Funny, I Don't Remember...

"The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, the rest of the clothes were tossed pretty much anywhere."

That was one of the many comments received regarding last week's blog, all of them not yet ready for posting without considerable name changing and other modification.  I had no idea that so many of my old broadcast buds could recall some of the epic parties of those golden days of open bars, traded out hotels, record company freebies, and a morality somewhere to the left of "whoopee".  Too many participants are going to have to step off the planet before those tales can be told.

There was that time in Tampa...no, wait, better not.  How about the naked cartwheel contest in San Diego?  Perhaps another time.  The trip to the transmitter to shut the station on and off just for laughs?  The FCC could still be looking into that matter.  My pal Johnny E's impromptu and uninvited on stage appearance at a local "gentleman's" club in San Francisco after becoming over served at a station holiday celebration?  Nope!  Those are tales awaiting more relaxed non-PC times which most likely will never come again.  I guess those of us who suited up for the big game should be happy we're still around to remember.  Sort of.

I do believe gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson nailed it with his apt summation of the music business:  "The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free and good men die like dogs.  There is also a negative side."

Oh, I nearly forgot.  Johnny boy, I left your RX-7 in the Chinatown Holiday Inn parking garage after that blowout in '82.  I'll look for the ticket and get back to you.  You may need a jump start.

But Regrettable Fun Is The Best Kind

Now there is one more reason I'm happy to be retired.  Holiday office parties, always a ready source of delightful misconduct, are on the verge of getting sent home in a cab by the growing posse of fun police determined to rid this great country of any and all behavior deemed "not PC".  Human Resource nerds are now riding herd on the suddenly less than festive workplace end of year meet-ups like referees at a high school prom.  No kissing, dirty dancing, faxing your ass to clients, or getting drunk and telling off the boss for today's employees.  Why attend?!  Half the fun was watching Marty and Larry get a skin full of booze and hit on the manager's wife while the big guy slipped off into a closet with his secretary.  Bad behavior at its finest!

Perhaps it was because I toiled in the morally bankrupt world of broadcasting, but I can recall several yuletide office bacchanals that involved fist fights and broken bones.  One party featured not only broken bones due to slippage by guests on several gallons of spilled punch but also the historical first  squad car ride for some of the women in the sales department.  You're welcome ladies.  Good times!

Why have we become so damn averse to good not so clean Animal House fun?  As a nation we used to be able to let the badger out a couple of times a year, but no more.  Now the killjoys of political correctness have us lashed to the mast of good behavior and refuse to let us party down.  I say we stop this nonsense right now!  So what if you lose your job?  It's the season to monkey around and the circus is still in town baby!  I think I hear sirens.