Celebrity Poster!

Well Hello Ross

and everybody else who is a Flogger. . . (Is that the way to say it?) Oh well, imagine my surprise when we, my whole family were together from several states meeting in San Diego for my oldest sons wedding. (His 2nd one).

My granddaughter and I sitting at the computer playing around when she Googled my name and somehow up came this Flogging site. (I said Flogging, that's even better then Freeken.)

She started screaming and laughing and it brought the whole family in to read all about me. Yeah, me! There were people talking about me on the net. You all with your comments gave us such a great time that night as we laughed and laughed at them. A good time was had by all.

My daughter, Tammy Sue, who be now refer to as Heidie, (is that how its spelled?) because one of you floggers said that's who she should be. She filled out the form and done what ever you do to get on there to be a flogger too. She did it so she could contact you letting you know we were onto you and your flogging comments.

If you've heard her sing with me you know she has a voice thats pure; Course I'm not sure you guys like pure. Now that totally blows my mind. What are we coming to if we have generation who doesn't like pure, clear, clean voices and songs you can understand.

By now you've figured out I'm of an older generation. I admit a lot of the country stuff isn't that pure. I've always said of myself, I'm not a country singer; I'm a Western singer. There is a difference.

I've always commented in my concerts that a country singer sings songs like "Who stoled my Beer while I was in the mens room". Western singers sing songs like, " If my nose was runnin' money I'd blow it all on you"

(come on, thats a joke)

I told that to my wife once. I said. . . "Honey, If my nose was runnin' money I'd blow it all on you. . ." She said. . ."Yeah but its not"

SORRY, I did it again.

Ok, you want to know about me? Sure ya do.

As my one song "The Idaho Yodeler" explains word for word I was only around 11 years old. With 10 kids in our family and on a farm we entertained ourselves by listening to old 78 records one at a time on a wind up phonograph. We stood around with broom sticks, mop sticks and what ever else would resemble a musical instrument and listen to songs imitating who ever was singing and or playing.

One of us always had a table spoon that was a microphone. Taking turns with it we would pantomime or imitate who ever was singing and that person who had the spoon was the star for that song. . . .

We had a record by a singing and yodeler known as Elton Britt who sang and yodeled a song called "She taught me to yodel". It was my turn to have the spoon and imitate Elton Britt. He started singing and I sang along. When he came to the yodeling part I tried to do that and it rolled out as if I'd been doing it all my life. It was no struggle and was as easy as talking or singing. It just came out natural from down in my voice box (most people think its with the tongue, no, its back down there in the voice box). I found myself yodeling right along with the record. My brothers and sisters stopped playing the broom sticks and whatever and just stared at me not believing what they were hearing. I even stopped to see if it was me doing it.

Well I gotta find a way to end this story but it wasn't long after that my dad bought me a guitar, I taught myself a few chords and after doing a few local talent shows I got on a show called "Ted Mack Amateur Hour". The equivalent of American Idol today. Of course it was the first talent show on television which at that time was black and white. (Do you floggers know what black and white is?)

I won the show 3 times in a row, was offered opportunities to go on to what might have been big time stardom however by that time I'd joined the military and my commanding General insisted I serve my time and then pursue the big time later. I had 4 years to do. By they I'd been forgotten.

I became a police officer after the service in the military and then a narcotics officer for the State of Idaho. After a few years there I began working with drug rehab centers. Eventually I left law enforcement to become involved full time with a rehab center called "Bible Way Rehabilitation Center" in Richland Washington.

As a member of the staff of this Christian organization I started a singing group made up of several ex drug addicts. This was back in the hippie days.

Now imagine if you will. . . here is a ex narcotics officer leading a group of singers who are ex drug addicts. As we traveled around the Northwest singing up beat contemporary Gospel music in parks, beaches, conventions, schools, churches, each one in the group would between songs share how they had been on drugs and were now free and how. ( I won't go into all that except to say Jesus was involved). There were hippies everywhere and they came by the bunches to our concerts and we recruited them to follow us back to Richland where we gave them shelter, food and teaching.

