The co-op at work had a comic from toothpaste for dinner hanging in his cubicle. I asked him where he got it, and he pointed me to the website. That's some funny stuff, man.

Turning 30 ain't so bad after all. Janelle threw me a kickass surprise birthday party on Saturday night. I played golf that afternoon with my dad, father-in-law, brother-in-law, and my soon-to-be brother-in-law. We left the course and started heading for my place when dad started making some really wrong turns.

We wound up at the surprise shindig. I was very, very surprised to say the least.

Nelle had it all planned out: BBQ, beverages, family and friends. The one thing I couldn't figure out, though, was why the DJ sucked so bad. He only played 80s stuff (Hall and Oates and Huey Lewis, mainly - the family seemed to like it), and he was there with his parents. I just shrugged it off as cost control.

But then the guy disappeared. I started to wonder where he went. That's when the theme from 2001: A Space Odyssey started playing and I knew what was up. Elvis was in the building.

The guy's name is Blaine Compton and he did a hell of a job. Phenomenal, really. He was supposed to perform for 15 minutes, but the crowd ate it up so much he went for 45 minutes. All the hits, with a few obscurities thrown in for the Elvis aficionados in the house. Dude brought the house down.

B-E-S-T B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y E-V-E-R.

Thanks, Janelle. You are the best.

Today is my 30th birthday, which brings up all kinds of feelings, namely that I am nowhere near where I wanted to be at 30. To put things into perspective, I thought I would look up a few of my heroes and see where they were at my age.

Elvis Presley
Well established at age thirty, and in the middle of a decade in which his movies grossed $130 million and his records earned $150 million. Admittedly, he was in a decline at this point in 1965, and would not make a real resurgence until his 1968 comeback.

Joe Strummer
At 30, Joe was at the height of The Clash, touring following the release of Combat Rock. Shortly thereafter he fired Mick Jones and the band began its downfall. The Clash played Shea Stadium on October 13, 1982. Strummer was 30 - I had just celebrated my sixth birthday the day before.

Johnny Cash
John was into the 4th year of his contract with Columbia Records, and had already recorded many of his legendary hits: "Hey Porter," "Cry, Cry, Cry," "I Walk the Line," "Folsom Prison Blues," and "Don't Take Your Guns to Town."

Otis Redding
Had become the legend he remains today. He never reached his 30th birthday, dying at age 26 in a plane crash.

Frank Black
The Pixies had already met their demise, and Frank was well into his solo career. He was touring behind his second album, Teenager of the Year, during the time of his 30th birthday.

John Cusack
Had appeared in 27 films by the time he was 30, including Say Anything, Stand by Me, Better off Dead, and City Hall.

Robert Johnson
Had already sold his soul to the devil and died at the crossroads.

Martin Amis
Had published the novels The Rachel Papers (1973), Dead Babies (1975) and Success (1978).

And now, finally:

Ken
Into his fourth year as a corporate monkey. Published two poems, both at the age of 23. Spent one eventful year as a high school English teacher, where he was honored as Student's Choice for Teacher of the Year and promptly quit to pursue aforementioned corporate monkey gig. Greatest accomplishment thus far has been finding his soulmate in college and getting lucky enough for her to marry him in 2003. Ken is spending his 30th birthday working and wondering if he should mow the lawn when he gets home.

When I was growing up, I always felt like I had no culture, that the country of my birth could never compare to Italy, China, Russia or really any other place in the world. I learned later that despite the young age of the good ol' US of A, we've contributed quite a bit. Admittedly, a whole hell of a lot of it is not-so-great stuff: things like Burger King, the atomic bomb, and George W. Bush.

Then I went to Memphis a couple of years ago and re-discovered the blues. I had always liked the blues, but had really never ventured past my Muddy Waters retrospective. Memphis, as commercialized as it has become, still bleeds the blues. It's palpable in the atmosphere, especially when driving around neighborhoods, thick Tennessee wind in your face, listening to AM radio. You can even find it on Beale Street, although the locals will tell you it is nothing like it used to be.

Son House's "John the Revelator" has me going tonight. Despite the fact that I couldn't tell you the last time I was in church, I have a soft spot for gospel. Especially something sung with the sheer ferocity of Son's gritty voice.

Tell me who's that writin'?
John the Revelator!
Tell me who's that writin'?
John the Revelator!
Who's that writin'?
John the Revelator
wrote the book of the seven seals.

Now that makes me feel patriotic. If I put on Junior Kimbrough after this, I might start waving the flag.