I left home yesterday with every intention of getting an IPad. My brother just got back from Las Vegas and I wanted to get together to hear the latest family dirt. If a restaurant features a buffet it ranks high on my brother's to-do list, so we passed on Buffalo Wild Wings in favor of the Sammy's Pizza buffet. (For those Californiasians and Bohunkians who are not familiar with Sammy's Pizza, its a local favorite that is neither the best or worst. It was the first pizza I tasted and I grew up eating it and grew old in California dreaming about it.) In downtown Duluth, I had to wait while a kid on a skateboard zipped by on the brick-paved First Street. For a moment I had a little nostalgia for San Francisco when similar kids on skateboards would careen down Jones Street. The buffet was good and we left on my IPad quest plus a stop for stuff at Sam's Club. On the way, we edged thru a left turn behind some college-looking kids on bikes, and later passed a guy with a back-pack jogging UP-HILL!!! After seeing all this youthful energy, I was thoroughly pissed off. Damn it. If you're going to be so young and healthy keep it to your fucking self! At Sam's Club I ran into the teacher who directed me in a play when I was in 11th grade. (More about that another time) Mr. Obst was his name and he is old. At first he didn't recognize me, but when I mentioned that play all the proper synapses fired and he remembered it all. On the way out of the Sam's Club parking lot my legs hurt, my back hurt, my knees hurt, my shoulder hurt, my brain hurt, the sun was too bright, I was having chest pains, my teeth itched, my tongue was fuzzy, and I felt a little acid-reflux. If I'd had a gun, I'd have found that up-hill jogger and scared the shit out of him! I skipped the IPad shopping, went directly home, and had some ice cream.

I can't guarantee proper paragraphs, the Queen's English, or even the least bit of cogency. When I was going to Brown Institute about 147 years ago, there was a fellow student, a hockey player, from somewhere in northern Minnesota...what we call, the Iron Range. I can't remember his name and I think I am confusing him with another fellow student from somewhere in western Minnesota. THAT guy was a baseball player and eventually did sports on TV...maybe in Duluth, when I was elsewhere. Anyway, like many people from the Range, the hockey player was a Bohunk. Does anyone use words like Bohunk anymore? Bohunk...Dumb Swede....Finnlander....? Is Bohunk as bad as what is now referred to as the n'word? In San Francisco the 'community' has embraced the Q-word...but some are quite offended by the F-word. (THIS F-word is the perjoritive...not like the F-U word. Mostly THAT F-word, I use as an adverb or adjective). I saw a play once..TWIGS...where a character says to her husband..."You are an odd man." In 1962 there was something odd about your basic Minnesota Bohunk. In Prague, the capital city of one of the most Bohunkian countries in the world, the Czech Republic, they are NOT odd. Perhaps there is some sort of Darwinian process that has the effect of taking a perfectly normal Czech-Bo and when they become a Range-Bo..they become ..well...odd. (My Range-Bo friend was a wonderful Catholic, tho, and even made a Novena while I knew him). If the Czech Republic changed its name to "Bohunkia", would they be embracing the slur and trumping the slurers? I intended to compare the street people in Prague, San Francisco, and Duluth but I traveled a different road. Maybe tomorrow. Aren't you glad you didn't have to be hear to deal with all this in person?

I have been lonesome for the past few days. I got used to having people around talking to me. Come to think about it, I got used to having people around to listen to me talk. (If you think I had stories in 1990, Moon, I've had 20 years to gather a whole bunch of new ones.) Most recently, I spent a happy week with family in Belle Plaine. My youngest G-nephew informed me he wants to be an actor when he grows up and the year older g-nephew has decided he wants to be professional gamer. With luck they will both be rich and will send me money for the Snickers machine in the old-folks home. Either way, the new choices are a step up for both of them. Before they were hot to work at Target and Famous Dave's. Speaking of Famous Dave's, my week back in Minnesota began on Monday with a Devil's Spit Burger at Famous Dave's. Usually I order the brisket...but I decided to cast caution to the curb. Wow! Best burger I've had in a long time. In order to be home for Easter, I caught a bus from Minneapolis on Easter Sunday morning. I thought it would be empty...I was wrong. Fifteen or so others were traveling north. When the bus reached North Branch, I was first in line for the Burger King potty. (My aim is all that good anyway, and in a moving bus it is disastrous.) I was tempted to do a double cheese, but by this time it was 1:15 and we were eating 10 minutes after I arrived at 2:25....I figured I could starve a little for an hour and ten minutes. Especially with the cinnamon roll and milk snack I bought to tide me over. My brother Tim made a great meal. By six I was really home, loaded with left-overs and by noon on Monday, was already bored. Or lonesome. Or bored AND lonesome. "Would you like some wine?" "Why yes I would." And so I'm back...from outer space. I just walked in to find me here with that sad look upon my face......

It's after 11pm and I am back...but not for long. Don't despair. I'll be back...again....right after Easter and hopefully I'll keep on top of the site and the blog. I have lots to write about but my V8 is down to about 5. Already this is taxing my brain and I have to take a nap. Anyway...see you all in a week or more..... Wondering? Rob

After being thoroughly punished for using computers in internet cafes and accessing that Lactating Midget Transvestite site, I shouldn't be surprised that some guy in Japan decided my Yahoo email directory was ripe pickings for erection enhancements and extremely realistic latex toys. Now, with some new addresses and passwords, I feel like a new-born baby.

Back in 1968, I spent six weeks at Brown Institute memorizing the FCC 1st Class test questions and Kel was one of my class-mates. Rather than falling for my hacked email, he dropped me a note and prompted me to write (again) about my Christmas Tree Obsession.

I leave it up always.

I just like Christmas too much and knowing that no matter where I travel, when I get back to my stuff, my Christmas Tree will be waiting. I don't have a theme tree. It is just an eclectic Christmas tree loaded with white lights, colored lights, old-fashioned lights, LED lights, and and mixture of old, new, and home-made decorations. It twinkles nicely in December as well as in July. What's the deal behind it?

When I was in high school I read about a Hollywood icon from the silent picture days who at that time, in his old-age, was fabulously wealthy, not from his movies, but from Los Angeles real-estate. There were pictures of the living room of Harold Lloyd's mansion and in it was a huge-year-around Christmas tree. I remember commenting to my grandmother (or someone) that it would be "neat" or maybe "swell" to have a Christmas tree year around.

