Friday, August 26, 2011

Seattle Summit

We were on our way to Alaska and it just seemed like a good idea...

My wife, Linda, and I had decided to tag along with longtime radio partner Cynthia Heath-Kerrigan and her husband, Bill, as they set sail on an Alaskan cruise.  Since Seattle was to be the jumping off point, it was only natural to call old Tacoma/Seattle radio goof deluxe, Dayle Nelson, to see if she cared to meet us for dinner.  She did, and the Steelhead Diner in Seattle's Pike Place Market will never be the same.  Cynthia, who lent her sense of raunch n' roll to shows we hosted on KOGO, KBZT, and KPOP in San Diego found a fellow nut job in Dayle who joined in twisted nonsense with Chuck Boland and me on KTAC in the Pacific Northwest back in the early 1980's.

As the sun burned into the Pacific, (YES, it WAS out!), we recalled seat of the pants stunts we pulled on the air over the many years we played together.  There was the vermouth drinking skunk that lived under Cynthia's house; also the hard hitting expose' that Dayle presented on the Tacoma phone book, not to mention phone calls to a dead Elvis and an even more dead Liberace.  At one point Dayle reprised her unforgettable Ethel Merman impression and nearly cleared out the restaurant.

We laughed lots as the evening wore on.  Days gone by when radio was more "show" than "business" were remembered fondly.  The program directors we dissed and tormented with our penchant for always winging it were recalled with some reluctance.  (We wondered if our flagrant violations of their various anal retentive formats had taken years off their lives.)  It was an evening well spent with two of the best gal pals a guy ever had.

The days of having the kind of fun we enjoyed are long since in radio's rear view mirror--and it's a pity.  These days accountants, lawyers, investment bankers and the Internet have left radio flattened roadkill on the entertainment freeway.  AM, FM and all those transistors today are about as happening as the Pony Express.  It's a sad fact but we still have our memories of the days when radio and spontaneous fun were synonymous.

Cindy, Dayle...thanks for the laughs!  You were, and still are, the best in the business.  Who needs a transmitter anyway.
Cynthia, KC, & Dayle

Friday, August 19, 2011

Happy Face Horse****

The first time I heard the words remedial and college in the same sentence I thought it was for comic effect.  This sort of thing happens a lot when you live in California, a state where public universities have been offering remedial help to college students for years, as it continues to live down to its image as the home of dumb ideas and misplaced priorities.  What other state would allow farmers to go broke and fields to go fallow just to save some glorified guppies from the extinction they so richly deserve?  We're "full up" with crazy out here.

Logan Jenkins,  a worthy local scribe with the San Diego Union-Tribune, recently related in his always edifying column news of a new campaign underway at Cal State San Marcos.  The eggheads at that seat of higher learning have concocted a program that asks students to wear a button encouraging classmates to SMILE at one another.  The geniuses in charge have apparently noticed that students now show up for college not only in need of basic skills in math, English, and science but also lack manners.  (Has day care created a couple of generations of people seemingly raised by wolves?)--ed)

On the San Marcos campus there is now a "Civility Committee"--(seriously!)--set to roam the university rewarding acts of kindness with gift cards and T-shirts.
YOU CANNOT MAKE THIS UP!

No wonder China, and virtually every other country that has not yet been commandeered by bonehead politically correct liberals, is stealing our lunch money and running our drawers up the schoolyard flag pole!

Here's a thought:
How about rejecting students too loutish and stupid to do college level work?  Not everybody should go to college.  We need to get over the idea that four years of protracted adolescence coupled with a few hours of study is the only key to success in America.

There is dignity and honor in occupations like auto repair, plumbing and other jobs that require heavy lifting.  Doubt me?  Check out a plumber's W-2.  Or, even better, next time your sump won't pump, try calling a professor.
"Eat Me"
Make sure you ask for the one with the smiley face button.

Friday, August 12, 2011

And in OTHER News...

Some items of interest you may have missed during the past few days include the banning of those godawful vuvuzelas  at the upcoming Under-20 World Cup in Colombia.  Fans have been forbidden from bringing the noisemakers to the games in the city of Pereira.  It seems that the cacaphonous nuisances that provided the soundtrack for the 2010 World Cup in South Africa are now starting to annoy the players.  Now, if we could just get Washington, D.C. to do the same with Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer.
"Here's Johnny!"


