Rock was a hybrid. Kelt music became Appalachian. Slaves heard that. Had no instruments. Variated their voices. Black Gospel. Poor southern whites with no money for organs & stuff had a similar sound without the variation. Country made their own instruments. Eventually the blues did the same. I made a guitar out of a cigar box once. But I’m a drummer. Great on the piano. But I love the drums. I rock on them. Rock a Billy. Blue grass. Blues. A lot of country. Black & white Church music. Enter Sam Phillips. He tinkered with sounds. In walked Elvis who had combined all of that in a raw form. He sent Elvis off with a guitarist who was experimenting too. Rock & Roll was born. Oh yeah. But Sam had a problem. He was from the poor south. The north had held all power since winning the Civil War. He had to sell Elvis. He gave us early Cash; Orbinson, & others. He should have been filthy rich. But it was hard to get whites to listen to blacks then. And big white radio stations up north didn’t want to play white southern music unless they owned it. So he sold Elvis. But here’s a problem with white men. No offense. They can’t stick to a sound. They put out some wild stuff. Then they start experimenting. Putting in old 1800’s instruments. The Beatles going to India then breaking up. They can’t just stick to a sound we like. Take Mike Jackson. Yes I started hating him too once I finally accepted he was a child mollestor. Before that I loved him. Darn it. Him & Fat Albert Jello Bill Cosby. He seemed such a good man. SOB drugged & raped women. Monsters. Mike even made a late video. He’s a kind mayor (fake him); & a demon (real him) fighting. This is him telling you the truth. That was him. The showman dancing for $. The boy who’d been mollested by his dad mollesting others himself. Sad. But sick. When you grow up; unless your mentally impaired, you choose what you are. I was mollested. I protected others. I didn’t become evil. Back to the point. Up north the radio stations & record labels didn’t like dealing with southern white men. Wanted to play with their sound. Wanted to be paid. Elvis became bigger than them. Went off & made movies. So early on they realized something. They could drive around looking for inner city blacks singing over trash cans. They signed them to one way contracts. Told them how to sing; dress, dance. What to sing. Dance for me. Here’s some peanuts. Exploitation. White people could have sang any of that music. But blacks would keep following orders. For little money. Annoying. Fast forward. Rap was the same way at first. Music industry owned the acts. They worked cheap. So record labels & radio stations just trash cans a lot of great acts & great music. We had Oz. Billy Idol. Madonna. Prince. R&B. Rock. Pop. Heavy Metal. Punk. Jazz. It was a great time. Then it just stopped. Late 80s. Early 90s. Radio went dead for many of us. Every channel you turned to was terrible rap music. No singing talent. No musical talent. Complete crap. I can beat box & rap. But I don’t want to. You cant dance to that mess. Can’t romance ladies. Can’t lift weights to it. Just some untalented whiners. I filter out a little of it. But I just kept listening to my old music. Country became like early rock with a country twang. So I listened to that. There was a long stretch of low quality music. I filtered out a little. Hip hop mostly. And country. Gonna make you sweat. Rock on the radio. Firehouse. Good vibrations. But young people have come around. There’s good music again. It’s funny. My kids & I used to do the new dances together before the divorce. We’d line up & get our groove on. You’d have to see it. I’m this big Hulk. So are my kids. We’d put on Hannity? What is love. Step dance (that’s the term? I’m sleepy). Any ways we would nail every move. My autistic son is a little robotic. But he still rocks. He’s taken martial arts since 3. Strong as an ox. One day we joined a new Dojo. My other kids weren’t in it yet due to sports. Some college & high school kids laughed at him. He is a sweet heart. Some were cheap shot him early on. So when his billy bad brother & sister showed up one day I said oh yeah. Time to unleash the hounds. I asked the senior black belt if they could free style spar. See what everyone had. My youngest two started way laying people twice their age. This made some of the 16-25 yr olds mad. They started trying to play rough. My 13 yr old girl & a 6’2” 18 yr old went at it. I told the masters to let it go. Turned into a fight. Pounding each other. She ran & kicked him right off the ground. He landed hurt & whining. I had to drag her off the mat or she’d beat him unconscious. My kids are super strong & fast. Very skilled. Well eventually the bad blood built up. That was fine. I wanted my autistic to spread his wings. This was a combat type dojo. MMA