Really??

Really??!!

You're undecided?

What? You've been in a coma?  How the hell is it possible that ANYBODY with a cerebral cortex is UNdecided regarding their choice in the presidential race?  

My theory:  Nobody is truly undecided.  All of these clowns filling seats in TV focus groups are lying.  They know damn well who they're voting for but are willing to pretend to be vacillating just so they can be the center of attention.  I believe the moniker is "Attention Whore".

After each of the campaign debates I sit like a slack-jawed yokel as these half-wits offer up their silly see through observations and questions only to reveal their true preference via the context of a question or their lack of a poker face.  Why do the pollsters put up with this?  It's simple.  Network executives know that stirring up a big kettle of crazy is just good television; nothing more.

Look Ma!   I'm a moron, but I'm on TV!

How could a person sleep through the last four years?  Most Americans haven't.  They made up their minds months ago.  Leaving the country in the hands of a president with less executive experience than my high school shop teacher--Sorry Mr. Bomgarrs-- is unacceptable.  How about the guy who knows how to make a billion dollars?  Hmmm,  he would seem the logical choice for our national spread sheet.  It's in desperate need of adult supervision.  What to do..what to do?  If you haven't noticed that we're broke and are continuing to spend money like drag queens at a wig sale,  please seek professional help.  Or, maybe, if you seek  attention and money, find out what kind of cheese they're paying to undecided focus group pantloads these days.

In the words of that magical sage, Penn Jillette, "To find the road to Utopia take a left at sex and a right at money and you're there."  Works for me.

This thing can't be over soon enough.
REALLY!

There's always room for another focus group stooge.

A Couple of Good Reads

Often the best books are those that you have to talk yourself into reading.  

A good friend called me and insisted that I read Brothers, Rivals and Victors by Jonathan Jordan.  Naturally, I thought "yeah, maybe when I get some time".  However, he was insistent.  He told me to be sure to read it before we talked again.  

In spite of that kind of persistence, which usually flips my "make me" circuit breaker, I reluctantly began to read the book.

Wow!  This is something special.  Jordan has written not just another history of World War II but a superior glimpse inside the personalities of some of the most extraordinary leaders America has ever produced.  Eisenhower, Patton, and Bradley, West Point educated generals who saved the world from the Nazis are each analyzed with insight and compassion that offers them to you as never before.  It is impossible to read this book without coming away with an understanding of how very different yet complimentary their personalities were and how it all miraculously resulted in victory for America and the free world.  Gone are the cultivated public persona's of each man.  The fragile chemistry that saved us from Hitler's megalomania is in sharp focus here.  You will realize, perhaps for the first time, just how precarious the Allied victory was.  This is fascinating stuff.

Since I read books like I watch TV--guy style--I like to have six or seven books going at the same time.  That way, if I need a break from the war, I can pick another very different sort of read.  Monitor, take 2, is perhaps something only media burnouts will enjoy, or maybe you're old enough to remember enjoying a weekend radio program called Monitor on NBC.  Monitor was the creation of the broadcast genius of Pat Weaver the man who gave us TV's Today and Tonight, and also his daughter, Sigourney Weaver. 

  Monitor was forty hours of radio fascination that ran every Saturday and Sunday on the NBC radio network from 1955-1975.  Features, information, comedy, music, weather and some of the greatest radio talent ever to crack a mic came together as pure audio magic.  Dave Garroway, Gene Rayburn, Ed McMahon, Henry Morgan, Bill Cullen, Jim Lowe and eventually people like Big Wilson, Murray the K, Don Imus and Robert W. Morgan hosted what became the weekend soundtrack for millions of Americans.  It was radio at its finest.  Dennis Hart, a longtime broadcasting professional has put together an exceptional recollection of a "must listen" experience.

Dave Garroway and the 1955 Monitor crew

Gene Rayburn, Monitor's longest running host

Both of these books are available from Amazon.  

To A Grandson On His Third Birthday

Happy birthday Danny!

A boy who knows his way around an ice cream cone!

Three years old and one of the best pals a grandpa ever had.  I knew when you were just hours old that you and I were simpatico,  two guys destined to catch the laugh train to Fun Town and hit all the stops along the way.  You, my boy, were worth the wait.

For a long time your grandma and I thought that little guys like you were the province of our friends.  We hadn't really planned on grandchildren because we didn't want to be disappointed.

 Yet, here you are and we're now three years into the gift that is, well, you.  Already you have gone more places and done more things than grandpa did in the first TWENTY years of his life.  You've seen a palm tree,  traveled to New York City, flown on jet planes, been out of the country, sailed on a boat and visited Disneyland all before your third birthday.  Heck, we're even going to spend the whole day at Legoland this coming Monday to celebrate.  

