"Never play a note you don't really mean!"

The Sheriff is always workin' on new material. He will go to extremes to come up with a new blues tune. See if you can top this one.

Out here on the ranch (I really DO own a ranch), we burn about four cords of wood every winter. We buck up windfall trees and split'em for firewood. Sounds cool, but it's a lot of work. It's so much work that it interferes with all the other work that has to be done out here.

Enter the 26-ton log splitter.

So there I am single-handely splitting up my four cords of firewood using the 26-ton log splitter. I feel pressure on my left index finger. The pressure rapidly increases, and I realize that I am crushing my own freakin' finger in the log splitter. Shit!

I reversed the motion of the log splitter to free myself. When I pulled my bloody hand from my glove, there were five fingers still attached, but the index finger was like twice as wide as any of the others. It looked like a stomped-on cherry tomato.

Lemme tell ya, I invented a whole lot of new swear words, and none of 'em did anything to stop the pain. To hell with the pain! All that profanity was directed at ME for being such a stupid fool!

Mrs. Sheriff hauled my sorry ass off to the emergency room, where they stitched me up and send my bloody ass to the drug store for meds and first aid supplies.

All I can say is that I'd better get a blues song out of this or I'll be really pissed.

There are many great blues songs about women. Wild women. Big-legged women. Hard-headed women. Whiskey-drinkin' women. Mean women. Pretty Women. Jealous women. Cheatin' women. Young women ("She's sixteen years old...") You know what I mean.

I never found one that saluted the character and spirit of a strong, loving woman of commitment. Maybe the subject isn't as dramatic as a pretty, young, big-legged, drinkin', cheatin', mean-spirited babe.

Well, I have to tell you that I have had the privilege in my life to know a number of women who are can be counted on to be there when the goin' gets tough... and the goin' always gets tough.

This song is about one of them.

I am frequently asked "Are you a REAL sheriff?"

Well of course, I'm a real sheriff. I am the Sheriff of Blues County so EVERYONE is in my jurisdiction!

The Sheriff is on patrol at all times. Be aware that in Blues County you can be cited for failing to disturb the peace or being on your best behavior.

Long ago in a place far away, I volunteered to produce the monthly newsletter of my local blues society. It was a tough job made tougher by a considerable amount of chaos near the publication date each month.

After the first couple months of chaos, I determined that we needed a monthly schedule with deadlines in order to reliably meet our publication date. Nothing revolutionary in that.

To my surprise, the Board was very concerned that we would not be able to enforce such deadlines. Without thinking too much about it, I threw off the flip remark "just tell'em there's a new sheriff in town."

Well, thereafter my "blues email" messages were addressed to "The Sheriff." It's kinda gotten out of control, hasn't it.

When The Sheriff was coming up, there were the Kings of the Blues. B.B. King, Albert King, and Freddy King. All truly Kings of the Blues.

Then there were the Queens, Crown Princes, Dukes, and Counts. What's a white boy with a guitar to do? It looks like we're down to mere constables.

Thus was born The Blues Sheriff.

As you know, B.B. King named his guitar Lucille. Albert named his Lucy. Clapton had Blackie. There are any others who did the same.

The Sheriff had to come up with something different. Well, how 'bout naming two guitars? Name two guitars! Alright! Yeah, that's the ticket!

So I call 'em "blues angels." Well, that's what I call 'em in public. In private, I call 'em "blues sluts" - just like me. They dig it!

Here are some nude photos of Pretty Woman and Caledonia:

Pretty Woman	Caledonia

Back when The Sheriff was still a trainee at the Sheriff's Acadmy, he wanted be be a rock musician. It was the sixties and there was stuff GOING ON! Who didn't want to play rock music, right?

Then one day, his roomie came home and said "Hey Sheriff, you've GOT to hear this!"
It was a live B.B. King album...

GAME OVER!

On the road to rock, a bluesman is born.