It was while leading this group I started writing Gospel yodeling songs. I no anyone had ever heard of such a thing but I took the scripture where it says in Psalm 100 to "Make a joyful noise" which means make any gleeful sound. I used that as my excuse and began to sing and yodel gospel songs which became such accepted then that soon I was being invited all over the United States and Canada.

I eventually left the rehab center as invitations came from so many different places and so far away there was no way to take a whole group of 40 young people with me. A little note. . . most of them ended up in one type of ministry or another and some are missionaries. Talk about a successful rehab program huh?

So I could go on and on and tell you stories that even I have a hard time believing happened but they did but I spent the last 30 years traveling the world and not once did I ever look for a place or ask for a place to sing and share with every denomination and Christian group or organization you can name. Matter of fact I stopped counting at singing at over 6000 Full Gospel business men's Banquets.

Oh yes, I also did and do a lot of secular (That's not Gospel to you floggers)

concerts where I sing allot of the old yodeling western songs from the past plus I have written many of my own.

My career was cut short a year and a half ago as I was standing on my own lawn minding my own business when a young man with a pickup truck came across my lawn at about 65 miles an hour and hit me square. I was standing next to another pickup that kept me up or he'd have run over me and killed me but instead he turned that pickup completely around with me in between, then went on and hit a couple more vehicles. My right leg was badly smashed and after a month in the hospital getting it put together I have spent most of the time since then in therapy getting my leg to work again. I had to have the knee replaced just a couple month ago which was the last operation needed to put me back on my feet.

I have not sung or yodeled since. I am back on my feet but with a terrible limp that I'm not sure will ever go away. I still have the yodel though I'm out of practice, I can still sing but I don't know where I go from here.

I plan on going to Arizona for the winter where I have spent many winters doing concerts for the snow birds. (That's all those retired folks who go south for the winter in case you floggers don't know.) Maybe I'll get started again but for now I'm just taking it one day at a time.

I hope this hasn't been too boring and I hope its not too long. There just was no place to start or stop because there is so much more on either end of the story.

Thank you all for allowing me to share this. Go ahead and blog or flog or what ever and I will enjoy every bit of it.

You all are terrific and you made my year.

Sincerely,

Buzz Goertzen

The Idaho Yodeler

www.theidahoyodeler.com

We Have an Accord

Not an accordion (that would be polka, not yodeling), but an accord. That's right -- I'm very, VERY happy to announce that THE Buzz Goertzen has agreed (with some degree of enthusiasm, even!) to contribute a post to Flogging. . . .

What a long, strange trip it's been. Honestly, this blog was never even intended to be read, really. And then it's found by the mother of a member of a metal band, then the granddaughter of the (to my knowledge, at least) greatest living yodeler, and I can only ask myself "what's next"? And, in order to REALLY take it to the next level, I'm forced to ask . . . Dido? Are you out there? Let's hit the trifecta, baby!

But until then (and by "then" I mean "never") -- we'll be awaiting a blog by Buzz. He's busy and out of his home at the moment and so I've happily removed my one week time clock. Buzz will do what Buzz will do, whenever Buzz will do it. And that's just pretty cool with me.

Stirring Up a Buzz!

If you're new (or new-ish, even) to "Flogging. . ." you may not know the name Buzz Goertzen. Your ignorance, however understandable, must be rectified. Click here and read up on the mysterious and borderline paranormal way in which an otherwise forgettable conversation in a warehouse has exploded into a legitimate theme in my life and absolute highlight of my blog. In blog entry tags, Goertzen ranks third behind sports and general -- but he is the unquestioned number one in our hearts as well as response, reader enthusiasm, and ripple-effect into my real life, as the posts in the above link should make abundantly clear.

Now, however, the yodeling invasion has been taken to a previously un-imaginable level. In the last two days, by virtue of blog comments (read them at the bottom of the post here) and a myspace message, I've been contacted by Buzz's daughter Tammy Sue, Buzz's dragon-esque granddaughter Chelsea, and finally the Idaho Yodeler himself.