Who needs cake?!  Oh, that's right your having that tomorrow when your mom and dad throw you a family party.  That will be fun.  Cousins, cake, maybe a couple of those radio controlled cars to play with, it all sounds like a honkin' good time, and you deserve it.

This may be grandpa prejudice, but I think you're a really good boy.  You are perpetually happy and friendly to most everybody.  You willingly share your toys, say please and thank you and readily obey your mom and dad.  When they tell you to do something or, as is often the case, to STOP doing something, you listen and do as you're told.  You may not know it yet but that kind of attention and obedience will serve you well in life.  Mom and dad will always have your best interests in mind.  Granted, there will come a time, probably ten years hence, when you will look at them as fossilized idiots from the planet DIP who know absolutely nothing worthy of your consideration, but that will pass and you'll spend the rest of your life thanking them for being so darn smart.  That's just the way it works. Trust me, I'm your grandpa.

So, here's to the first three years of a wonderful new life!  May you continue to grow, learn and appreciate all the gifts you have.  The future will bring many new challenges that will be far more complicated than those experienced by your parents and certainly by your grandparents.  Always remember that opportunity knocks once but temptation leans on the doorbell.  With luck, you'll be intelligent enough to know the difference.

Winston Churchill, a great man you will learn about as you study history, once said: "Words are the only things that live forever."  In the past year you have begun to express yourself more conversationally and grandpa wants you to remember that your words have the power to help or to hurt people.  Use them wisely.  No doubt, you will forget this advice from time to time, but try to keep it in mind and always do your best to make others feel good.

One more thing:  Grandpa has noticed that you are starting to take a real interest in things like airplanes and pool tables.  Remember as you grow older and start to think about an occupation it is important to choose work that you love.  Your grandpa fell in love with the radio business when he was a boy and spent nearly forty years getting paid for something he would have done for nothing.  You should do the same, though I'm fairly certain that given a choice between aviation and hustling pool the former is the one to choose.  And forget about broadcasting. Like grandpa, that business is going the way of the Pony Express.  Just remember that you'll be defined by the choices you make and the choice of a career is a really big one.

Now. let's have some cake.  Maybe later we'll play some pool.  Gramps will let you break.

Love,

Grandpa

A future in aviation?

Tonsorial Timing

Curly was ahead of his time.

I'm not really sure when I started losing my hair.  As a kid I always thought it would be a horrible tragedy to be sans a top mop and vowed to be first in line for a toupee' should my hair hit the hirsute highway.  Both grandfathers and my dad waved good-bye to their locks by the time they clocked forty and for no good reason I thought myself immune.

Others had warned me that baldness is stealthy.  All of a sudden you catch a glimpse of yourself in a downtown store window and wonder who that man is.  Later, when looking at pictures of Christmas or your kid's birthday, you're asking about the identity of the "bald guy" only to realize it's YOU.

Maybe you give the hair piece ploy some consideration or, more likely, you decide that the dome is chrome and a "hair hat" will fool nobody who matters.  After all, they have obviously been more aware of your ever expanding forehead than you have and, since you're already married, you don't need it anymore.
"I'm over fifty.  Who cares!" becomes your mantra.

Timing is everything.  These days it's cool to be bald.  Guys of my generation prone to male pattern baldness are accidentally in STYLE.  Most of us don't even own a comb anymore.  Heck, I merely run a little clipper over my cranial holdouts a couple of times a month and have probably saved enough money to open my own hair salon.  Sunscreen is the only "product" needed at my summit in this century.  PLUS, and this is a big one, a recent piece in the Wall Street Journal exclaims, "Bald is Powerful".   "A buzzed head can be masculine,  a touch aggressive and, as a new study suggests, an advantage in business." the article explains as it offers examples of company leaders who enjoy the business advantage of being bald and bold.  "People remember the bald guy."

I'm seriously considering a hostile takeover next week.  A bar maybe?  No, wait,  that's a bad idea.  Make it a Dairy Queen.

All bald guys look like movie stars.

So, I think we can all agree, it's a great time to be bald.  Baby boomers of the Y chromosome persuasion have never had it so good when it comes to follicle impairment.

Since pretty much every situation in life is a trade-off, it's only fair that I bring up skinny jeans and Speedos.  Zero percent of bald dudes over fifty look good in either.  Don't even think about it.  Although, you might want to think about it if you're trying to scare yourself in to losing about fifty pounds.  Put simply, it  AIN'T RIGHT.

Speaking of something utterly NOT right for the planet:  The new NFL jerseys have created a league of 300-pound fashion victims.  Have you seen them?

The league switched from Reebok made jerseys to new tighter, sleeker Nike duds this year and the players are NOT happy.  Guts are hanging out from New England to Seattle and it isn't pretty.  Alex Boone, a 300 pounder who plays guard for the 49ers, says that when his wife first saw him in the new garb "she said, 'It looks like you ate a baby."  (a fat baby at that)

Maybe if the players are patient the spare tire look will become fashionable like baldness.  Or, better yet, get the union to insist that league attire feature Hawaiian shirts.