Now we should jump ahead to September 1971. I was moving from an apartment on McKnight Road (not far from KDWB) to a townhouse apartment close to Downtown St. Paul. I had lived in the apartment for a little more than a year. I had a Christmas tree to move. I bought that white-flocked Christmas Tree for Christmas 1970. In January of 1971 was coming off a year of being mostly crazy or high and undecorating and discarding my Christmas tree was not on my agenda. In spite of the fact this was an actual, once alive balsam, the needles didn't fall off. Maybe it was a magic tree or maybe the flock just held the needles in place. Either way, it was a fire disaster waiting to happen and by April of 1971 I stopped lighting the lights and kept at least 10 feet away when smoking.

At some point in the summer I removed the lights. The needles remained and the silver and gold bulbs and garlands sparkled appropriately. It was easy to dredge up my "Harold Lloyd" excuse for keeping that dusty-flocked-white-kindling. In September when I moved, I was determined that the tree would come with me. The branches were so brittle, our attempt to squeeze it out the door was doing major damage and thanks to some helper's suggestion, we tied a rope to the tree and lowered it down from the balcony. For the next three years it took up space in the corner of the dining area. When I moved to Meadowlark Lane in Burnsville to be close to U100, the tree came along, at various times being on the first floor and the second floor. (The crazy place had 5 levels)

My move to KSTP in 1976 and a 16th floor apartment across from the U, doomed my almost five year relationship with my tree. It no longer had the look of a snow-frosted Christmas tree. Now, it was more the color of late-winter slush and if I spent any time near to it, my eyes would water, my lungs would clog, and my skin would itch. Although we actually moved the tree to Minneapolis, it never made it to the second floor. In a moment of decision, I consigned it to the basement dumpster.

My next Christmas tree was in Modesto in 1981. A real tree. A month after Christmas I made the mistake of breaking the tree apart and burning it in my fireplace. The needles turned to ash and there was a wonderful "snow" storm in my neighborhood. In San Francisco for Christmas 1982, I bought a wonderful tree in a rainstorm. It didn't last past January. The year round tradition returned in Tacoma with my first fake tree. Back in Modesto I kept a tree until I moved to SF in 1993. For almost 8 years my tree was in storage...waiting. In 2002, I decorated my tree and it remains today, soon to celebrate its 8th Christmas. At least once a year I de-decorate it, dust the bulbs and such and up-date the lights. Now, it's not just a Christmas tree. It's me.

I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas and a very happy 2010.

Rob

In my old age I've gotten terribly afraid of big bridges. I have always hated the Bay Bridge between Oakland and San Francisco. The eastbound bridge is better because it is "downstairs" but the westbound bridge is terrifying. But there are worse bridges. The High Bridge between Duluth and Superior is not only scary as hell but dangerous. I think a couple of cars flip off that bridge every year. But here is my scariest bridge. The Mackinaw Bridge. Long Long Long. High High High. Makes me want to start smoking again. Back in the days when I smoked and Ken Copper drank, we used to often talk about the sit-com CHEERS. I liked it but I remember Ken thought it was the perfect example of what a perfect sit-com should be like. We didn't talk about other sit-coms of that era....like MASH. I don't care much for MASH. Just when you thought that CHEERS couldn't be topped, along came SEINFELD. I want to add a couple of other shows that deserve to be included in that company. First....NEWHART. This is the show where he was Dick Loudan and ran the inn in Vermont. This is a great show. Funny Funny Funny. It got better as it ran and some of the shows from the last couple of seasons are sit-com classics deserving to be compared to the "shrinkage" or "masturbation" episodes of SEINFELD. They stand side by side with the greatest CHEERS episodes. Can't think of a funny one at the moment. I have a couple of obscure additions. When NEWHART ended with Dick (Bob) in bed with Suzanne Pleshette, another Bob Newhart sit-com had about a six episode run before it was canceled. I don't remember the name but it had one episode that would rank as one of the BEST sit-com single episodes ever written or broadcast. Same with another short-lived sit-com. Bette Midler. I still don't understand the REAL reason it was canceled, but it was the only sit-com that made me laugh so hard I farted. (It was only the second time I ever farted and I have not done so since)

Just some thoughts after being away for so long and worrying about dangerous bridges.

Rather than have the rumors fly, I thought I'd give my blog a heads-up. I won't be around a computer for a week, so my trivial pursuits won't be chronicled until next week some time. Some of my mail lately, has had some good attachments. I'll have to share them with you. Now...I have a three hour bus ride and then hopefully some pilots who won't miss where they're going.

I was thinking earlier today what our lives would be like if we all had a HOT LINE to answer.

I always thought the ubiquitous HOT LINE at radio stations were installed for emergency purposes. When I worked in Cedar Rapids there was a DJ who had a nervous break-down on the air. The first sign that "we have a problem Cedar Rapids!" was when the engineer heard the sound of the needle trailing along the final groove of the 45...over and over. At that point, the HOT LINE was rather useless. What good was it? The guy was cowering in the corner blubbering like So You Think You Can Dance judge. It wasn't like he was going to answer the HOT LINE and say the reason there is nothing on-the-air is because I just went nuts. Let me think of a trivial but necessary reason for a HOT LINE call. The DJ is playing a promo or spot that is out-of-date to the point it makes the station sound stupid or lose money. Good reason for a HOT LINE call. How about if the Jock steps on a vocal...or reads the liner with the music too hot....or doesn't answer the HOT LINE quickly?

I'm trying to remember if I ever got a PD HOT LINE call that was a compliment. Why not change the name to the CHICKEN-SHIT LINE. I got in trouble at KDWB when I got upset by a bunch of HOT LINE calls from the PD who used to work in Chicago and pulled the phone out wires and all and tossed in on the floor by the office door. Cost me, too. They made me pay for the repairs. One station I worked had a huge RED light that flashed when the HOT LINE rang. They even referred to it as the RED PHONE instead of the HOT LINE. I used to unscrew that infra-red thing about half and inch...just enough so it wouldn't blink. That got old..plus I was pissing someone off....so one night I did some extra curricular work after my shift. I carefully unscrewed the fixture with the bulb...pulled on the wire inside and cut the wire. I sort of frayed the wire so that it looked like, perhaps, a mouse had chewed it. The various folks from CSI would have sussed things out in a minute or two. Even if someone had taken off the fixture, like I did, all they would find is one of the wires..too short..to make the necessary connection. I had pushed the end down into the wall. It took them almost six months to fix.

Today, my aim was poor in the bathroom...I used a knife to cut a plum and nearly amputated my arm....I spilled salad dressing on a sofa pillow and just rubbed it until it sort of disappeared...and I returned from Barnes & Noble, took off my shorts, and didn't wear any pants for the rest of the day. I really should have been HOT LINED!