As my previous posts indicate, for a while the way yodeling was suddenly showing up in the most unexpected places in my life was equal parts amusing and disturbing, but with this newest level I'm ready to completely abandon myself to the whims of the yodel-gods with a previously un-considered recklessness. I don't know where this may take me, but I never -- NEVER -- expected to be here blogging about Buzz Goertzen and his family (!) writing about my blog. So I'm pushing my chips into the middle and I'm going to let 'em ride. Let's see what kind of level we can take this to, really. I'm making this your show, Buzz. I'm offering you -- no, I'm BEGGING of you -- to take control of "Flogging. . ." for one post. Anything at all you want to say, use this platform. I give you my word to faithfully post whatever it is that you'd like to say, complete and un-edited (assuming, of course, that you stay away from profanity and what not). I'll give you an entire week. I'm pretty sure that the readers would love to read whatever it is you'd like to share, and I KNOW it would be my honor. Don't let us down Buzz -- you're on the clock!

A Plea for . . . Rhinoplasty?

So I go to a hardcore/metal show (side note -- which is it, hardcore or metal? The answer depends on who you ask. Metal kids would call them hardcore. Hardcore kids would call them metal. I, of course, am not a kid.) in E-town on Friday night. GREAT bill -- a new favorite (A Pea for Purging), an old favorite (War of Ages), plus others. I'm there with my buddy Kyle and his 8-year old Jacob (how hardcore is that!), and we're ready to get crazy. Sure, as the token old dudes at the show "get crazy" pretty much means stand in the back and maybe head-bob, but still, we're ready.

Now -- as the old dudes, we look out of place. And it's not JUST that we have ten years on everybody there, it's that we're kind of like normal guys. Our forearms are tattoo-free, our ears don't have holes that you can see through, and our hair's the same length all the way around. I said we get crazy, right? But just because we may LOOK like rookies doesn't mean it's the case. I've been going to shows since '92, and obviously a lot of things have changed . . . but I've seen most of it happen. I have some idea how things roll. I understand pits and dancing and all that. I've even done my share, albeit not since the first Bush was in office.

All that to say we weren't taken off guard when the dancing began. Now as you might guess, this isn't "dancing" like on those tv contest shows, right? It's more like this (fair warning -- a couple of f-bombs in the song here). Anyway, the dancing started, and we all backed up . . . and up . . . and up . . . and . . . . There were like 60 people in the building -- which was a gym -- and there were about 8 people actually dancing. Which is fine, except those 8 people were given a space big enough for about 40. If we were at Keswicks, I would have had my back to the wall. If we were at the Bulldog, I would have been at the merch table. Seriously, I was about 40 feet from the band, and we were exactly 1 deep all around the perimeter. I actually thought to myself, "Why are we still backing up? How much room do they need?" I've literally been at shows with several hundred people where the dance areas were smaller. It's ironic, I suppose, that that was my last thought. BAM! Watch that video again if you want to, and check out the backward windmill action shots at 0:28 and 0:46. I took a fist flush to the nose. HARD. Hey -- it's a hardcore/metal show, and we've all taken our shots from either overly aggressive or just stupid dancers, but this bad boy was different. I felt something wet drip on my hand. I touched my hand to my face and saw crimson. Holding it to stop the bleeding I staggered to the restroom and let go of my nose . . . WHOOOOSH. Faucet, baby. I've never seen even close to that much blood come out of my body, to the point where I was a little woozy and could only half-way think straight.

For the next half-hour, let me say "thanks" to the dude who had been an army medic who helped know what was going on (seriously, I couldn't hardly think), the drummer from War of Ages for helping clean up the sink (that was cool man, but really -- it's somebody else's blood and it's nasty and you don't have to do that!), the guy who ran out to get me a bag of ice (it helped a LOT on the drive back -- really, that was huge bro), Kyle for wiping my blood up off the floor, Jacob for being cool about a ruined evening, Greg for caring enough to check in the next day, everybody who cared to ask me if I was ok (well let's see . . . I'm not dying, I have health insurance, I'm convinced that the God of all creation loves me personally, I have a ridiculously amazing wife, a church that I absolutely love, and probably the over-all best life of anybody in the building, so on a certain level I'm doing really quite well, thank you . . . but on another level, I just got blasted in the face, I've lost a sink full of blood, an ex-army medic's telling me that my nose is broken for sure, I'm going to miss the show, and all the "attention" is making me feel like a 2nd grader who fell down and skinned his knee on the playground, so on another level no, I'm not as good . . . now how am I supposed to answer the question?), and everybody who did NOT ask since I really had no good answer and honestly just wanted to be left alone.

