The Age Thing

Punching the "next blog" button, I ran across a touching and well written page,
http://middleageddivorce.blogspot.com/ The woman got divorced at 49. So I am wondering, if 49 or 50 is middle age, does old age set in when you hit one hundred? I remember when middle age was 35. One of the great radio soap operas, "The Romance of Helen Trent" opened with Helen's valiant attempt to prove that "because a woman is 35, or older, romance in life need not be over. That the romance of youth can be extended into middle life and even beyond.” Even after 27 years on the air and over 7000 episodes, poor old Helen failed to get Gil Whitney to marry her. The cad.

The Old Pianna Roll

I love player piano music. It's the most fun you can have without doing sonmething immoral, illegal or fattening. Makes you want to dance. Here is an amazing repository of hundreds of old player rolls you can listen to on the 'net. They load fast and sound great. http://members.shaw.ca/smythe/archive.htm

Good Christmas Movie

There is at least one very good Christmas Movie. It's Jean Shepherd's "A Christmas Story." Shepherd was an American original. The first radio novelist. His tribute to another original, Arthur Godfrey was aired on NPR. It's the March 17th show on the list of Shep's NPR shows. Check that site for some of his great monologues. I was privileged to chat with Shepherd on ham radio from his place on Sanibel Island, where he spent his last years.

EATING CATS

Mike Royko again: "Whether one eats a cat or not is a personal choice, and I don't want to sway anyone one way or another. But if you do, there is one obvious cooking tip: Always remember to remove the bell from the cat's collar before cooking. "

Hereditary Cynicism?

Gleaned from Christmas Day Conversation: Cliffie Junior has inherited the old man's healthy cynicism about bad movies, bad game shows, bad commercials, bad stuff in general. I'm proud of him. We both miss Mike Royko. That says a lot about us. Here is a great Royko quote: "It's been my policy to view the Internet not as an 'information highway,' but as an electronic asylum filled with babbling loonies." Our respective wives do not have easy lives. Just ask them.

NO DEAL, HOWIE

A special Christmas Night "Deal or No Deal??!!" That's obscene. If the TV has to be on at all, I'll watch a bad Christmas movie. I am getting Scroogier.

TV FOR XMAS

How many bad Christmas movies can there be? Television's voracious appetite for programming has spawned hundreds of them. How many ways can you tell a touching story of love and reconcilliation without getting sappy or too religious. So call me Scrooge.

Jennifer Love's Body Again

I detest shopping. Only good thing about it is reading the tabloid covers at the checkout. Great questions like, " Will Jennifer Love Hewitt pose for Playboy?" I don't suppose she can sue anybody for printing that. The magazine's lawyer would say, "We did not imply that she was thinking about it. I was just looking at her latest photo, not the bad butt shot, and wondering if she might do that. A perfectly logical and legal question." I wonder how much lawyers get paid for that sort of thing. I will ask Denny Crane and Alan Shore.

Can You Trust Snopes???

I don't believe anything I read on the internet. That includes the stuff I grind out, much of which is baloney and bullpuckey. Let the reader beware. When I get one of those virus warnings that I should send to everybody I know or their comptuers will blow up in their faces, I immediately go to Snopes. Snopes does a great job of exposing those crazy myths, hoaxes and phony stories that have been around so long that they have become legends. Many are years, even decades old. They are changed just enough to make them look contemporary. The e-mail that makes me most suspicious comes from genuinely concerned forwarders that include a quote from Snopes to prove that the warning is the real thing. That can be a classic case of a half truth that's worse than a lie. It circulates the very hoaxes that Snopes is trying to expose. You gotta go into Snoopes and read the whole, often lengthy story, not just the part that's copied in the forward. There's one going around now that warns about a virus that will wipe out your hard drive, reported on CNN. There's a scary Snopes quote right at the top. Read the whole Snopes article and down at the bottom it tells you no such virus exists and there was no report on CNN. So if you and/or your computer croak because I failed to let you know about some terrible evil that was waiting to do you in, sue me.

JENNIFERS' BUTTS

You grammarians calm down. The title is correct and the apostrophe is in the right place. I speak of two Jennifers and their respective rear ends. Jennifer Love Hewitt is having a major tizzy fit because of a most unflattering photo of her butt that is all over TV and the tabloids. To put it politely, let's just say that if Victoria's secret is looking for a star to model their bikini bottoms, they would not choose Ms. JLH. As well as having an imperfect posterior region, she has this really weird TV show on which she counsels troublesome ghosts that are stuck between here and the other side. When she gets through with them, they cross over.
Not long ago, Jennifer Lopez's rear was the object of much speculation about whether it was too big. She said she liked her "little round bubble-butt. "
So if you are about to give birth to a female child, do not name her Jennifer. Or if you already have a little Jennifer and she wants to grow up and be a star, you need to sit her down and have a serious talk about the birds, bees, butts and show business. Let her know that her now cute little tushie might someday become splashed all over the media. Think about that.

