On this last day of January, I HAD to do some blogging. The monthly blog record was already broken, but an extra bit of frosting on the cake won't hurt.

Many people in the Minnesota part of the country will tell you their favorite season is Fall. There is much to like. Brisk temperatures, crystal clear shocking-blue skies, and that lovliest of events...the Indian Summer. But think about this. In the Autumn there is nothing to look forward to but WINTER! However, on those bitter cold winter days, with nothing to recommend them, you know that soon it will be SPRING!

"Oh. Wind. If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?" Some nineteenth century poet nailed it with that one.

I didn't get a January My Story episode completed but I'll finish it soon and nag and carp until it gets posted. "A tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing". Now THAT is Shakespeare! Way to go Willie.

BTW, I am a man of many pantronymics and Sherwood is just one of them. More people know me by that name and call me Rob, than any of the others. I am no longer in radio but you can still call me Rob. I have many names. For years the alumni of U100 called me Buns. A few diehards used Wonder Buns. While working at FM104 with Gary DeMaroney he called me Buns. Somewhere in Utah, on a Greyhound bus, some smart-ass teenagers started calling me Scrappy. There are a bunch in SF who still use that name. The name Buff was always problematic so I often used the name Michael. I have friends in Taiwan who call me by that name and even another in LA who uses Mike. I like nicknames.

I am back in Northern Minnesota for the Super Bowl. Funny, because they're holding it in Arizona! I went to some fabulous Super Bowl parties in San Francisco, but none are so much fun as spending it with my slightly retarded brothers. Besides, San Francisco is just losing its panache. Most of the time it is just another big-dirty-fucked up city with hills. At least it isn't boring. In Duluth I get a thrill going to the food-court at the Mall or eating lunch at Old Country Buffet. In San Francisco I went to a porno store and the customers were freaking because they no longer carry the whopper. I guess it is what you are in the mood for.

Enjoy the Super Bowls...I personally would like to see an upset. See you in February....

Rob

You know we are getting closer to the Central Valley of California in the Never Ending Story because the Modesto-ites, or Modestinians, Modestopods, or what-ever are become roused by the boredom of the almost 20 years of prologue. There are a couple of regulars who prod me forward in anticipation and a newbie who just wrote the other day. (Heidi....I loved your email and meant to reply but must have oops!'d it. Write again.) I will write a bunch about the Morning Show Live Studio Audience 8-9 years down the line (in the story). Heidi reminded me of the Morning Show connection to Paula Abdul. She once squeezed my knee, but that is another story. (I needed the money) For some reason, in 1990 or so, we started doing some in-studio things to entertain the Live Audience. For some other reason, this included a lame Chippendale dance to Cold Hearted. Under my clothes, I would be prepared with a pair of red, white and black spandex bike shorts. These would be revealed during a promptu strip-tease. (We planned it so it couldn't be impromptu. Right?)

Eventually, the music and dance were done only in-studio, while something else was actually on-the-air. Heidi says she has a video. That got me wondering how many other people have videos and/or pictures. I remember a lot of photographing going on. Imagine years from now when someone looks at a picture of this guy with scraggly-blonde hair, a flowing silk shirt and red, white and black speedos dancing his ass off in a broadcast studio. (Lots of changes in the old Rob in California)There will be a few 'wtf's' right before the picture is consigned to the trash.

These were a few of my happiest years and now I can't wait to get to that part of My Story.

So there I was, sitting at a bar at a restaurant in San Francisco when Paul Abdul squeezed my knee and said, "Rob, you are so funny!" Now I watch her on American Idol and wonder if I still want her to squeeze my knee and if I am still "so funny".

Rob

My brother is on his way with his jump machine. The cold was too much for the land-boat I drive here and rather than grind the battery down to click-click-click, I just said, "f-it" and returned to the TV and the Giant's glorious victory over the legions of evil.

The Packers haven't always been at the bottom of my hit-parade or the top of my shit list. After all, I worked in Green Bay and watched the games every week-end. I actually knew Bart Starr and saw the other greats of that era regularly about town. There is always a soft spot in my heart for the hapless Vikings, always the bridesmaid and never the bride. Or an even better one: jilted at the altar....FOUR TIMES! Still, as I moved about the country I adopted the local team so I will admit I was a Seattle Seahawks fan, a super 49'ers fan (almost obsessed on that one) and shamefully, at one time I rooted for the Pack. It was easy though because at least in one case they played Dallas and that team spends the off-season on one of the lower rings of Hell.

If the Pack had won, I would be a Patriots fan. Now I can go with the underdawg and hope for the upset. Either way, the chicken wings will be spicy and the chips full of dip.