Now the story would be a lot better if it was actually broken. Turns out it probably isn't (x-rays haven't been read by a real radiologist yet since it was the weekend). So that means that I'm just a wuss who bled like Niagara Fallls and had to leave the show (and, to follow Dr.'s orders the next day, had to sit and continue to ice it and miss a friend's wedding!) without any really legitimate injury. How lame is THAT!

As the silver lining and completely unforeseeable twist, though, check this out. Later that night I'm sitting on the couch with Laura watching tv and icing my wound. We're watching the news because I'm curious to see whether UofL was going to be able to come back and take care of Utah, and they do one of these "human interest" features on a woman who's been hiccuping for something like 20 years. Nothing will make it stop, but there is one thing and one thing only that, in legitimate fact, grants her temporary reprieve. I can't make this stuff up, y'all. Laura saw it too, and you KNOW she doesn't lie. The hiccups stop if the woman engages in . . . yodeling. Buzz, your powers clearly extend far beyond what I would have thought possible. I don't know how, but I know you have done this. There simply exists no other explanation. I used you for my own purposes, and now not only has your music taken up permanent residence in my mind, but you're drawing me further and further in to the ugly under-belly of the yodeling subculture, and now there's no escape, no surrender. Everywhere I go, when I least expect it, yodeling finds me. Like a heat-seeking missile or an IRS auditor, it just knows. It just knows.


Now quickly, since I know this was long, a word on the color change. The Phillies got swept out of the playoffs, and I didn't necessarily change out of disappointment with their play (poor though it was). They gave me a GREAT season and, sadly enough, the best post-season in 14 years. But on that same day, OU beat the team from the state to the south and vaulted back into the national championship picture. Sadly they have only two colors to play with, but Crimson and Cream it will be. Nice work fellas, VERY nice work.

By the way -- with only two colors, you'll have to move the cursor over the text to find the links. I hope you do though!

And here's my face, post-bashing/mid-swelling/under-eye-bruising:

Fate. I Blame Fate.

Life changes in many different ways. Some are dramatic, some are subtle. Some are intentional, others are purely accidental. Sometimes the results are immediate, and sometimes the larger picture becomes clear only in hindsight.

I'm not exactly sure when yodeling become legitimately important in my life, but it's now positively undeniable that it is. Yep. Yodeling.

I just spent a week in Colorado, you see, and I had many experiences. I got to spend a lot of great time with my awesome wife, and it was great. I got to connect with my old buddy Shannon, and it was great. I got to hike to Mills Lake in the Rocky Mountains, and it was ridiculously fabulous. I got to hang out for a few days at a ministry conference, and it was generally pretty lame, but I got to meet and hang out with a whole boatload of great guys, and it was great. But all of these things were, more or less, expected.

What took me completely by surprise was the entertainment one night at the conference -- the Colorado Wranglers. Now let me be honest -- I didn't thing they sounded like something that I'd be digging on. At all. And, once again, I was (mostly) dead-on. Hey -- they were good, professional, fun, cheery, etc., but just really, REALLY not my style. Until they began chatting away about some of the unwritten rules and regulations regarding being a cowboy western band. They were as follow: 1) Sing in harmony (check), 2) Have a fiddle player (I thought it was a violin, but they're the experts, and they say "check"), and 3) Have a yodeler (WHAT?!). This was shocking for a couple reasons -- 1) I thought I was the only person ever to come across gospel yodeling, and 2) it was sounding like they were going to be able to meet the criteria . . . and I was not disappointed. They did a yodeling song.