For some reason, I enjoy reading on the beach. In the sand. When I'm in the house, I'll read for an hour or so and then have to take a break. With the sound of the waves and wind as a back-ground, I can read for hours next to an ocean. For some reason, I crave Cheetos when I'm beaching. I'll bring along a diet Mountain Dew but it just makes me thirstier so a nice bottled water is nice. And a good book. Before I continue with this story, may I remind you that in Minnesota last week, I had my teeth cleaned. On my way out, the hygienist gave me some goodies including a new toothbrush. Cleaning out my bag I replaced the old toothbrush (with the clear handle) with the new toothbrush (with the blue handle). The clear handled toothbrush I put under the bathroom sink to use as a nooks & crannies cleaning tool. Now...back to the beach. I love the sand, the salt-water smell, the sun, and the Cheetos. I don't enjoy the sea-gulls. I especially don't like these beach-rats when they crap on my shoes. I've tossed tennies that have crap on them. These were brand new. When I got home I reached under the sink and used that old clear-plastic-handled toothbrush to clean out the nooks and crannies on my right-foot-gull-shit-shoe. I tossed the shoe into the hall-way and continued with the rest of the day. Last night before sleep, I went into the bathroom, grabbed a toothbrush, slathered on tooth-paste and began working on those pesky molars. About 10 strokes into the task, watching myself in the mirror, I noticed my toothbrush....with the clear plastic handle.....!!!!....!!!!!....

EEEWWWW!!

I had lunch with my older brother yesterday. I was really looking forward to eating something...well....decadent. I wanted a huge burger and fries. Or a patty-melt. Something soaking in grease or smothered with gravy. My brother chose the meat-loaf special. I didn't because I actually had some cold meat-loaf in the fridge. I went with the beef stew or biscuits. Obviously, I got some left-over stew micro-waved to the luke-warm consistency of flour paste. It had an abundance of peas and a shortage of beef. This gelatinous beige mixture was covering a couple of hockey pucks masquerading as biscuits. I had to use the butter knife to cut them into edible pieces. And here is the sad part. I actually finished it. I didn't enjoy even one bite. Last night I under-cooked some brussel sprouts and they were hard and bitter. I ate them all. At some point I am going to have to stop doing things I don't want to do. I should also stop doing things I THINK I want to do even though while doing those things I am not enjoying doing them. I don't even understand that and I swear I am totally sober. I need to get out of town.

Which temp would you choose. After my dentist appointment I'll let you guess. Now, I'm thinking of the beach and just to be different...strawberries or fresh pineapple and champagne. I KNOW I have a bottle of champagne in the fridge. "Moet et chandon...in a pretty cabinet." Now THAT is a great song! Killer Queen. You want to know another great song? I mean like all-time great. I mean when you hear it and you've had a few beers...or a lime Ricky or two...you might say..."That's the BEST song ever!". I Will Survive. Damn that's a good song. I used to really like War. (What is it good for? Good God, y'all..bump bump...etc)but I'm tired of it now and sort of like war. But...You can sing along to those songs. In the car those are songs you turn up loud. If I were riding in the car with my nephews and wanted to really piss them off the way it is so fun to do to latter-day generations...I'd sing along. ("At first I was afraid..I was petrified....") They look like they are going to throw up. LOL. ("She's a Killerrrrrrr Queen...gun powder, gelatine...." I have to stop this. I'm starting to sound like I actually think Oldies Stations are viable formats. The trouble with Oldies Stations is some ass-hole consultant...or National PD...is going to have you playing Gloria Gaynor and Queen AND...("In the summertime... when the weather is high....") Fuck Mungo Jerry! The problem is this is all a matter of opinion. And when some guy who couldn't hit the post if they were playing Stairway to Heaven...some consultant with a heart blacker than Olympia Snowe's hair...suggests that you should play Lover's Concerto three times a day you either meekly do it to keep your job and advance your career or you tell them to shove the Toys up their ass. I have to quit writing about this. I'm getting angry and my blood pressure is on the way north.

Being so psychologically fragile (lol), it doesn't take much to get me reaching for the Prozac. For the last dozen years, or so, I've hated having to make ANY sort of commitment. Last July I made a dentist appointment for October 14th. It's been bothering me since the beginning of August. I don't mind the dentist. I never have any real work done, anyway. A cleaning and a gentle reminder to floss. ("Of course, I promise, I will.....ahuh.") In fact, there is something almost sensual about reclining in that special chair while people stick things in your mouth. I feel the same way about hair-cuts. I am not sure I like when they wash it for you.....or when you are finished and they brush the hair off your crotch. And then there is all that body contact when they lean over you. If it is a woman hair-doer...and she is zoftig...then your elbow is constantly digging into her boob-side...and that reminds me of my grandmother. Not that I actually ever wanted to feel my Gram's boobs....in fact....I don't even want to think about her boobs. All this reminds me of ratings books. Damn, those were horrible times waiting for the 'book'. The fall ratings used to come out around Christmas and I can't count how many Christmas' were ruined. If it came out after Christmas and was good...you wasted all the pre-holiday time worrying. If it came out before Christmas and was bad....you had a horrible holiday. A while ago I was listening to a local late morning talk-show and they were talking about their 'good' book. What made it funny is that they actually believed their book was good because THEY were good. How about they got good ratings not because of quality but because people slow down and look at car wrecks. They don't even have the basics covered. They suck. The other day they suggested they might pursue syndication. Ha Ha Ha. Where? On the Suck Network? I was going to list all the things I don't like about their show but now I think it would sound like some cranky old man complaining about people taking a shortcut across his lawn. Now that I think of that ratings report card I realize that theater had some of that too. Ever so often I dig out an old show-tape or video tape of some theater thing and like any ego-maniacal exhibitionist, I get orgasmic at how good I was. With a good box of air-checks, who needs Viagra!

Sorry for the lack of content here. I just haven't felt much like writing. The ironic thing is I think of so many topics and rants and raves and then when I'm actually sitting in front of the computer....well....whatever. Don't you just hate the word "whatever"? The ultimate laziness. Whatever. When to see the HD theater feed of Tosca this afternoon and as usual, I was blown away. I love the opera and love going to it in person, but there is something so unique about seeing it up-close on that huge theater screen. A $350 dollar seat in the orchestra doesn't get you as close. I like seeing the beads of sweat pouring from beneath the soprano's wig.

Thanks for everyone who took the time to send me an email about our loss of Mesa. I just read them. Foolish, I know, but often I deal with bad things by ignoring them.

I DID get to the fair. It was sweet and sour and in the future I'll (maybe) write about it. The food, however, was primo. I loved my cream-puff. You just can't really enjoy it standing up. The fair needs more benches and more tables. IMHO. I can't really think of anything I ate there that knocked my sox off. Pretty much just the old stand-by stuff. On the radio-station front...KDWB has got to get rid of that ridiculous portable radio thing. Damn, it is ugly. Once again, IMHO, the best radio presentation at the fair was the Disney Station. At least THEY were engaging their audience. It was kind of funny to see a ton of pre-pubescent kids dancing in front of their stage. At KDWB someone had taken out the batteries in their boom box.

