On the same day I was hired out at Costco as the new spokesperson for the Tennessee Cheesecake Company, I mentioned to the girl who hired me that I had a friend of mine who constantly calls me "Pumpkin" and humiliated me in front of my then-staff while I was at the University of Memphis a few days prior to me heading to Atlanta.

"Everytime I say something bad about her, something bad happens to me," I said to her as we left the store.

'Karma can be a bitch, you know," she said, "Whatever you do, don't badmouth the girl again."

Obviously, I haven't reached the point of avoiding that.

Three days after saying there was something wrong with her in front of her mother, my precious Zune player fell  victim to my washer here at the house after I  (pause for dramatic effect) did a very horrible thing in my pants on the interstate as I headed home from work.

And then on Sunday as I cleaned everything off at my work area, the already-shattered sign that I have for my demo mentioning the price fell to the floor, breaking it.

Last night, I mentioned to my therapist about what had gone in the last few days and the belief that of all people, the city's northern version of Peppermint Patty in fact placed a curse on me.

His response?

"You like her, don't you?"

My response?

When pigs fly.  

Unless you're mentally retarded or just plain out a complete dumbfuck, you know that Elvis Aaron Presley died on August 16, 1977 at the age of 42.

Not 2007.

But according to this week's Memphis Flyer, which I picked up this week at the Cossitt Library in Downtown Memphis, which is where I'm blogging from after starting my shopping for school supplies a block over at Family Dollar on Main Street, the King of Rock and Roll died on Monday at the Circle G Ranch in Horn Lake, Mississippi of cardiac arrest at the age of 72.

Really?

Actually, the music writers at the Flyer, Chris Herrington (who lives near me) and Greg Akers wrote a very thought-provoking piece on what would have happened Presley had not died on August 16, 1977.

The article brought up wild ideas of Graceland turning into a Cadillac dealership owned by Elvis' best friend George Klein, a failed resturaunt chain known for making Elvis' famous peanut butter & banana sandwiches, a reopened Libertyland, and best of all, a pro team playing in a brand-new football stadium on the grounds of a renovated Fairgrounds.

Wild huh?

Presley's girlfriend at the time of his death, Ginger Alden, would go on and have a modest career in acting with roles in "L.A. Law"  and "Knotts Landing" plus give birth to his son, Jesse Vernon Presley in 1979, who became an accomplished actor in his own right with a role on "The O.C." and face drug problems of his own.

And Presley himself would perform at Bill Clinton's first inagural ball in 1992, record new material as well as appear in the cult classic "Kill Bill" as an aging martial arts master thanks in part to director Quentin Tarntino's fascination with the King.

What amazes me about all of this is that for one, this city hasn't been the same since he died 30 years ago. We've elected a black mayor, turned into the murder captial of the country, and landed a pro basketball team but still is regarded by many outsiders as a backwater town.

To me had he lived and survived all the drug abuse, I believe wholeheartedly the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame would have been here as well as major professional teams prior to 2001, and God knows what else.

But I know one thing though.

I still wouldn't be a fan of his damned music.

Maybe the newer material, which would have been like a cross between Johnny Cash and Ryan Adams, but certainly not the older shit, too shitty for me.