Now before we get too far out of hand, let's get a couple things straight. 1) This was NO Buzz Goertzen. As far as yodeling goes, it was pretty entry level. Now I don't think the Wranglers would mind me saying so -- I think they'd agree themselves. By no means are they a yodeling act, so much as an act that contains a yodeling piece. There's a world of difference there, kids, and we need to be sure precisely where we're standing on this stuff. 2) I didn't "like" it. As in, I wouldn't hear it and think "yep, that's some darn enjoyable yodeling right there, now!" Because it just wasn't. I don't "like" yodeling in the first place, and it was mediocre yodeling even at that. I can't stress the point too much.

Through all of this, though, I can't deny . . . it was AWESOME! Have you ever been at a sporting event and had terrible seats, but something amazing happened? You might not have really even SEEN it, per se, but nonetheless, afterwards you and your buddy are screaming and will forever tell the story about the greatest thing you ever "saw". Or how about your first date? Looking back -- and maybe even at the time -- it was more awkward than anything, and probably the "relationship" went nowhere . . . but DANG! You were with a girl! And she even wanted to be there for part of it! AWESOME!!! And so we remember this moment fondly, right? Well this was it. This was my first live yodeling experience. We'd been making eyes at one another for some time, but in the moment I was caught completely unaware, and the suddenness only added to the amazement. It really happened. I was there. I saw a dude yodel, for real. I would say it was the kind of thing that only happens in the movies, but who's ever seen a movie with yodeling?

Now I'm in too far, and I don't think there can be any retreat. I'm one of them now, you see -- I've seen too much, and if I go to the powers that be I'll be incriminating myself too. The door has been closed behind me, and the only way to go is further in. I'm a part of the yodeling culture now, and I'm only even, like, 85% unhappy about it. That little but growing piece of me is becoming more and more enamored, engaged, enthusiastic.

Now if only ol' Buzz will accept my myspace friend request . . . .

Uh, Got Any Gum?

I have no deep thoughts today.

Even worse, I have no comedy.

What I DO have, then, are just a couple random tidbits to make myself feel like I'm maintaining some sort of blogging presence:

As I said, I have no comedy today, but this guy has comedy like I could only dream of. I just recently discovered this, and I have just two words: man crush. A couple of my favorites are here and the bottom one here (Daniel Henderson on this last one, anybody?).

Whigham's just started putting video up on his blog, and it's both entertaining and disturbing. Pop on over and get to know him better . . . maybe better than you wanted!

The back-to-back Buzz Goertzen blogs? By FAR the two most-trafficked days that Flogging, But with a "B" has ever seen. I'm not sure what that says about you, but I'm sure that it says something.

Finally, Michigan has just been toppled by Appalachian State. And I guess I have just a couple quick thoughts:

1) College football is BACK, baby! Wohoo!

2) Appalachian State over Michigan? In Michigan? With a veteran quarterback, even? I'd love to sit her and write "I KNEW it was going to happen!" but I can't say that I EVER could have seen that coming. Just wow.

3) Does that mean that, in theory, OU could lose to North Texas tonight? They ARE the Mean Green, after all. I mean seriously, if they were just "Green" that's no problem. But they have chosen to specifically modify "Green" with the adjective "Mean." Now I don't know exactly how a color can be endowed with personality characteristics, but North Texas IS an institution of higher learning, and I can only assume that they're fully aware of whatever implications might be involved with having "Mean" Green as opposed to the ordinary, garden variety green. Anyway, we have a red-shirt freshman at quarterback and were ranked a bit behind Michigan in the pre-season polls, so are we, in theory, more vulnerable than they were? Is it time to worry for real?

4) North Texas has no chance, however mean they might like to consider themselves (or their green). You probably didn't read it here first, but you read it here, anyway.