That cold in Green Bay you saw on TV, I remember well. In late December of 1966, my Pontiac Catalina convertible decided it would rather fight than run and I was forced to walk to work. About a mile. It wasn't the first time because there wasn't any convenient parking next to the radio station building in the downtown. Not only did I walk to work but I frequently RAN home. Now it was winter, the car wasn't cooperating and I bundled up like Roger Staubuck and got to work. For the next 2 1/2 months. When I finally decided it was time to get the car going, it started without too much problem but the wheels were frozen to the ground. I had to get warm water and splash about before I could move them.

Maybe I'll just walk where I have to go and run back. And maybe I'll plan for a cardiac infarction later this afternoon. Something to break the ennui.

Rob

It was too cold today to do anything.

This afternoon I went to see Sweeny Todd. Just an aside...when I saw Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman I was whacked that they sang as well as they did. Hugh Jackman can really sing...saw his Oklahoma. Time and again I am surprised at how well screen actors can sing. Well, Lloyd Bentson knew John Kennedy. John Kennedy was Lloyd Bentson's friend and Johnny Depp is no John Kennedy. Neither is he Sweeny Todd. That wasn't the only mis-cast. Mrs. Lovett was poorly cast. The rest had some interesting casting takes but overall, I was once again disappointed by a movie musical. It was close, but no cigar!

When I started this weBLOG I didn't plan on a movie review. I planned to write about compromise. I like to sit close. At the movies, I want to be enveloped in the experience and am most happy when I am so close I must rotate my head in tennis-match-audience-fashion when there is a face to face conversation on screen. I don't understand sitting so far back the screen so distant it looks like a 32" television. Most people prefer to sit in the middle, I guess. I have never been much of an 'in-the-middle' sort of guy. So the subject of compromise. If I go to the movie with someone who isn't retarded (seems a lot of retarded people sit close) they wish to sit towards the back. I wish to sit towards the front. If they sit close (with me) they don't enjoy the movie. If I sit farther back (with them) I don't enjoy the movie. If we compromise and sit in the movie neither of us is satisfied.

Ergo! Compromise sucks. I noticed a lot of date people tonight and maybe they so in love that making the other happy is all the satisfaction they need. AAAAHHH! GAAAAGGGG!

I am composing my ad for Craig's List. "Wanted. Someone who will always do it my way."

Something tells me I'll be going to a lot of movies alone. I don't like butter (oil) on my popcorn. The other one does. ....this could go on and on.

Rob

I was watching an interview of Fred Thompson by Sean Hannity in some radio studio in South Carolina. My eye immediately zeroed in on the earphones Hannity was wearing. When the camera panned to Fred Thompson, I was struck by the pristine perfection of the borrowed earphones he had on. I presume that talk stations of today have many sets of house phones. At any station I worked, each DJ had their own. One's earphones were like one's toothbrush. For me, a good pair of phones were like a sweater you love and don't want to toss. It didn't take long for them to start looking like Jeb Clampet's car. Toward the end I used an old style of Koss that wasn't made anymore. Gary DeMaroney found a source and bought 2 or 3 pair. They languished in a box labeled "104" for 10 years or so.

Until 1968, I used the industry standard...Clevite's. Am I spelling it correctly? The technology of Clevites was the same as the early telephone. A magnet causing a disc of metal to vibrate...voila! The sound. There was virtually no bass-respone and the damage to my ear drums must have been devastating. What? At WDUZ I used a single ear Clevite. That was bizarre now that I think about it. It all boils down to comfort...like that seater I mentioned. WDGY was the first station I worked at that used a standard over-the-ear, buy-it-at-Radio Shack, earphone. For the first time in my career I actually heard how things actually sounded and it was magical. The sheer volume I ran those phones was ridiculous and after every four hour show, my ear would have a high-pitched squeal for 2-3 hours. What? Huh?

When I began the progression from Walkman to Discman to MP3 to IPod I used the little button things they come with, but at some point I chucked those for on-the-ear models and used those until, rummaging in a box labeled 104, I dug out my Koss. Old and held together with yards of electrician's tape, they sound great. It's kind of fun to connect the technology of the 70's with the technology of the new millenium. Now I have to figure out how to get a Beta machine to work in the car.

Opera tomorrow afternoon....I am soooooo keyed!

Rob

On the morning show in the Central Valley we used to play the game..."Who would you do?" Last night someone tried to start a 'who would you do' game around our coffee cups (I was actually drinking hot chocolate) and it was a total failure. No one wanted to even contemplate doing Hillary. Even the supposedly good-looking candidates didn't get any action. "Hey Mitt...is that a wrinkle in your holy underwear or are you happy to see me?"

