Ok. This is an email I received from our Worthy Grand Knight in the Knights of Columbus. He is my friend and a supporter of the show. Apparently one of the Knights doesn't like me and voiced his concerns to our Worthy Grand Knight.

----- Original Message -----
From: "
To: "Eric " <>
Sent: Sunday, June 7, 2009 4:42:30 PM
Subject: Some info...

Eric, I hope I am not doing a bad thing by sending you this. I wanted to keep you in the loop on some things that were brought up to me and my responses. This is FYI only. Please know that I DO support you in EVERYTHING you do. Please keep up the good work in profession and in faith! You and your family are good friends and I will fight for all of you whenever it is needed. Let me know if something like this comes up and I will be there in a heartbeat to defend you! I have left the name out to protect anonymity. And whatever you do, DON'T STOP DOING WHAT YOU ENJOY DOING!!! Later.

Grand Knight
Knights of Columbus
Bishop Sheen Council #7487

(* original message *)
Have you ever listened to the Free Beer and HotWings show.
The only thing I can say is disturbing. To think Zane is a Eurcharist Minister and a shining member of the K of C is to equate a wolf in sheeps clothing. I have been trying for months to separate the "show" from the person but they are one in the same. For him to be on air dispensing his type of porn humor to our children is the dumbing down of our youth. I listened to Father today asking us if were Disciples or follower made me question how this man can sit in the front pew and not be here just to ridicule our religion.

Help me out brother, how am I looking at this wrong. Show me the error and help me not to become angry when I see him distributing Holy Communion....


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This is what I responded with.

Dear :

Please pass this along to the man who emailed you. This may help him understand.
Seriously, I want this guy to see this.

Let me know what you think.


Dear Sir:

Our Grand Knight passed along your concerns to me. He did not reveal who you were. I'll address your concerns line by line from your email to him.

First though, our Grand Knight tried defending me by saying I play a character. While I appreciate his efforts, that is in fact not true. The man I throw out there on the radio is also the man who attends Mass regularly. I just think that you're attacking me in an unfair way. To call what I do "disturbing" and "porn humor" may be a bit much. But whatever, if that's not your thing, then fine. I just need you to know that I have never ever tried to intentionally hurt a soul in what I do. My job is to crack jokes and try to make people smile as they do drive off to their everyday jobs. I delight in making people happy. I attack myself and my obvious flaws daily. The other members of the show let me have it the worst for the man I am. I try to take it in stride because I know when the chips are down, they'd do anything for me and I would do anything to help back.

It bothers me that a man such as yourself would take it to the level you did. You seem very judgemental. Have you been told that before by others close to you?

You said..." I have been trying for months to separate the "show" from the person but they are one in the same."

Excuse me? Do I know you? Have I ever even spoken to you? That was an ignorant statement. Perhaps you should walk up to me, introduce yourself and say "Can I talk to you about something that's been on my mind?" You'd be surprised but I would of talked to you for a long time about how I do what I do. In that time you would learn more about me and you may get a better understanding. Instead, you wasted all that time and energy getting yourself worked up about nothing. That's silly. The truth is you know nothing about me. I'm a good man with a big heart.

You said... "For him to be on air dispensing his type of porn humor to our children is the dumbing down of our youth." I think you're giving me too much credit. I make a few people laugh, but I think you're overstating things a bit here. I joke in a pg-13 fashion all the time. Hell, sometimes I do step over the line. I don't let my kids listen to my show. It's not intended for kids. Any parent that lets their children listen are making a mistake. I don't let my kids watch certain films. You know why? Because I'm a parent doing his job.

You said..."I listened to Father today asking us if were Disciples or follower made me question how this man can sit in the front pew and not be here just to ridicule our religion."

Ok. Now you're actually angering me. How dare you. You know nothing about me. You and everyone in that sacred place is a sinner to the bone. It just so happens that I am an open book. Unlike EVERYONE else. Everybody knows my sins. I'm an anger-filled addict who swears to much and mocks people mercilessly. I also care very deeply about my parish and all of the members in it. I cook funeral luncheons. I go the The Haven and cook for kids who've had some rough times. I've helped with the Tootsie Roll drives. On the radio the show has helped raise hundreds of thousands of dollars for MS, Alzheimers, Leukemia-Lymphoma, Ataxia Telangiectasia. Not to mention tens of thousands of dollars of my personal earnings to charities and the church. Who do you think you are? I can't tell you how to think but to somebody who obviously talks a good game, you've no idea what it takes to be a Christian. If you took some time and approached me like a man I bet we could of even been friends. In fact, I bet we still could. But right now I'm really mad at you over that one.