5) Just by going over the box score for the Michigan/Appalachian State game, they've demonstrated one more time why I think it's stupid to go for two until *very* late in a ball game. Michigan scored late in the 3rd quarter, went for 2 (to get within three, but with a FULL quarter to play!), and failed. They scored again late in the 4th quarter, went for 2 (now to go UP by three), and failed. Then the apparently completely unforeseeable happened and Appalachian State defied all mathematical probability by *kicking a field goal?* to go up by two and win. If Michigan just doesn't jump the gun and kicks the PAT in the THIRD QUARTER, they then no doubt kick another in the 4th, and play into overtime. Do coaches not watch football? It seems like this happens to somebody every single week. *Sigh*.

Taking On a Life of It's Own

Never before have I posted two days in a row, but some circumstances demand extraordinary action. This, my friends and reader, is one of those circumstances.

You see, yesterday I thought that my previous Buzz Goertzen blog was over and done with, but that was before I checked this joker's blog and had to go change my shorts. And THAT was before I saw his link to Buzz's myspace (even that phrase cracks me up), which features the FULL streaming version of my all-time (tied, at least) favorite Goertzen classic, "Then I Start to Yodel." And really, you HAVE to listen to the full song, because as crazy and out of control as the first half seems, it actually ends with a double-time feel and . . . are those . . . harmonies? I'm not enough of a music guy to really know or pick these thing apart, but one way or another I think it's imperative that anybody who wishes to be anything remotely close to a well-rounded or cultured person have a listen.

It Must Have Been Hot That Day

Honestly, I don't remember it ever happening, but it must have. One day at work I must have told Nick about the crazy gospel yodeler that my dad used to listen to (with that kind of memory, I sure hope that I never told him about that one time when I . . .), as you can see he referenced in the comments of my last post. After seeing his comment and then wiping chunks of partially chewed meatloaf off of my monitor, I went ahead and tried to google this cat, and apparently they have the internet even in Idaho now. And I'm telling you, if you never, ever click on a link from Flogging, But With a "B" again, click on this one. Really.

My thoughts:

1) This cat is serious. He's a real, live, gospel yodeler, and he's totally into what he's doing. And it's yodeling. Can you even make a joke about that? I know my own musical taste is somewhat off the beaten path, at least for a generally well-adjusted 30-ish dude. I know there are potentially a LOT of jokes there. Well and good. But really . . . did you click the link?

2) If you listen to a bit, it's undeniable that he's really pretty amazing. Now note well that there's a gulf a mile wide and 20 miles deep between "good" and "I like it." Shakespeare In Love was "good." Modern art is "good." Not eating 3 bags of butter lover's microwave popcorn for dinner is "good." I'm just not into a lot of things that are "good." That said, after the laughter stops and you actually get through a couple clips (I suggest "Yodel Your Troubles Away," "She Taught Me How to Yodel", and the classic that started it all, "Jesus Put a Yodel in My Soul"), I think you HAVE to admit that it's kind of fascinating. Not maybe quite in the enjoyable sense, but like if you had a crazy neighbor who dedicated her life to whistling showtunes through her nose, or maybe a friend's dog that could jump rope double-dutch style. In fairness it's not quite the same as a train wreck, but there's this strange "disturbing yet amazing" phenomenon at work, right?

3) He apparently named his daughter "Tammy Sue." It's perfect. And -- oh yeah -- his name is "Buzz." This whole thing is starting to make sense now, actually . . . .

4) Why is there no clip available for "Will the Angels Yodel with Me?" Could we petition, do you think?

5) How priceless is this line: "Nothing stirs up an audience like yodeling, and no one yodels like Buzz Goertzen." Yeah, I read an arictle saying that NWA, Hatebreed, and Buzz Goertzen -- their shows are always the craziest. And, maybe almost as classic: "Buzz currently has ten albums, none of which is available in stores."

6) Buzz, if you ever google yourself (LOVE that phrase!) and come across Flogging, But With a "B," I won't deny that I do think the whole deal is pretty incredibly funny. That said, know that you yodeled me through a South Dakota summer or two in dad's Lumina . . . loudly. We laughed, it's true, but we also loved it (sort of, at least). So please know that it's all in good fun -- the kind of good ribbing that you're only comfortable giving to one of the fellas. Yodel on, my friend, yodel on.