This just in...
Apparently America's favorite doll, Barbie, has tossed out longtime boy toy, Ken, and is now living single in the Malibu dream house she designed herself.  The oceanfront property is nearly 5,000 square feet of the good life and it is now hers...ALL HERS.  Rumor has it that she was able to take out a $24 million dollar second mortgage to buyout the hardcore unemployed Ken who is now living in San Francisco's Castro District with "fishing buddy" Bruce Lovely.  "The bitch took it all," offered the still reeling former Mr. Barbie.  Friends say that once the hurt has passed Ken and Bruce will open their long planned Bed and Breakfast on Northern California's Russian River.
"More closet space for me!" says Barbie.



And, in case you missed it--and you probably did because it was on PMSNBC, Barney Frank proved that natural gas is the answer to the nation's energy problems.  The perpetual gasbag wafted an air muffin on the Rachel Mad Cow show the other day without so much as an "excuse me".  This confirms a long held belief held by most Americans that the Massachusetts congressclown is never quite sure from which end he bloviates.
Who needs "drill baby drill" when all you need do is light a match near Washington, D.C.

Friday, August 5, 2011

"Yes, Dear...Of Course I'm Listening"

"Sure baby...whatever you say!"

"So Janet said that they were going to do that thing we all talked about, except without renting the cottage like last year, but Gloria and Ed want nothing to do with that goofy Paula and Sam."  "I think I'll make that salad I've been wanting to make since I clipped it from the paper; maybe we'll take that to the thing on Saturday."


People who talk like this are called: WOMEN.  Guys, never having even the slightest notion of what the hell their female significant others are talking about, respond with the perfunctory "Uh huh" or an emphatic head bob if they would like the discussion to stop.  To ask for basic information regarding the who, where, what and when of the most recent female verbal ejaculation is to invite a tsunami of even more unknown names an undefined relationships that mean not a tinker's diddly to the average male.

Men speak when they have something to say; women speak to say something.
One of the mysteries of the universe is why women act as if everyone and everything that they know is also in the memory bank of everyone else.  They assume that there is no need for last names, points of reference, relationship data or additional pieces of the puzzle.  Guys are left with the hobson's choice of either asking just WHO on God's green earth Janet IS and why we should care, or merely faking it with a non-committal head nod or the ever neutral, "Really?".  Younger dudes will ask questions and make a concerted effort to understand only to become more baffled while older guys will stick with the tried and true continuous head nod and random "Uh huh" to get them through.  ( I have found it helpful to do a little planning while pretending to listen.  For example: "Who's on Sports Center tonight?" or "I wonder if that leftover pizza in the back of the refrigerator is still okay?" play nicely in my head as I feign interest in what my wife is saying.   For this to work it is extremely important to wait until the talking appears to have ended before checking either the TV listings or the 'fridge. 

I'm not certain if it is mere laziness or a sincere effort to avoid any complications, but most of us men are reluctant to "share" any of the stuff that is going on in our lives.  We, unlike women, feel it is necessary to explain who everybody is and to give extensive detail and technical information when offering up an answer to "What's going on?".   We want to draw a verbal diagram loaded with detail,  and lots of footnotes.  However, unless drunk or coming out of a ten year coma, most men think about how much talking and exposition this kind of "sharing" will involve and choose to punt and go looking for snacks.

 Maybe I'll tell her later.

The problem with the "Maybe I'll tell her later" plan is that invariably after a couple of days most of we gents "think" we did indeed tell her.  Then, usually several months later, when we say, "Don't you remember?  I told you about that!"--she is looking for the strychnine to slip in your Cheerios.

Women!

Uh Oh,  you're going to have to excuse me as I see my wife is saying something.  She appears to be angry.  If I were listening, I'd guess there is something wrong.  You don't suppose she has been reading over my shoulder?  I'm pretty sure I told her I was going to do this.
Maybe not.


I wonder if that six week old pizza way in the back of the refrigerator is still okay?
How long until Sports Center?