To save the day, I asked if anyone would lick the door slop from the local WalMart for $1,000. No takers. We talk about anything except one topic. It is forbidden to discuss meds and/or the reasons we take them and the ensuing side-effects. That topic is reserved for the seniors in the food court at the mall.

After we had stumbled on sex with Mike Hucksterbee and Walmart slop soup, it seemed like this would not be a sparkling example of conversational repartee. Someone searched deep in this conversational void and came up with an old chestnut.

If you could be yourself (mentally, personality, memories) but look like any person in the world...and exact copy....who would it be. For some reason someone, without thinking a moment, said Johnny Depp. I had lunch with Johnny Depp back in the 80's and he is smaller than Dennis Kocinich. He is an elf. Unfortunately, I phrased my comment as, "He's a midget." A surprisingly good actor, rich as hell, admired by many, a true success, but still...a midget. Someone at the table commented that they prefer to be called 'little people'. From that point no matter who was named as a potential physical replacement, there were negative comments. Someone said Brad Pitt. It was pointed out he has a hygiene problem and stinks. Someone commented that they prefer to call it odorifically challenged and someone else said was it a coincidence that his last name was Pitt? Problems with other choices? Well, it soon became obvious that youth was more important than looks and that says a lot doesn't it.

I look forward to my hot chocolate later today and hope the Caribou conversation is more edifying. Hmm....what would happen at the mall food court if for four seconds everyone was nude and then back to normal. Would there be mass pandemonium? Would people be so shocked there would be mass amnesia? Would there be time to check out the hot ones? How many people would scream or would they just have a mass ...WTF? I can't wait to discuss this.

Rob

There are many reasons to vote for or against any candidate. Serious reasons. There are also trivial reasons to vote against some of them. (All of them) If I am going to be forced to watch one of them for four (eight) years, there is an esthetic dynamic.

Example from the past: As much as I liked Ronald Reagan and rever his memory, I HATED the way he would slightly pause in a sentence, wiggle his head, tilt it to one side, and then proceed. Some might find this engaging but to me it just was a persistant problem. Lyndon Johnson always looked like he needed to spit. (Am I showing my age?) Also, Lyndon Johnson had ear lobes that went beyond earlobes. We're talking your Zulu lobes here. I am not even sure if Zulus have big earlobes, but you get the picture. Bush the first was just fine for me but his son DOES have an unfortunate "What? Me worry?" likeness. Clinton is a mouth breather. His mouth is ALWAYS open.

Obama's ears are too big. If he is elected president any good comedian will be able to hold a couple of saucers next to their head and talk like Martin Luther King and everyone will know it's Barry. Dennis Kocinich doesn't look clean and also looks like he has dandruff. I don't know if either is true, but we're not talking fact here. Now Hillary. She should try to look more like Queen Elizabeth. If she looked like the Queen, I would vote for her. The Queen is not a beautiful woman but because she knows it and doesn't care she actually becomes beautiful. That whole attitude of: I look just fine because after all....I AM THE QUEEN! Hillary should dump the attempt to look good and start waving at people by holding up her hand and rotating it slowly. Eva Braun wasn't a bad looking woman but it didn't matter because who was ever going to tell Adolph, "Hey..your girlfriend is a dog..."

On the Republican side....what the hell is wrong with Rudy Guilliani. How about that forhead? He looks sneaky and the smile would freeze a lake. And all this talk about girlfriends makes me wonder about secret things and I don't like to think about Rudy's privates. Thompson's lips are too thick. Mitt Romney looks like someone who wouldn't like me. I just want to yell at him...Show me your holy underwear! And that name Mitt! He should change it to Matt. If anyone asks why he would say...I was asked to by Queen Elizabeth and what could I do? She's the Queen! Speaking of names. Huckabee!!!! No one named Huckabee will ever be President. Not until we have a black president, woman president, Muslim president, gay president, (this could also be considered a Queen president. Besides the Queen can't run unless they change the constitution and Arnold would be first in line and by then QEII would be toast. Wait a minute. Queen Latifa could run!)could anyone named Huckabee be president. He should change his name too. He should change it to...Matt. Matt Huckabee. Nope! Still won't win. Plus Matt Huckabee thinks I should never eat pizza again for the rest of my life.

John McCain is fatherly, presidential, and has a wonderfully patriotic past. He doesn't like the Bushes and that sort of bothers me because I do. Mainly though, he has a bump on one jaw that makes his cheeks asymetrical. Could I look at that bump for 8 years? Wait a minute. Will he last 8 years? Will I last 8 years?

So what am I to do?