And...since it so often mentioned when I take these 'vacations'....my health is fine...at least physically. Mentally, I have lots of issues. And when some newspaper writer writes that My Story is "florid" of course I have to up the dosage of the latest psych-med. In 1981 a PD said my morning show was "puerile". I just recovered from that in 2007. Hold on a second....I'm going to google the definition of florid.......(Hum the Alex Trebek Music).........!!!!flowery; excessively ornate; showy!!!! ...I guess that's not too bad. I much prefer the synonyms...flamboyant, grandiloquent, rococo; flash, gaudy OK....it's too cold to go any place, so I think I'll have myself a little snack and drink a little wine and listen to some vinyl. I had some home-made white bread. I took three slices, spread cream cheese on one and home-made ham-salad on another. I had some shallots to thinly slice onto the cream cheese and some stuffed olives to slice onto the ham-salad. I put them together and cooled them off in the fridge with the wine. Now I'll cut off the crusts and slice them vertically into a series of little finger sandwiches. I have a third of a bottle of a Washington State Riesling and I think I shall sleep just fine.

I was back in Minnesota for the State Fair and spent some quality time with my nephew and his family south of The Cities. When finally I checked almost a month of email I belatedly received the news that Mesa had died. I didn't want to blog about it and I didn't want to think about it. The world just seemed a bit empty.

How Mesa fits into My Story is covered in various chapters; especially in the U100 parts. I interviewed her in my office in the basement at U100 and when she tried to leave, the door-knob came off in her hand. Our engineer had to take the door off the hinges so Mesa could leave. She kept the door-knob as a good luck charm.

U100 didn't last long so we never worked together again. I tried to entice her to San Francisco. That didn't work either. Whether you spent a lot of time with Mesa or just fleeting moments, she had an impact and that was the secret to her success. You just couldn't ignore Mesa Kincaid. The truth be told, she could have been an even greater success. She never reached the heights her talent deserved. She just did it her way.

She called me a summer ago. I was at a baseball game. The conversation went on for quite a while and ended with mutual pledges to 'do lunch'. It never happened, damn it.

So, our Mesa has climbed that mountain. Some day we'll climb it too. It isn't something I like to think about. Deep inside I know that on the other side of that big mountain are my Mom and Dad, my Grandma...and Mesa...with a great big purse...with a door-knob inside.

Sorry for my sudden disappearance. But, I'm back now. For an hour or two. Going south and hopefully will be able to work the State Fair into my meanderings. There is a Pronto Pup down there with my name on it. Have a great week-end and catch you soon.

When I was programming years ago, I think I had something wrong. Week-end scheduling. Think about this. If the standard programming is aimed at the standard Monday Through Friday worker, with Saturday or Sunday (or both) off, why did we fiddle with programming on Monday morning?

Let's say you are a listener who has to be at work by 8 am and you have a 45 minute commute. Or longer...or earlier. The point is that on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday morning you wake and listen to the last few moments of the 'regular' all-night program and then the morning show begins. But the way we programmed, the 'regular' all-night programming wasn't there on Monday morning. We used that time to maintain the transmitter or sign-off the air in some cases...or as I frequently hear now, continue different week-end programming. On Saturday morning (early) we had the 'regular' all night programming even thought the standard listener was sleeping in on Saturday morning.

Does any of this make any sense? I'm just suggesting that the schedule for the 'regular' all night now should be Monday thru Friday rather than Tuesday thru Saturday. Assuming the show starts at midnight. Or 2am. The 'week-end' programming SHOULD begin at Midnight Friday (00:01 Saturday or 02:00 Saturday). This seems more consistent to me.

Another question? ....oh, forget it. I'm already confused.

Let me ruin your day. Have you ever wondered why old men smell funny? Not laugh funny but weird funny. When you walk into an old man's house (assuming he no longer has an old woman around) it smells like an old man's house. When I was a teenager I used to deliver groceries for my Dad. Every house had a unique signature smell and blindfolded I could have down a good job matching the house with the smell.

So...back to geezer smell. Face it. It's pee. I was in an old man's house (not me...another one) today and it had that old man smell. Pee smell. You see, when guys get old they start peeing like 10-15 times a day. With ever pee there is a little dribble. Well...you start getting 10-15 dribbles a day that's a lot of pee. Can we assume that each pee is accompanied by 3 dribbles. That's 45 dribbles per day. There are two solutions to this problem. Change your underwear after every pee or pull on the elastic and sprinkle the area with some cheap cologne. If it works for women, it will work for men.

That sort of makes me laugh thinking of some old guy with a wiener that smells like English Leather.

Television sucks so supremely that I spend less and less time with it. It may seem like I watch for hours each day but today is an example of what is most often the case. I didn't turn the television on until about 3:30PM and turn it off at 7:30PM. And I wasn't glued to it during those hours. Most of the day I read. Nothing particularly uplifting. Just reading for entertainment. When I wake during the night, I read. I wake at about 7:30 each morning and first thing grab my book. I read before bed and while I eat. I sit outside and read and take a book with me to McDonald's. I wish I could read in the shower and while I brush my teeth. In Modesto I walked a lot. From my house to the movies was about three miles. I walked it dozens of times, trudging along the sidewalk, reading. I got to the point where I would automatically chart my course every few sentences. I smashed into street signs and parking meters but it never caused any major scars. During the last few years of my radio career, I rode a bicycle (pedal) in Modesto. For 7 years in San Francisco, my bike was my primary mode of transportation. That's where the rumor arose that I was living in San Francisco and peddling my ass all over town. Walking, pedaling, and cadging for rides can be inconvenient at times but versus the trials and tribulations of car ownership, I loved it. I know people do it but I can't read while driving. I can't even look at the pictures. Somewhere on this blog or on the website I wrote about walking in foggy San Fran after seeing the remastered My Fair Lady. It was a special walk I'll always remember. Another was in Modesto in the fall of 1989. I was walking back from something (can't remember what) on a cool dark night. On the DiscMan (lame) was playing Les Miz or Phantom or Chess...whatever....and I was walking in beat with the music (almost marching), the flaps of my trench coat flapping in the wind. It was exhilarating. I loved every minute of that walk. But then, one night, after green-Jello wrestling Gary DeMaroney, going to a play rehearsal, and missing my ride home, I walked home, tired, cold, and sticky. The walk was Hell and I caught a cold. I am often a cheap bastard. Anyway, I can still read. I miss all that walking.