Moms love Phil

Dr. Phil had another show that left the women applauding and the men clutching their family jewels. Phil's philosopy: If your wife wants a kid it's your job to give her one, whatever it takes. Up to and including reversing your vasectomy. Phil did it for Robn and six weeks later, Jordan was in the oven. What a guy, what a guy. When old Phil boasted, "My boys did the job," how many women all over the country started fantasizing about doing the nasty with him??

Must the show go on?

I found a You Tube of Peggy Lee singing "Mr. Wonderful." I couldn't watch all of it. She was sick, overweight, sitting, probably because she was unable to stand. Not singing well at all. The same thing happpend to Rosemary Clooney, Judy Garland and many great stars. It made me think of one of my favorite Rosie recordings, "Mixed Emotions." I have lots of ambivalence about legendary performers who keep going right up to the end. It's a mix of admiration for what they were and what they gave to the world, their dedication to their fans, sadness for what time has done to them and a wish that they had chosen quiet retirement. I don't think I would want to be in the adoring audience for one of those concerts, wondering if the fading star is going to sing his or her final note and expire right before my eyes. I surely would not want to be the performer. Let 'em remember me as when as when I was at the top of my game. Those concerts usually get maudlin reviews with a polite reference to the star not being at his or her best anymore, but we love them anyway. Makes me sad.

PEGGY AND ME

I have a plan. My personal plastic surgeon has agreed to build me two big, handsome ears just like Clark Gable and Jimmy Roberts. My personal psychic and medium, Madame Mystica, says she can put me touch with Peggy Lee, who has been singing with the angels on "the other side" for quite a few years now. Madame asssure me that all things are possible if you only believe, and I believe that Peggy will fall in love with my ears and spend the rest of her heavenly life and my earthly life purring her arrangement of "Mr. Wonderful" into my big, handsome amorous ears. First one, then the other. Or maybe both at the same time. Do they have stereo in heaven?

I considered putting Miss Lee's recording of that song here for all to hear. But it is too powerful. It might cause massive yearning and burning among men and dangerous jealousy in their women. And I don't want other guys hooking up and tuning in. She sings that song to only one man at a time and he knows it. Namely, me. That is not one of her hit recordings. It is seldom mentioned. I know she did it just for me.

Ear Envy

I don't know anything about penis envy. I have Ear Envy. I want big, handsome ears like Clark Gable and Lawrence Welk's singer, the late Jimmy Roberts.
Seems like those big ones would hold a lot of sweet nothings whispered into them. Did Norma Zimmer do that?

Hearing Aid Insurance

If insurance coverage made hearing aids available to everyone who needs them, the insurance companies would take a huge hit. Their benevolent sounding commercials notwithstanding, they are not going to let that happen. If you want to get steamed up about this, just Google "hearing aid insurance" or any similar phrase.

Hearing Aid Cost

The local paper has a touching story about an eight year old boy who needs a $1700 hearing aid, not covered by insurance. He insisted on giving some money he had saved for it to a paralyzed friend. So what's wrong with this story? I just got a new garage door and opener for less than half the price of that hearing aid. If we had to pay that much for a pair of glasses, prescribed by someone who has at least as much training and overhead as an audiologist, our screams would be heard 'round the world. Hearing aid prices will come down and insurance will cover them when more children and aging boomers need them and they become as common as what is now "eyewear."

Lawrence Welk Lives

As of this moment there are 66 posts answering the fellow who started it all by asking why those old Lawrence Welk shows are on PBS TV every week instead of much better bands from that era. Why have the champagne Music Makers been on TV for 50 years? You can learn a lot from watching the interviews with surviving old Welk stars. When one of them was asked what she learned from boss Daddy Welk, she said he reminded her that she was in show business and the music business. Not art. Business. Son Larry Welk and everyone who keeps those old shows going knows that. Lawrence found a niche and he milked it. It still works today. PBS makes a lot of noise about being a high class alternative to commercial broacasting, but they have to care about ratings and income. The old Welk Shows are top rated , big money makers for PBS at fundraising time. .