Rob

When I first moved to San Francisco, I lived at 33 Hemway Terrace. Like so many buildings in SF, the bottom floor was garage, the second floor, an apartment and another on the third floor with both entrances from that same second-floor landing. The people on the top floor were from Viet Nam and unused to the San Francisco damp and cold. That explained why they kept the temperature in the 80s in their place. The problem was that their heat hot-air duct work passed through my walls and because of it I didn't ever have to turn on my heat and often slept with open windows in the dead of what passes for winter in that part of northern California.

This came to mind because we are experiencing a weekend heat wave and the old ladies in this building keep their heat high and in the enveloping cacooon of their apartments, I swelter. For the second night in a row I'll sleep with the window ajar...in the middle of January! I hope the weather turns cold so I can sleep cozy again

The movie I ended up seeing on Friday was "One Missed Call" and Warner Brothers owes me $10. It may not be the worse movie I have seen but it was horrible. The only thing I missed was having someone along to discuss it over a Moons Over Mihami at Denny's. Aside from the basic terribleness there were so many plot problems you just have to resort to that old standby: "What were they thinking?"

Now the new week begins. I am taking a couple of mini-vacations in the next month and will try to send a postcard.

Rob

The movie starts in 52 minutes and since I'm only 10 minutes from the theater, I have time to spew. I noticed a slow leak in one of my rear tires, so if I go to the car and a tire is flat, the movie is cancelled, I'll let the snow bury the car and worry about the tire in the spring.

Am I the only political junky who stayed up watching the Iowa crap until Fox began repeating itself? A simple conclusion is obvious...half the people I know could qualify as talking heads. Let's call them um-heads. For some reason I don't remember the great TV talking heads of the past saying, "um". That Mort Kondracke (sic) is the worse. He ums and ahs and hems and haws to the point he is almost impossible to watch.

Not that I would ever have a career in talkingheadism. When Hitlery...er, Hillery...came out to spin her alibi, I wondered (to a friend on the phone) whether it would be big news if Hillary just climbed on the lectern, pulled down her pant-suit and showed the camera her...well, privates. And then Hillary said..."Madeline Albright! Climb up here and show yours too." It is because of fantasies like that that I will never be on Fox.

Quite honestly, I am not very pleased with candidates on either side. The one I liked, George Allen, got Mukaka'd a couple of years ago and he became toast. BTW...what is wrong with Chris Dodd and Biden and Richardson and all those also rans...never rans? They must have the ego-hide of a rhino because I would cry myself to sleep every night.

I'm off to the movie. Popcorn is in my future.

Rob

PS: In my fantasy, Madeline didn't show it. She's too much of a lady and she is still smarting about the snide remarks Kim Jong IL made when she showed it to him. Bill thought about doing it but he hates the public to know that Hillary has bigger balls.

So far this has been a great year! TV shows I like to watch, movies I want to see, places I want to go. What could be better? Did you watch the return of the various late-nite talk shows? I never watch Letterman because I find him smarmy and irritating but I did last night. Admitting my starting bias, I thought Jay Leno was totally funny and Dave Letterman should FIRE his writers.

Some people cannot go to a movie by themselves. I suppose there is some sort of loser-feeling. "I am such a loser, I can't even find anyone to go to a movie with me." Most of the time, I would rather movie alone than with someone. Especially if I suggested the movie but I am not paying. Instead of the sheer enjoyment of watching images on the silver screen, in the dark, with popcorn at hand, I obsess on the worry that my movie-mate will not enjoy the movie. And that lack of enjoyment is my fault. Yesterday I planned to go to a movie. I actually awoke KEYED for a movie. About an hour before showtime, an acquaintance called and mentioned they were going to a movie and I should come with them. "...er.....I....well....I would just LOVE to....but...er...." The excuses continued and I changed my plans. The movie was out. For me it was like....to come up with an analogy you can understand... (I just wrote an extremely sexual one involving Carmen Diaz but deleted it in favor of...) You are planning to eat at the old Cafe DiNapoli but when you get there they serve you Franco American from a can. That's lame but I am trying not to be naughty.

So instead of the movie I spent the day moving furniture around in my bedroom. Just in case Carmen Diaz drops by.

Saw Hansel and Gretel on New Year's day. Never quite sure where I got this love for opera...got it when I was 11. Must be a virus. I enjoy but I am not obsessed with the details, so I was a little miffed when it was by Engelburt Humperdink and no one sang 'Please release me..let me go....." Like musical versions of Peter Pan, there is a lot of gender confusion in the opera. The witch is played by a male tenor and the 10 year old Hansel and Gretel are both played by woman...sopranos. It doesn't bother me except I couldn't stop worrying about Hansel's future growing up with those girlish hips.

It was a great beginning for the year and I hope your beginning was great as well. Now....to correct the typos on my website.....

Rob