I just love going on Craig's List and causing trouble. Just now someone told me to go and 'eat a bowl of dog fuck'. Now THAT was pretty funny. Thanks to the wonderful internet I am about to start watching So You Think You Can Dance Canada. The US one is just wrapping up. I struck up a conversation with someone while traveling...something I seldom do....and we ended up talking about So You Think You Can Dance. Why didn't he start talking to me about sports television or the latest on the political scene? Nope! First thing out of his mouth was, "Do you watch that dance show on TV?" I asked him if he meant Dancing With The Stars. Since most of their audience are just back from the Senior Meal at Old Country Buffet, I was offended. When he told me it was So You Think....I was offended again. I'm just going to have to man-up! I was on the street car in San Francisco and a guy sat next to me. In spite of the fact I had ear phones on he persisted in starting a conversation with the comment, "Bill Clinton and Al Gore are butt buddies." That was enough to get me to remove my ear phones. I asked him where he heard that and he told me..."c'mon..it's a well known fact". The guy who wondered about So You Think You Can Dance must have been related because he told me that Benji...the winner several seasons ago.....had a big...well....you know. He might have used the word...huge. Yuppers. Benji has a huge you know. Of course that ruins it for me because now, whenever I see Benji dance I'll think of ...you know....flopping about. When they are 'huge' they have a tendency to flop. Or so I've read.

I was on another street car in San Francisco and some Turret's woman was swearing and making unfortunate noises. I laughed. Some guy who looked like a tree-hugger whipped around and berated me for laughing. After taking his abuse I told him, "But...it still is funny". That guy probably has an extremely small you know.

If you are curious (and perverted) Google Benji Schwimmer.

The weather is crap. At least it is if you want sun and warmth. Actually, these gray cool days remind me of San Francisco and I actually like that kind of weather. My brother wants to play golf, though, so for him I will wish for nicer weather.
When you have spent some time 'doing things', my usual routine of 'doing nothing' isn't much fun. I've been bored as hell for the last two days. Today I'm going to WalMart. Golly! I live the fast life.
I was listening to the radio and was reminded of ever jock's nightmare. For those who have never been behind the mike, there is a basic fact of radio every DJ must understand. The DJ has to assume there is someone listening. No one applauds when you hit the post. Nobody laughs when you deliver the punch line. When you read the liners, there aren't any awes from the radio audience peanut gallery.
Exception!! The current trend of studio audiences and side-kicks assuage this feeling of loneliness. When you have a couple of people in the studio with you there is feedback. Instant feedback. If you are paying them...good feedback.
Every station I've worked at had one fast rule. NO VISITORS IN THE STUDIO. Is there any rule in radio, violated more? Taking a chance on your job, or at least, boss displeasure, is worth having an audience.
So, kudos to the DJ who labors alone in a studio, whispering or shouting into a microphone connected by some electronic magic to someone who laughs, awes, and applauds. We hope.
And then something happens that breaks this fragile connection.
Yesterday, I was listening to the radio and the DJ had some Minnesota Twins tickets to give away. Granted, the game was that same night and in Minneapolis, 130 miles away, but still...these were 4 damn good tickets. "Be caller number 10!" How many times have we said those words? "Be caller number 10!"
About 40 minutes later, the DJ said, "We still have those Twins tickets....call now and be caller number 5."

Suicide!

The few times this happened to me I was ready to walk out the door and do what my parents wanted. The lack of response to an on-the-air-plea is an ego deflating situation that ranks right up there with: "We're letting you go.", "You're IQ is 94.", "Let's just be friends", and "Is it in?"

It has happened to me. I really wonder if there was ever a moment while I was 'talking on the radio' when there was no one...not one living soul....listening? It seemed like it.

WAIT! The phone is blinking! Forget it. It was the fucking PD on the red line.

An unexpected vacation is the simple reason I haven't blogged in July. I know that earlier in the summer I hadn't planned on leaving this beautiful area, but......
I had an available lap-top. I used it regularly to keep up-to-date on the various right-wing political blogs that have me addicted. I also regularly went to Hulu for the important things...like....what was happening on America's Got Talent and Hell's Kitchen. A friend in Canada even recorded So You Think You Can Dance so I wouldn't miss a Jete'.
For some reason, I couldn't remember my pw to post here! I couldn't log on to my robsherwood.com email!

Enough excuses. I'm back from vacation and anxious to write about my side of things.
The choir is welcome to sing along.

Ed McMahon dies. Farah Fawcett dies. Michael Jackson dies. But wait! There's more!

Personally, I am a little tired of it all. I can only mourn so much, so often. I have to save a little grief in case someone I really like dies. For the time being, I would like to think of people who are alive that I really like.

I'm thinking......

I'll think of someone...just wait......

That's a lame joke anyway. I am really tired and now I don't really know why I started this blog. And so....to bed.

I had a chance on Monday to walk down my Bahamian Memory Lane. As I mentioned the last time I was here, I had an appointment for an echo cardiogram on Monday afternoon. (The results: Heart is fine albeit dark and cold) The tech who administered the test was from Nassau. After wondering aloud how he ended up 135 miles north of the United States Of America (he was a temp), we talked about my frequent trips to the islands in the 70's. I had forgotten how much fun it was. At some point he asked me where I lived before coming back to Duluth. When I said San Francisco, he said, "I THOUGHT so!" I thought so? What? He went on to say I struck him as 'artsy'. ARTSY? The word the properly follows artsy is fartsy. Now, why didn't he think I was from Alaska and was a retired ice-road trucker? How about, "You're so butch I assumed you were a bronc rider from Texas." Next thing I expected him to compliment me on my child-bearing hips! Perhaps I shouldn't be so sensitive.

I may be violating another of the Cardinal Sins here. As you know, I don't do well on the Cardinal Sins. On the Ten Commandments I do better. I'm thinking. Isn't it REALLY thou shalt not murder? I know I haven't murdered. (except for several bottles of rum on some Bahamian beach back in the 70's) I'm trying to think about any graven images I've had before me. Hmmmm. Does that, like, include that huge Bob's Big Boy outside the restaurants? On questions of this sort I usually go to the source....Charleton Heston. He couldn't answer me. He was busy. Someone was trying to pry a rifle out of his hands.

There is a small hallway leading to the main bedroom in Duluth. I walk back and forth down that hallway at least 20 times a day when I am in Minnesota residence. Maybe more. A few moments ago, after lunching on a diet Mountain Dew, and anticipating an appointment at 3:30, I toddled down the hallway and noticed for, perhaps, the 100th time, a movie ticket stub, off to one side on the floor. I dropped it there in April!

Ah, there's the rub. If I am too lazy to pick up a tiny scrap of card-stock for two months, why should you expect me to regularly up-date this blog or my web-site? I can apply that same laziness to email replies, lunches with friends, and visits to relatives. I certainly have committed all of the Cardinal Sins.

