to the E! cable channel, we can ponder the purpose of this family that revels in all things insipid, decadent and Botoxed while being paid millions of dollars. Personally, I think God has them around as an example of what we should aspire not to be.

And I’ll admit it. I, in a small way, contribute to the lifestyle of the Kardashian clan. Every time I come across their show on television, I can’t look away. It’s like a kar krash with kompletely inkompetent kelebrities known for kelebrating kheesiness.

"All Over the Map" Ketchup

The holidays have had me running behind, so here's my column from the 12.22.2010 Arkansas Weekly:

Tis the season for Christmas parties, and here at the W.R.D. Entertainment offices, we’ve been having a Christmas party every morning.

They’re nothing fancy or elaborate; someone simply volunteers to bring some Christmas goodies to munch on in the morning and through the day. So far, we’ve had delicious dips, muffins, cakes and chocolate galore. Needless to say, most of the folks here at W.R.D. Entertainment put a lot of effort and culinary talent into these seasonal eatings.

Except for Rachelle.

Rachelle Howard is one of our stellar W.R.D. Entertainment account executives. She’s doing quite well at ensuring our advertising customers are receiving the absolute best bang for their marketing buck.

Thankfully, preparing a few simple Christmas snacks is not part of her job responsibilities.

Rachelle Howard. Hee hee.

This morning, it was Rachelle’s turn at bringing the food for everyone at W.R.D. Entertainment. Keep in mind that most of us here at the office skip breakfast in anticipation of filling our bellies with delectable goodies. So when Rachelle called from her car saying she needed help getting in the backdoor, we all knew that her hands were full of potentially scrumptious snacks fresh from her kitchen.

However, when we met Rachelle at the door, she was only carrying two tiny plastic grocery bags.

“What…where is your food?” I asked as she walked inside. “I thought you needed help.”

“Oh, hee-hee,” she said with a smile. Rachelle always smiles – which is sweet…I guess. “No, I just forgot my key to get in. Hee-hee.”

“But…but, where’s your food?” a fellow W.R.D. Entertainment employee asked.

“Oh, hee-hee,” she said as she held up the bags. “Here. Hee-hee.”

Through the plastic, I could see the outline of a small container of baby shrimp.

Shrimp. For a breakfast snack – a Christmas breakfast snack at that.

A small group of puzzled and hungry employees followed her to the office kitchen. She plopped the bags on the counter and pulled the baby shrimp out of one bag. Out of the other bag came a small pumpkin cream roll and a medium-sized container of tiny slices of lunch meats and crackers. Do you know those Oscar Meyer Lunchable snacks kids eat? They’re full of small round slices of meat and crackers? Rachelle’s deli meats and crackers were smaller. They were like the Mini-Mes of Lunchables.

We have roughly 25 employees at W.R.D. Entertainment. Two of our radio announcers could have eaten Rachelle’s entire Christmas snack offering in three bites. Clearly, Rachelle’s time spent in the kitchen was a big fat zero. And her time in the grocery store was just a few seconds longer.

So, Rachelle: We all love you here at the office, but you’re going to have cowboy up in the W.R.D. Entertainment potluck offerings. There are a lot of folks here who have big appetites.

Of course, I’m one to talk. I have yet to bring anything from my kitchen to a W.R.D. Entertainment potluck. It’s hard to make something out of canned ravioli, crackers, peanut butter and hummus.

Obviously, I don’t do a lot of grocery shopping or cooking.

W.R.D. Entertainment GM Gary B. gives his seal of approval for the Christmas potluck spread the day after Rachelle's.