Bald heads and Hawaiian shirts, it's a good look.

"Does this jersey make me look fat?"

Remembering Andy Williams

Andy Williams, one of America's top pop vocalists and popular TV show host, has died.  He was 84.

One of the benefits of a career in radio is, or maybe WAS, the chance to meet lots of celebrities needing to use your show to promote themselves or a project they support.  Usually you have enough notice to prepare for a famous guest and are ready with questions you think will provide some insight and fascination for listeners.  Naturally, like much in life, sometimes you get surprised…

In January of 1977 I was new to San Diego having re-located the previous August from the Tampa/St. Petersburg market.  As the afternoon drive guy on KOGO it was part of my deal to also host the Saturday morning show in place of the legendary Ernie Myers who had a contract that guaranteed him a Monday through Friday work week.  It was fun for me since I had primarily been a morning guy for most of my career. The show was my opportunity to establish a beachhead in the morning real estate if and when Ernie decided to retire.  

From 1968 to 1988 Andy Williams hosted the annual San Diego Open.  He was an avid golfer and the PGA loved having big names on the majority of their tournaments in those days.  Bob Hope, Glen Campbell and Dinah Shore had their own and the Torrey Pines course at La Jolla was the perfect venue for the Andy Williams San Diego Open.  

I was at the AWSDO that Saturday in January of 1977 and about half way through my 6am-10am show when an official from the tournament stuck his head in the door of the KOGO mobile studios set up for the event.  He said, "Andy is here and I'm bringing him in for an interview in a few minutes."  "Hummina hummina  hummina", I managed.  Immediately I thought I'm not prepared!  What the hell can I ask him??!!

At first I thought a sincere thank you for all the make-out music he had provided for my high school Romeo years. (The girls all loved him.)  Fortunately I realized that would fill about ten seconds of time, IF he laughed.  The only other subject that was rolling around in my cranium was the recent trial and conviction of his ex-wife, Claudine Longet, who had air-conditioned her boyfriend, professional skier Spider Sabich, to death with a pistol that just happened to fall into her hands.  That's ALL I had.  My mind couldn't stop thinking of wise ass cracks like Claudine wanting Spider to "listen to a 45" and other equally snide and insipid lines.

And then….HE WAS THERE.   

I rose to shake hands and was stunned to see how short he was.  I had no idea.  I'd seen him on TV for years and had always thought him to be of average height but here was a guy wearing Cuban heels who  barely touched 5'5", maybe less.  He was really short!  I'm certain that the surprise shown in my face.  In addition he gave every indication of being massively hungover and in no mood to "chat".  My career flashed in front of my eyes as he shakily fired up a large stogie, no doubt as an incentive for me to keep our meeting brief.

In my headphones I heard that we were nearing the end of a commercial break and I was "ON" in ten seconds.  Flop sweat enveloped my body as I lamely began introducing Andy.  A quick comment about us both having spent time in Iowa, he in Wall Lake and me in Spencer, went nowhere and I could tell by the look on his face he wasn't going to stick around too long if this was all I had.  I asked about his brothers and how their boyhood act evolved from singing on the radio in Des Moines and Cincinnati to backing up Bing Crosby on his big hit, "Swingin' On A Star".  And THEN IT CAME TO ME…

Somehow,  either by reading it or hearing about it, I recalled the little known fact that Andy, as a young boy, had provided the singing voice for Lauren Bacall in the movie "To Have and To Have Not", a picture that first teamed her with Humphrey Bogart.  I asked him if it was true and how it happened.

His eyes widened and he sat up with interest.  He was engaged and suddenly excited to talk to me.  I had turned the corner and we were headed for home!  He told the story of how he and his brothers, Dick, Bob and Don had been under contract to MGM and were on the studio lot playing ball outside Louie B. Mayer's window as Mr. Mayer was meeting with Bogie and Bacall.  The subject of Bacall's lack of singing talent had been the major topic since the picture required her to briefly sing a song.  Mayer, always anxious to utilize contract players, called out to the Williams brothers and ask them to come to his office.  Each brother was auditioned on the spot to see if there was a close match to Lauren's low pitch.  In his early teens, it was decided that young Andy's voice was just about perfect.   

Andy Williams became the singing voice of Lauren Bacall.  

Movie trivia had saved me!

If you have a chance, check out "To Have and To Have Not"to hear the voice of a young Andy Williams exit the mouth of the very sexy Lauren Bacall.

The rest of the interview went very well.  I relaxed and remembered questions about some of his hit records and his relationship with Bobby and Ethel Kennedy, even though he was a registered Republican.  In every respect it became a worthy interview.  He left the KOGO trailer in good spirits and I went home with a wonderful memory of a major singing talent with over twenty-seven charted hit records that continue to play on as the  soundtrack of my generation.