A written rendering of my daily SLOTH would take more effort than I can even imagine.

And THERE, my friends is the simple explanation of why I am such a bum.

I just finished watching something, I decided to share. The contrast is startling. click here Not as slick, but a lot more real.

It is going to be a quiet holiday. I got together with family yesterday afternoon for a small afternoon alfresco meal. My brother grilled a most perfect hamburger. The get-together was nothing special but at the same time wonderfully special, sitting in plastic Adirondack's with my brothers. Others made the sacrifices and we enjoy the results.

I had some left over cold pizza for breakfast. I'm beginning to think I like pizza left-over and cold better than hot and fresh. It suits my libido.

I thought the bitch with the eyeliner was going to win!

My company left yesterday and last night at about 11pm I heard from LA and he arrived back in California safe and sound. Ted left behind a nicely painted bedroom and bathroom and some freshly baked cookies in the cookie jar. I was going out of town this week-end so the rest of the project has to wait until next week.
I know there are some things to comment on but I am drawing a blank. Maybe I'll go to a movie. I should go to Target. I could go on Craigslist and cause some shit. Oops. Have to make my bed. This is so f-ing boring I might as well be on Twitter. At least now that my company is gone I can sit at the computer in my underwear and not close the bathroom door when I take a shower.

Is it rude to blog while you have company? Guests? On the week-end of the 1st my good friend from California, Ted, came to visit. I've known Ted since the mid 90's and it is refreshing to know someone who didn't know me when I thought I was someone. (I tried to make that sentence as humble as possible) I've known Ted for more than 12 years and he still doesn't know what to call me. He isn't part of the Rob era....he knows my family has several names for me (including Ass Hole)...and then there was a period of time when I was Scrappy....He gave up about 10 years ago and calls me Bro. Getting back to his visit. I've been planning to re-paint my master bedroom for a while. Three years ago I painted it maroon (walls and ceiling) and I was ready for a change. After doing some virtual experimenting at the Benjamin Moore site, I decided on leaving the maroon on the ceiling and going with a golden bronze on the walls. Ted and I picked up a couple of gallons of paint and some primer and while I sat in the chair kibitzing, Ted got to work. When the golden bronze was on the first wall, I knew we had a problem when Ted kept referring to the color as "mustard". I was in total denial and said it was GOLD. (I once had a call that I said was Gold and everyone else said was light brown!!!) After painting two walls in "mustard" I told Ted to stop while I thought about it. Just before I fell asleep that night I realized that with the maroon ceiling and "mustard" on the walls my bedroom looked like a frat house at the University of Minnesota and all I needed along with the school colors was a huge letter "M" on the ceiling and Goldie the Golden Gopher lounging on my bed. The next morning I awoke to the realization that my two walls weren't mustard....they were baby-shit yellow. It was back for more paint. This time I opted for a color called Golden Champagne. After re-priming the two mustard walls, Ted began covering them in Golden Champagne. Two walls later I realized that I had traded French's Mustard walls for Grey Poupon walls. I was spending so much money replacing paint-rollers I was thinking of applying for some stimulus money. The 3rd time was the charm with the golden Champagne traded in for a lighter champagne. I like to think I sort of went from Andre' to Perrier Jouet ($3 vrs $155). Now the problem I'm having is with all the extra layers of paint on the wall, the room got smaller and now I don't have room for all my furniture. I could go from a King Size bed to a Queen size bed but then I wouldn't have room for Goldie the Golden Gopher.

Later, my friends....Rob

You may be surprised to know there is another chapter for April...two in April!!!! I didn't get to do much spell-checking or editing in order to get it on. Hope you enjoy it. I've had a cold for three days and it just isn't going away. Wait! I can't add. Make that 5 days. Mainly a cough and sore throat. I was worried it was Swine Flu when the cough developed into an oink...but it was a false alarm. Later, I spent the afternoon rolling around in my own shit, but that was also a false alarm. I am pleased to report that I don't eat pork unless it contains nitrites so I feel I am safe. You don't get it from pig meat anyway. It's Cheney's fault anyway. Did anyone watch American Idol on Tuesday. I actually downloaded four of the five performances for my Ipod. I love those old standards. And Kris sang my all-time favorite 'standard' and certainly one of my top 10 every genre songs. I like it. I can't think of anything else to say. Have a good night...day....week...life.

Rob

I meant to write and mention the Italian restaurant we ate at on my birthday. I can't remember the name. It starts with V. It's new. It's on London Road sort of kitty-corner across from the old armory. It was good. Waiter was fine. Salad was nice. Plenty of bread and drink re-fills. My brothers had the spaghetti meatball special and it looked tasty. My brother did notice one thing, though. When we used to buy the spaghetti platter at the old Cafe Di'Napoli in Minneapolis the sauce adhered to the noodle. Isn't that an old Italian curse? "May your sauce not stick to the pasta!"

Anyway....the sauce at startswithvonlondonroadkittycornerfromthearmory did seem to stick. I had a flashback to Vanessi's in SF where I enjoyed many a plate of spaghetti carbanera. They used to make it at your table...it was sinfully delicious. At startswithavetc.... the sauce was equally sinful but it was just a Venial Sin. The best part of the whole meal was spending the time with my brothers.

For some reason I caught another cold. This is my second cold in the last 6 weeks. I guess I'll veg and drink OJ. And yes...I wish it would rain. I like the rain.

At some point in the distant past the significance of April 22nd faded. When I was a kid I anticipated my birthday for weeks....mainly for the celebration and less for the gifts. Now, there is only slight celebration and no gifts. It is certainly at case of one gets what they gives because I am terrible at remembering birthdays. I want to remember. I like it when I do. But....oh well...what are you going to do? Anyway....I'm killing time waiting for celebration. I am going to a recently established Italian restaurant to consume carbs. What I miss is my Grandmother's raspberry chiffon pie. I want a birthday pie rather than a birthday cake although if I HAD to have a cake I didn't my my Grandmother's Yellow Angel Food cake. It looked like a regular Angel Food Cake but I guess she left in some yolks and it was yellow rather than white and moister and soooo good. They have something like it at this dessert place in SF that they drizzle with orange stuff and wouldn't mind celebrating with a slice or three of it. My great-nephew's birthday was this past week-end and his gift is on the way. I am getting him a gorilla costume. Seems like a good gift for an 8 year old. Oh...the movie yesterday..wasn't so great. Saw that movie with Ben Affleck and that guy from Australia....forgotten the name...anyway.....waaay too slow for me. On the way home, thought, I bought a wonderful baguette and was just perfect with cold butter. Sometime in the middle of the night I woke and had another piece of baguette with peanut butter..plus an ice-cold glass of milk. Life is good.