I am no Saint. I have never claimed to be. Are you? Tell me your wrongs and let me judge you. Are you up for that?

You said..."Help me out brother, how am I looking at this wrong. Show me the error and help me not to become angry when I see him distributing Holy Communion...."

I've helped you out. You are wrong and I've told you why you are wrong. Next time take care of it yourself and come see me.


Eric
H-

C -

DNF. This is what you do not want to see next to your name on the results for a triathlon or any race. DNF. Did not finish. Balls. That is what is next to my name for my latest triathlon. This one was called Johan's Trifest. It's an olympic distance tri (1,500 meter swim, 40 km bike, 10 km run) It's named after a guy named Johan Visser. I never met him but reading up on him, he's a legend who helped a lot of people with advice on triathlons and life. From what I learned he did Iron Man's all over the globe including Kona. He was diagnosed with brain cancer in 2001 and lost that fight.

So it's cool that so many people gather for this great race each year. I was one of them. I was ready to race. I had one tri under my belt and i learned a lot from the first one. I knew what to avoid to stay out of trouble. The swim started the race off at 8 AM. This time I avoided the mass and stayed wide and to the back. It wasn't long before i started passing. I got punched in the head once. Nothing major and no panic though like last time (see blog about swim during first tri). I felt great. Out of the water with a time of 26 minutes 38 seconds (62 overall out of 252 competitors). Sweet. Up the hill to the transition area. My wife and kids got me a sweet aerodynamic racing helmet. You know, the tear drop kind that makes you look like a cock. But it makes you faster. My wife and girls were there to cheer me on. Awesome. I throw on the helmet, glasses and grab my bike. Gone (third fastest transition for my age group!). The ride was a bitch. There's some good sized hills in this race. The real problem was the wind. Shit. At times I felt like I was going backward. Awful. But I soldiered on. The good part of this bike that after the long stretch against the wind and up the hills, you get to turn around with the wind at you back going in the opposite direction. Here's where you put the hammmer down. I got into the gas and was really cookin'. Every rider going that direction was effin' flying. Despite the wind struggles that would slow down my bike time, I knew I would be shaving many minutes off my time from the previous tri. After all, in that one I almost drowned from a panic attack, had to take a leak and twisted my ankle and had to limp to the finish line. This time, I had no issue with the swim and I didn't have to pee. All I had to do was run and the course was on pavement. Unlike the last race which was like running on the mother effing moon. I arrived back to the transition area. Bike time 1 hour 16 minutes 35 seconds. I'll guess that was better than 2 / 3rds of the field. Shoes on, number belt, head band, wrist band, eat Gu, drink water, gone. This transition was much slower. My ass hurt bad and I had to tie my damn shoes. Off and running down the road. About a mile into the run, somebody says "hello" to me. It's a listener of the show. His name was Matt. We talked for a bit. We offered words of encouragement to each other and then I said "I'm taking off." He said, "Good job. You're going to do a lot better than your last time." I joked back, "Yeah only if I don't twist my ankle again." I busted out the first two miles in 14 to 15 minutes. Everything's going great.

Half-mile later. "Crack!" Same ankle as last time. Down. This time on the asphalt. Road rash all over my right side. I screamed. Dear God did it hurt. Worse than three weeks ago. Same story. Other athletes ask for help, and I decline. One guy says he'll get help at the next aid station. I couldn't believe it. Something is wrong that keeps causing this to happen to me. Very upsetting. Remember that dude Matt? He wasn't far behind. He knew exactly what had happened. I knew there was no finishing this one. My day was done. I'm laying on the side of a road. Man did that suck. A nice couple riding their car down the road saw I was in trouble and drove me back to the finish line where I was helped into the medical tent. The trainer seemed to think that it was a sprain. I think he's right. Hell, I hope he is. I was in a lot of pain. He put ice on it and wrapped it. Then he cleaned my cuts and scrapes which had bits of dirt and gravel in them. While I was being treated my girls figured out what had happened and came to the tent. They felt bad for me. I felt bad. Now I'm worried that there's some mechanical or structural problem causing me to keep twisting my ankle. On the way out of the tent I came upon a person I know from the YMCA and her husband. These two win triathlons. She's a trainer and he's an expert in bio-mechanics. I told him what happened and he gave me some great advice about shoes. He said the shoes I wear were not appropriate for me because something to do with them not having good stability. He said I should be good to go with a new pair of shoes and some rest.

