"Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses"

There was a time in my life when word spread like wildfire through the family ranks that I was into collecting clowns. Now, I had nothing against clowns at the time and it seemed like I should have a jones for collecting something, so I took the pending onslaught of clown figurines, drawings and miniature cows with the proper amount of appreciation.

After a while, though, I began to realize that I wasn't all that into clowns. Following that was an awkward conversation with several family members regarding my desire to receive gifts that were not clown-related in nature around the holidays.

My collection was abruptly halted, and eventually, the clown collection was cut down to the few pieces that I really did enjoy having around:

1. A full-color, cloth painting that scares most of my visitors, but speaks to me about a man who walks through life confused and floundering while putting on a happy face
2. A banker clown and a bum clown that both have lives beyond their make-up (I like the idea of a clown stuck in a day job or panhandling relentlessly, yearning for the freedom to just be entertaining)
3. The aforementioned cow, because it's damn funny

It's been quite a few years since I halted the influx of clown paraphernalia and I occasionally find myself searching for some other small thing I can grab on to as a means for starting a collection.

The baseball cards I poured over as a kid are sealed up in the hopes that Griffey Jr. makes the hall of fame and provides me some kind of retirement fund.

Stamps are boring and while the 50 States Quarter Collection intrigues me, I'd be hard pressed to leave twelve and a half dollars just hanging on the wall when there are so many needy gumball machines in the world.

Perhaps the strongest affectation of mine is blue pens, but I like using them, not collecting them.

The answer finally came to me at the Laundromat the other day. Somebody had left a guitar pick on the floor of the facility, and it's shiny-metallic luster mesmerized me immediately. The pick bore the image of Willie Nelson on one side, with the slogan from his 2003 Tour with Toby Keith on the other.

Now, I have no interest in ever seeing Toby Keith in concert and the lyrics to the song he did with Nelson are laughable, but I was really happy to have the pick. I quickly realized that I already have picks with images from Kiss, Tesla, and a marijuana leaf.

I have picks with different grip textures, and a clear blue one that is too flimsy for my taste as a musician, but rather pretty when you hold it up to the light.

So, I guess this is all just a long way of saying, I'm going to start a guitar pick collection. That's right, I just spent several hundred words describing a new hobby. This has to be the web-bloggiest entry yet!