Rob

PS: I did have a few great Birthday parties in the late 80's and 90's. Remember Moon? Come to think of it....I've had a bunch of good ones.

I was planning to catch up with some blogging and also finish up on another chapter of My Story....but....I unexpectedly spent the week-end out of town. Among the hot spots was the Mall in Mankato. Now....that's entertainment! A few years ago I began a quest to have a Made-Rite. I used to love those loose meat sandwiches when I worked in Cedar Rapids. There was a Made-Rite just around the corner from the laundromat and while my whitie-tighties tumbled, my stomach rumbled with a few buns full of loose-meat. Damn! That sounded really pornographic. Just about everything sounds pornographic. Anyway, thanks to some timely emails I found out that now only were Made-Rites still in business but the closest one to Duluth was in St. Cloud. That was almost 5 years ago. Last year on a visit to that mall in Mankato I espied a faux Made-Rite and was sorely disappointed. Sometimes a cigar is just a smoke. In this case just because it was a loose meat sandwich it wasn't the Made-Rite of my memory. This week-end the proof was in the pudding...or the loose-meat sandwich....because the Made-Rite-In-Sheep's-Clothing was shuttered and gone. That's ok because over-all it was a gastronomic Tsunami since Friday and I really didn't need any loose-meat. Friday night we ate at Applebee's...my tongue did not throw a party for my mouth. On Saturday we hit Sonic for lunch. I LOVE their double-cheese and generally prefer Sonic to In-And-Out. Blasphemy! Sorry. I was the only one in the car so inclined, though, the rest thinking it was drek. In Mankato we had breakfast at Old Country Buffet on Sunday. On top of that were some BBQ and also some Shish-Kabobs. I still feel full. Well, I know there was something I was suppose to do or say here but I can't remember what it was. No problem...I'm going to see a movie and trying to build up the resolve to pass on the popcorn. Take care.

I made a pledge that I would get back to blogging this week-end and catch up with my mail and all the other stuff I have been neglecting. I'm up early, however, to leave town for the week-end and for a week won't be around. Just so you know, I'm traveling and not dead. Well....maybe I'm traveling and dead from the waist down....but that doesn't count. Have a good week-end and......whatever.

Rob

I am happy to write here that Chapter 25 is just a few clicks away. I invite you to check it out and drop me a line with your comments. Every performer needs some applause.

I don't have much else to right at the moment except...at some point last fall I wrote that I though Barack Obama was a tool. He's my President now and guess what?....He is still a tool!.

Sorry to offend my lib readers.
Rob

I will start this little blog with one of the most dreaded phrases in blogdom...."I remember"....
The first time I drove to California I was somewhere on Route 66 when in the distance I saw Pike's Peak and the beginning of the Rocky Mountains appear in front of me. I was in awe. They looked about 30-40 miles away and I anticipated driving into real mountains for the first time in my life. In fact they were a couple of hundred miles distant and it took me hours to reach them.

There are some memories we never forget. They become etched on our brain in a special way usually not reserved for facts and figures. My memory is not of the mountains. I've seen lots of mountains. Mountains almost beyond description. The Swiss Alps, the Austrian Alps, the mountains of the Cascade Range in Washington and Oregon, and the high Rockies of the U.S. and Canada. My memory of Pike's Peak is unique because of the sadness that overcame me because I was experiencing this moment alone. I wanted so much to share it with someone. That shattering loneliness at that moment is what was etched into my memory.

This afternoon I went to see Madama Butterfly. In all seriousness it was wonderful. My sheer joy as I experienced this performance is beyond any words I can write. Butterfly was the first opera I saw in live performance. I was eleven. Those hours at Northrup Auditorium on the U of M campus are a memory I've held for decades. In the years I have left, I will always remember this afternoon, in the dark, moved to tears by a story and performance, unimaginably beautiful. I will also remember the tinge of regret that, like that mountain, I experienced it...alone.

Well, I wasted February didn't I? With the help of a miscreant computer for an excuse, I managed not to do anything. The good news, however, is that my computers are working, virus free, thanks to a total re-install. More good news is that I am a backer-upper and my loss of data was minimal. Actually, I didn't lose a thing. So now I'm going to spend the day catching up and see if I can come with some March Surprises.

Well, as a friend said, "If you wouldn't surf to those kinky sites, you wouldn't get into trouble."

YadaYadaYada! I got a virus! I knew my computer had been attacked almost before it happened. My esteemed webmaster did some research and it is a known virus and a real pisser! After screwing around with things for a while the upshot is that when windows turns on...the virus turns it off. Solution....a data wipe and re-install. Fortunately I didn't loose much stuff since I back-up and store most everything on external drives.

While I wait for the fix-up I have resuscitated my old Compaq and here I am. Haven't used it in three years and just installing the Windows Updates last night took almost 2 hours. There were 38 of them. I'm traveling this week-end and won't be back until Tuesday....in the meantime....stay away from Lactatingmidgetsluts.com

Rob

Over on the main site at Find it Here the story continues with some more of my first stretch in Modesto, California. I am already working on the next chapter. I've gotten some great email from old friends/fans and this week I HAVE to answer some of them. It was great to hear from Captain Billy last month and when I checked this morning Bob Brokeman...Sales Manager at U100....dropped me a comment-line. As usual he reminded me of stories and people whose names I've forgotten. I'll tuck those away for a some-day update.

Since I'm here a couple of quick comments! Defiance....good movie. Would have loved to have someone to talk to after I saw it because it prompted a bunch of deep thoughts.....Taken...going to it today and my brother reports....excellent. Even though politically it wasn't my cup of tea, Nixon & Frost was really good....you have to admire Opie! I've seen some others that I liked but save for later.

Good game yesterday but for most of that game the Vikes could have played just as well as the Cards. My opinion! Politically, I am quite enjoying the current 'season'. What a bunch of maroons! ...and that includes the lily-livered, pusillanimous, so-called Republicans who would benefit by growing a pair! Of course Olympia Snow being one of them the preceding doesn't necessary apply... I'm rambling and I have shower, fluff and douche and get going.

Will someone please tell me when the last bit of snow melts. I'm not going near Minnesota until I hear it is all gone!

Now that I have the 'tools' necessary to keep this stuff going...I must say that I have been suffering from robsherwood.com withdrawal for about 6 weeks. And I must also say that the intervention didn't work....I have fallen off the wagon...and as Dolly Parton remarked...Here We Go Again......