But it still sucks and my ankle hurts. Next race is early August. Ok. Gotta go. Thanks for reading the blog.

Eric

Hi everyone. Thanks for taking the time to read my blog. This is part three of my first triathlon. Hopefully this stuff is not boring. Let me know! I'd love to hear what you think. Please forgive my grammer and other writing flaws.

So I get off the bike and throw on my running shoes. The ride made my ass quite stiff. It hurts. I head out of the transition area and grab an electrolyte drink. Now, to me the only good ones are Gatorade or Powerade. But the dicks who organized this race have some shitty asshole stuff called HEED. HEED stands for somthing that the maker no doubt thinks is clever. It was like poison. Awful. You should "take Heed" when you drink HEED. The stuff sucks. Anyway, I start running and I hear big cheers as I head out onto the road. It's all my friends! I had no idea i would have an audience! It turns out my wife suprised me and rounded up all our pals to attend the race. That was very nice of her. In the group were Free Beer and his wife Amanda, Joe and his girlfriend Kate, Hot Wings couldn't come because he was planting trees or some other gay shit. Also there were our dear friends Pete and Andrea, and Kendal and Nikki and my Goddaughter Lilly. That was a big boost. I was very happy to see everyone.

So now I'm out for the run. A 6.4 mile run to be exact. However there was trouble ahead. This run is an asshole off road run through fields and woods with hills and massive roots sticking out of the ground. It really screws you up. I hate running with my head down and you have to so that you don't step on a massive root and hurt yourself. Of course, that's what happend. I'm going through the woods and "CRACK!" I actually heard my ankle crack. Holy shit! My left ankle twisted like a son of a bitch. I screamed every obscenity ever invented as I fell to the ground. It was excruciating. I really truely thought I had broken it. Wow. Very bad. It took me a few minutes but I tried to stand up. I took one step. No way. Down I went again. I sat there for another minute. I got up again and took a step. Then another and another. I walked for several yards and started to jog. I was limping heavily and it hurt like hell. On my left ankle was a strap. All the competitors have one. It holds your timing chip or transponder so that they can get your time for the race. I noticed that the strap was quickly getting tighter around my left ankle. Swelling. Never good. Fuck did this suck. Here I train for this GD thing for months. I'd been looking forward to this race for a long time and I wanted to do well. Plus I've got a bunch of friends there watching and I can barely move. Shit was I upset. Then I twisted the ankle AGAIN! Wow. This time I didn't go down. The pain wasn't as excruciating as my system had flooded me with the natural pain killers that our bodies produce so this twist wasn't nearly as painful. But I'm still hurt.

I finally make it out of the woods and am trying to pick up the pace despite the pain. There's about two miles left so plenty of pain ahead. I limp through the rest of the race and cross the finish line in 2 hours and 42 minutes. Not so good. Out of 105 men, I finished 55th.

I know I can do better. I've been training my ass off for the last two weeks and I learned a lot from the first race.

The next race is Saturday June 20. Please come! If your up for it, I'd love to see you. I'd be thrilled if you took a few hours Saturday mornning to see what it's like and to offer words of encouragement. If you're in the Grand Rapids market, here's the link to the event. www.johanstrifest.com

Thanks again for reading the blog. It's quite a thrill that you are interested in the things we do so much that you'd read our blogs and listen to our show. I'm glad that you do.

All the best,

Eric

Hello everyone:

My last blog entry told the tale of the swim portion of my first triathlon. I'll pick it up where I left off as I'm leaving the water. I'm peeling off my wetsuit as I'm running up a hill. I pull my arms out and head up the transition area. The transition area is where all the competitors "transition" to the next sport. It's important to be quick. Suit comes off. My shorts and top are underneath the suit. They dry quick. I slip on my cycling shoes. Next comes the helmet and sun glasses. I eat a GU (gross energy replacement gel), chug a bit of water (that would hurt later), and I'm off. The bike portion is a 12 mile or so loop that you ride on. I'm even more inexperienced at the bike than I am at the swim. I was hoping to be done in about an hour and ten minutes. It ended up taking a bit longer because I had to take a massive leak. This really sucked. I did not want to stop. Normally I can handle the discomfort associated with having to pee. I ran a marathon once and had to pee at mile one, but held on. But this was off the charts! A lot of times, some triathletes simply pee while they are riding. Literally pee their pants. I can't do that. I have shy weiner. The situation has to be right for me to pee. It's been that way for as long as I can remember. When I was a young boy I went to a boys camp for two weeks out of the summer. I had lots of peeing issues there. I liked the camp for the most part. Except for the counselor that touched my joint (true story). I've told that on the air. Crazy weird. The other major issue was the bathrooms. Normally I pee in a stall. Always. Very few exceptions. I need walls around me. If I go to a urinal in an empty public restroom and someone walks in, I have to zip and then go to a stall. I'm broken. The camp was a disaster for me because the restrooms had no walls around the toilets. Just four or five shitters next to each other and a stupid pee trough. What a nightmare. I didn't drink anything to avoid the bathroom. By the way, what a horrible thing to have to take a dump in the open with every asshole in the world free to see you push it out. Dear God! Now that I think of it, I hated that camp. I can't believe I thought I enjoyed it! I got molested, I couldn't pee, everybody watches you crap. What the F was I thinking? I hope it's closed. Geez I just had a moment like when Jenny sees her old molesty house in Forest Gump and starts freaking out and throwing rocks at it. Damn. Ok, back to the race. I have to stop. I push the bike in the weeds and run off the road. But I'm in the open too much. Other riders can see me. Not good. I go further in these woods. Thorns everywhere. I unleash it. I've got an unexplainable halfsie. Stupid. Mosquitos strafing my joint. I try to go. It's all screwed up. I have to go so bad that my body is really constricting my pee tube. It's probably a safety mechanism. If the full force of the 15 gallons of urine in my bladder blasted out, I'd probably cause destruction and wind up with a dick hole wider than a Folgers can. No joke, it takes at least a minute and a half to do it. I stumble back to the bike and head out again. The problem now is once you get off and then get back on after you've been busting it for 50 minutes, that your ass has already started to tighten up. That hurt like a bitch. It took a minute or two to loosen up again. I felt myself getting stronger though. I think there was a quick learning curve. I finished the bike portion 1:15:47. Almost six minutes longer than what I had hoped for. I averaged 19.7 miles per hour. I need to go faster and not drink too much water. Alright. That's it for this blog. I'll fill you in on even more high drama that happened in the run portion of the race next blog. See ya.

Eric

I am ridiculous when I am in my car. Ninety five percent of the time I am the lead singer in whatever band or artist that I am playing way too loud in the vehicle. The other five percent of the time I text message people. I get so detached while driving that in my mind's eye I really am on stage.

The latest fantasy has me going to my high school class reunion. The f'd up fantasy has to have a back story. During the previous 21 years I'd been touring the country with my band, Twisted Brown Trucker. My classmates know me more by my other name, Kid Rock. I roll up to the reunion in some bad-ass car with tons of adoring fans screaming my name. The parties already started as chicks who used to kick my ass are now throwing their underwear at me. I bust through the crowd. The band's already started vamping the beginning of "Rock and Roll Pain Train" as I mosey on through. I finally make it to the stage and everybody loses their mind as I snarl, "Fifteen years on this lonely road...." Then I park the car in the garage.

I'm telling you, my mind I broken. I've heard this type of detachment is not healthy. I believe it...but I can't stop.

I've got all sorts of fantasies like this. Wait till you hear about when I punched a hooker who jumped on stage when I was the lead singer of Molly Hatchett.

See ya!

I am always very impressed when people do home improvements to their own homes that actually look good. A homeowner who is effective at getting s**t done is always a force to be reckoned with.

Everything at my dump is falling apart. Seriously! The shed has holes in it. The paint's peeling badly off of the house. I need a new roof. My fence is rotting and gross to look at. The lawn will once again be infested with crabgrass and thousands of anthills. The worst part is I can't (or refuse) to do anything about it. The problem is that I used to try. Trying only made my situation worse. I tried to re-do the upstairs bathroom. It looked worse when I was done. Now I won't even attempt to work on the problems. If I do, I usually get too busy and never complete the task. I've got this stupid jerk lamp post in my front yard. The thing was rusted and looking like ass; the same as everything else at my hole-house. "Tool-time" Eric decided to tackle the problem with my usual gusto: Sand the damn thing till my arm got sore, then say "f**k it" and give up. Now the dick lamp post looks even more dick. I can't even winterize the pool. The thing is an in-ground pool. I think I may of managed to destroy it this year. You're supposed to pour RV antifreeze into the skimmer to run through the lines so that any water in there won't freeze. Guess what jerk forgot to do that this year. If those lines cracked, we're f'd. It would cost thousands to repair.

The only thing I can do well is replace sprinkler heads. I'm awesome at that. Hell, I can even replace underground sprinkler lines. Somehow I've managed to do a good job when it comes to that particular type of maintenance.

Ok that's it for now. See ya!