Andy Williams 1927-2012

Getting Out of Town

Been on the road…and, in the air--A LOT.
The wife and I thought it was time to see Europe up close and personal since we have reached that point in life when people say things like "better do it now while you still can".

My take?
First of all, it's always a treat to be overseas when zealots decide to burn our embassies and kill our ambassadors.  If you're an American, it's always open season.
Then there is the problem of too damn many statues and fountains.
Frankly, I got tired of looking at them.  Far more interesting were the balconies of Italy, Greece and Spain.  The denizens of southern Europe  actually use their little slice of sky for drying their clothes,  growing potted things and just watching the passing parade.  Remember  the smell of clothesline dried duds?  Over here they never forgot.

"Honey, your shorts are done."

Cool shadows in Tuscany

Drawers dryin' in the Italian sun.

Nice window box in Corfu, Greece

When in Rome, do as the Pope does.

Old cats watch the tourists

A dog's eye view of the Spanish Steps in Rome.

I don't know why Italian laundry fascinates me, but it does.

Just shoot the morons who do this!

No, not NYC.  It's Manarola, Italy

Santorini, Greece: a place of stunning beauty.

Unfortunately graffiti has become commonplace on the continent.  Like Americans the people of Europe have come to accept it.  It is NOT "street art" dammit!   It is a disgrace and let me be the first to suggest that instant public executions for those responsible may be a handy deterrent.  A society willing to tolerate this nonsense is most certainly circling the drain.  It has to stop NOW.

The food, especially in Italy, is exceptional.  I'm sure that at least a couple of pounds of pasta has found a home around my equator.  The Greeks have some good ideas about what to do with food too.  Spain--the whole tapas thing has a lot of appeal--but, who wants to wait around to dine at nine or ten PM?

Okay, check that trip off the old bucket list.  It's time to make plans for the next venture.  I'm excluding Africa and Antarctica because I simply have zero interest in either.  (I get National Geographic to cover that base.)  But after another ten or twelve months of recovery time I should be ready to tackle the world once again with camera at the ready.  Zanzibar anyone?

Yesterday, after eighteen hours in the air and four trips through the airport security of two different countries, we touched down on U.S. soil.  As our plane began its approach, Chuck Berry's "Back In the U.S.A." played on my ipod.

                  "Oh well, oh well, I feel so good today,
                    We touched ground on an international runway
                     Jet propelled back home, from overseas to the U.S.A.

                    Well, I'm so glad I'm livin' in the U.S.A.
                     Yes, I'm so glad I'm livin' in the U.S.A.
                     Anything you want, we got it right here in the U.S.A."

Nailed it Chuck!   Sometimes you have to leave to remind yourself.

KO Is OK by This Flyboy

With a colonoscopy they are at least courteous enough to knock you out with one of those elephant tranquilizers before violating your nether regions.  You know the drill, (pun intended), like a dying star beginning a wobbly decent into the void, doctors recommend--nay insist--on a colonoscopy to probe the southern end of your inner being.  And, like a college fraternity pledge with a homecoming weekend date, sedation is helpful.  Better living through chemistry I believe they call it.

Having been a traveling fool of late I think that, just as it is with the old roto rooter routine, air transportation may be enhanced by the administration of a package of heavy sedation.  It is after all a true PAIN IN THE ASS TO FLY!  From the TSA pre-boarding feel up to the excruciatingly uncomfortable ride there is genuine torture a plenty when taking a plane ride in 2012.

WHY??!!!

It's not as if the airlines are making money.  Sir Richard Branson, the daddy of Virgin Air, once explained that the quickest way to become a millionaire is to begin with a billion dollars and then get into the airline business. 

It wasn't always thus.  I recall my first plane ride. It was a BIG DEAL.  People, me included, dressed up.  We didn't all look like we were in the middle of washing the car and suddenly Baltimore seemed a good idea.  In those days you could smoke and the food and drinks were free.  It was heaven to fire up a Lucky Strike and slam down the first of fifteen or twenty Old Fitzgerald's as the bird began to taxi for takeoff.  I recollect the plane landing at our destination around 7:15 PM and me a couple of hours later.  Good times!

So here it is, another million dollar idea lined up just for you:  Please, SOMEBODY, develop a business plan that offers air travel providing complete and carefree heavy sedation from my front door to my final destination.  There are plenty of fliers with credit cards at the ready just waiting to book fare.  We will PAY UP to be knocked out and transported in air-conditioned unconscious comfort and or splendor to anywhere and everywhere a limp and compliant body can be shipped.

I'm already counting backward.  Nurse, turn on the joy juice and wake me when we're there! 

10, 9, 8…….ZZZZZZZZZZ

BAM! ZOOM! TO THE MOON!