One of the many perks of spending a little time here is hearing from people I didn't expect to hear from...ever. Add to that list....My FIRST morning man at U100...Captain Billy. It was great to get an update on the last 33 years!!!...and also it was nice to get a chance to apologize for anything I wrote in the U100 Story that I shouldn't have written. The fact is...I have come to realize...in almost every situation I probably could have done a better job of handling things. Anyway....he said some nice things...my heart cockles were warmed...and he is part of MY story and I am part of his....and that's the way it goes.

Hope you all had a nice Christmas and New Year while I was ignoring things. I can't ignore any longer. Your two cents is always welcome.

Rob

A few months ago I got a forward and I've saved it for tonight...

"Jeffrey Shapiro, an attorney, wrote an excellent column in (the) Wall Street Journal... He said, in part, “The treatment President Bush has received from this country is nothing less than a disgrace. The attacks launched against him have been cruel and slanderous proving to the world what little character and resolve we have. The president is not to blame for all these problems. He never lost faith in America or her people, and has tried his hardest to continue leading our nation during a very difficult time. Our failure to stand by the one person who continued to stand by us has not gone unnoticed by our enemies. It has shown to the world how disloyal we can be when our president needed loyalty – a shameful display of arrogance and weakness that will haunt this nation long after Mr. Bush has left the White House.” Enough said.

I am back and ready for a prodigious year. I have to start writing some stuff before I forget it all. I am over the Vikings, Al Freaken, President BHO, panty-waist repuglicans, etc. etc. etc.

I just have to get my schedule wrapped around the New Year. Thanks for the Christmas wishes. I'll catch up with everything later.

I certainly didn't mean to ignore my blog for so long....but I just got involved with stuff and....well....you know. Of course I will apologize. And I am also sorry I didn't complete my next chapters of My Story as promised. Well...I'll try to do better after Christmas.

I LOVE THIS HOLIDAY

I haven't accomplished anything...ANYTHING...this Christmas. My gift giving will be uninspired. All the dear friends I have ignored will remain so. All I can do is have a La Cage moment and sing loudly..."Life's not worth a damn...Til you can say, 'Hey World! I am what I am."

So...do something wonderful for Christmas. Tell someone you love them. Eat a lot...and remember why we are celebrating.

Late on Christmas Eve I'll get a special feeling. Like a mantle of new-fallen snow, a feeling of contented anticipation as I sit in the dim light of the twinkling Christmas tree. Outside....

"The market place is empty
No more traffic in the street.
All the builders' tools are silent
No more time to harvest wheat;
Busy housewives cease their labors,
In courtrooms no debate.
Work on earth is all suspended,
As the King comes thru the gate.

Oh, the King is coming,
The King is coming!
I just heard the trumpets sounding,
And now I see His face.

Oh!The King is coming.
The King is coming.
Praise God! He's coming for me!"

....the goose is getting fat.....

I went to see Australia this afternoon. I enjoy these type of movies. It was basically a cattle drive and could have been John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara. One thing I wonder about a lot of Aussie movies....does there always have to be an Aborigine reference and/or story-line? I guess their history with those people is pretty miserable ... and recent.

Someone asked me recently to recommend some restaurants in Duluth...hmmm. That's a hard one. (That's what she said.) I mentioned the Pickwick. In a sort of old-fashioned way,I love lunch at the Pickwick. BTW...the Pickwick onion rings are some of the best in the world. When I was a kid, my parents used to take me for Chinese food in West Duluth at the Cody Hotel. It was the epitome of non-authentic, American-style, Chinese food. (Lots of sprouts) For some reason, they served toast with the Chop Suey. Just regular buttered white-bread toast. For years, I loved having toast with my egg foo young, or moo goo guy pan. The Chopstick Inn on 4th street is one of those great non-authentic Chinese food places. Cheap and tasty...and next time I'm going to ask if they can make me toast.

Across the bridge in Superior, Wisconsin are some great bar/hamburger joints. I like a burger to be juicy and greasy and slopping and full of fried onions and stuff. Mostly, I like to eat and talk. Fuck the food.

It will be December on the next blog! Where has this year gone?

Hello Possums!

Damn, I wish I had thought of Dame Edna before Dame Edna thought of Dame Edna. I got to see her one woman show in SF a few years ago and I laughed so hard I thought I was going to faint. I have a history of doing that. Just this past week-end something made me laugh so hard I had trouble getting my breath. I can't remember what was so amusing. It wasn't the Vikings game OR the weather.

This weather is so depressing. I got here in time to see snow and snow sucks. I am not sure how long it will take my body to adjust to this weather. Last night when I got in bed, the temperature in my bedroom was 76 degrees. That's warm...even for me. I DO, however, enjoy wasting carbon fuels and distorting my carbon footprint. Later today I intend to waste some gasoline, contribute to de-forestation in Brazil, and laugh at the poor and lame.

Well, I just took a few minutes to up-load a few more pictures to the picture area. Not many of them were radio station pictures but you are welcome to surf thru anything there, comment if you like, and download at your pleasure.Pix Here

I undecorated my Christmas tree last night and now that I have cleaned all the decorations, I have to string some new lights (3 strings burned out). I've had that tree up for 7 years now. Perhaps, I'll take it down after Christmas and take a break.

I'm still hung-over. I'm going to the movies.

Now where did we leave off? I was surfing looking for pics that I could use in this blog and also in my story. Its amazing how difficult it is to find them. I got all excited when I found a site with some K101 pix but then realized they were from the late 70's. The search continues. So far I have struck out on 'inside' pix of KO93.

Just a quick note about buffets. Generally, I find them fun. I like going to them by myself because I can read and eat slowly. Today, most everyone eats much too quickly. Of course maybe I am eating much to slowly. I have a good friend in SF who will not eat at a buffet because he thinks too many people have breathed on the food. Anyway, I so far have not NOT found a Pizza Buffet that is as good as just ordering the pie...well....alone.

I just checked my email and found out Rey Lark had died.

I met Rey in 1969 when I went to work at KDWB. He was one of the Engineers and the entire time I was there worked the night shift. In MY STORY I have mentioned Rey often. Not only was he the best broadcast engineer I've ever worked with, but he was also the nicest.

In those early days, I'd sit in the KDWB staff lounge and chat with Rey while he ate a Swanson's Franks & Beans TV Dinner. Later, we hired him as the Chief Engineer at U100 where he helped me to achieve my vision. I can't remember Rey ever telling me something "couldn't be done". At WEBC he was always there with advice. The last time I saw Rey was years ago when I was at K101. Rey loved to go to the big broadcasting equipment convention and that year it was close enough to SF that he dropped by for a visit. He stayed with me for a couple of days and we reminisced. Good things were ahead for Rey when he got his own station.

I know he was aware of my website. I hope he got to read it and wasn't insulted. Rey will be remembered.Rey-1975