type stuff. A main style with a lot of cross style stuff. My kind of fighting. My style is a lot like Joyce Gracy & Ken Shamrock; only with super human reflexes; speed, & power. I have to be real careful sparring or I’d kill people. In martial arts at 15 I got mad one time. Grabbed a grown man with one hand & threw him off the Matt for sparring dirty. Bounced him off a wall. He was out hurt for weeks. I have to be very careful how I play with others. Had teach my kids the same. Well one day in the dojo they were going at it again. Trading partners. My 11 yr Old was going at it with a large 16 yr old. The 16 year old used an illegal move. My son was fixing to go Rambo. I called him off. My 13 yr old daughter went & crushes him. Angered his large brother. So now she was going at it with a 19 yr old black belt. I told my 15 yr old autistic to come over. I said son we are super humans. Normal people can’t handle us. Today I unleash you. All clean moves. Any style you want. Challenge everyone big except the masters. That includes the adults. Save the dojo champ for last. He’s proud of all his metals. I want everyone pinned & submitted fast. No playing. Don’t break arms or legs. No choke holds. Dominate cleanly. He went out & waded thru the room like a whirlwind. First the high schoolers. Then the college kids. Then the adults. Lined up in front of big mouth. 6’ 1”. 250. Very skilled. About 25. My son pinned him fast. He wanted a rematch. Son pinned him again. Well I’d wore my wrestling shorts. I’d stripped off my sweats waiting. He got angry. Went after my son. My son slammed him like a potato sack. He got up ready to fight. I was there. I move like the wind. I said you mad little boy. Well my sons a child. You wanna play tough guy you get me. But be warned. I will break your bones. I will crush you like a bug. You wanna play. He looked at the hulk with my 6 pack & decided to STFU. Good choice. Some people only learn from pain. I announced to the room that I could take any man in the room including the masters. My autistic son would be treated with respect or I’d get on the mat. Then I set down. No more problems. Thing is I can’t always be there for him. We live in a hard hateful world. Just look at that autistic kid shot in Utah. Look at the black jogger shot in Georgia. The man choked to death. I can’t breath. The white man in Tennessee who drowned begging for help. The black woman EMT filled with bullets when she got out of bed. A dangerous world. You cant all be like me. People like me can’t always be there to protect you. Most people my size & skill aren’t nice. You must organize. Vote. Force change. Stand for each other. But don’t attack people like me. Yes we hunt. We kill deer. We eat animals. We fish. We eat gators. We eat rattle snakes & sharks. We can look scary in our camo & cowboy hats. But we become your soldiers. We protect you from the violent people in other countries who would like to destroy you. We become good cops. We are not the creatures shooting unarmed autistic kids. Or choking black men to death. We are the nice cops who help your kids. Who help you. Who will die trying to save you. We are the firemen who face death to save you. We live with horrors to help you. I have flashbacks. I’ve saved lives. But I’ve seen so much death. It’s horrible. My family has been shot on missions for you. My kids will fly jets to keep you safe. They are kind loving Christians. They have volunteered for yrs to bag food for poor children. Sang at nursing homes. Set & played games with grown mentally slow adults. One year my autistic child begged for a remote control helicopter. It’s all we could buy him. He saw a name on a tree. A teen with no family. My son gave him his only present he got that year. I said son were in debt. That’s all you get. He said that’s OK. That boy doesn’t have people to love him. He needs to know Jesus loves him too. I’ll just fly my old plain you gave me. We serve you. We risk our lives for you. Sometimes we die for you. Soon one of my kids will be in uniform for you. They may not come back. My youngest will follow. Already in ROTC. I’m just glad I got one of my Special Forces relatives to talk him out of that. He’s too gentle for that. You’ve got to be willing to go stone cold for that. I’ve cut a deers throat. I’ll pick up a snake. Bite off it’s head & drink it’s blood. I’m made for that stuff. My kids are too gentle. Too much city in them. That’s good. I wanted them to play sports in college. Be engineers. But my wife divorced me. Now all the plans are out the window. Instead of hitting home runs & winning races they are going to fly fighter jets. I thought I could break the cycle the military has had on my family for long before they reached America. Oh well. It’s weird being American. Who am I? Who are my people?