Weird Online Groups

I have been on probably 8 or 10 groups. Everything from exotic diseases to Hammond Organs and Wurlitzer Pianos and goofy religions and all sorts of hobby and professional interests. People who spend too much time on the internet are weird. I spend too much time on the internet. Every group I've been on has degernated into feudin', fightin' and fussin' that would get you punched in the nose if you said those things in person. A guy on my group that's supposed to be about antique radios is all pissed at the administrator who deletes his rants about the price of gasoline.
I am now embroiled in deep do-do about Lawrence Welk. I love those corny old shows. Can't get enough of it. Other guys in the group say it's the ultimate pollution of the TV airwaves. Those guys need to get a life. I need to get a life.

pointless, obscure post

I joined some fellow geezers for lunch yesterday at the local Perkins Restaurant. I always want to call the restaurant and ask if Ma Perkins is there, but they wouldn't get it. Nobody under 80 would, and almost nobody that old has a computer, so why am I writing this. I guess I need to move into the Shady Pines rest home. The folks there would remember Ma and Evie and Shuffle even if their short term memory was all shot. They would tell me to call Ma at the Lumber Yard.

Turkey Testicle Time

I will be heading for Byron, Illinois this weekend for the annual Turkey Testicle Festival. I don't think I will get in on the turkey testicle eating contest but I have been training for the "Run for the nuts." That Byron is some wild town!

Married to the Internet

24 percent of Americans say the internet is a suitable substitute for a real, live mate. The only thing you can't do online is procreate. That's next.

It's all over in 2012!!

So the world is going to end. Again. This time it's 2012. Let it end. I did not buy a generator, stockpile food and fill my gastank to be ready for the year 2000 and I plan no special preparations for 2012. Whatever happens, happens. Big hairy deal.

Twelve Step Question

I wonder if the many groups that borrowed AA's twelve step program accept the controversial part that says the addiction/disease/whatever it is can never be cured, but only arrested and you can never drink, smoke, gamble, do drugs, etc. even moderately, socially or recreationally or you'll be shot down if you fall off the wagon even once.

Sexual Addiction Disease?

It's been revealed that President Ford said Bill Clinton is a sex addict who needs to be treated for it. Is it a disease, like the current wisdom(?) says of addiction to alcohol, drugs, gambling, overeating, undereating, porno, internet, cluttering and anything else we do to dangerous excess? (I seriously need to join clutterers Anonymous) The Sex Addicts Anonymous group, patterned after AA's 12 step program, says it is. I was surprised that Dr. Phil appears not to believe it and he's ready to fight with any therapist who uses that diagnosis as an excuse for not keeping your pants on.

One Wife, One Life

Having been marrierd to the same person for a very, very, very long time, there is a big part of me that needs to believe in that terribly old fashioned "Til death do us part" kind of matrimony. Yet I keep running into couples who seem to have finally got it right after the second, third, fourth or fifth time. Go figure.

Salem Weather Report

Massive flooding today in Salem, someplace in soapland. John Black croaked and today's funeral has caused rivers of tears across the country.

Radio Humorists

This refers only to the radio work of the following. Their written stuff is a whole different thing.
Jean Shepherd gives me sore sides from laughing so hard. Garrison Keillor makes me smile, chortle, guffaw and laugh out loud once in a while. David Sedaris leaves me colder than a Mackerel that's been out of the water too long. His voice and delivery are so off-putting that I lose whatever appeal his stories might have. Don't like "This American Life" for the same reason. Ira Glass puts me off. I think it's a generation thing. I'm too damn old to understand or appreciate contemporary delivery.

Who's the greatest humorist?

The Damfinos, members of the International Buster Keaton Society, have left town. The next big thing at the restored downtown theater here in Riverdale, Mishconson is David Sedaris. I am so far out of touch with today's pop culture that I had never heard of him. He is hyped as America's greatest humorist. Like Garrison Keillor (I do know about him) he came to fame on Public Radio. Also like Lake Wobegon's gift to radio, Sedaris is compared to Mark Twain. So is Jean Shepherd. Jean who, you say? Marshall McLuhan, who wrote a pretty famous book about media, "The Medium is the Message," called him the first radio novelist. You heard Shepherd's voice if you ever saw "A Christmas Story" about young Ralphie, his air rifle and his dad's sexy leg lamp.
I wonder what Sam Clemens would have to say about all this comparing?

THE NIGHT MY ORGAN DEFLATED

There I was in the spotlight, riding the massive red and gold theater pipe organ console up out of the orchestra pit. A thousand people behind me waiting to watch a silent film starring the great Buster Keaton, the action accompanied by the grand organ.
Does anybody remember the old, turn of the century song, The Lost Chord? The words go, "My fingers wandered idly over the noisy keys."
Right in the middle of a mighty organ sforzando, the blower that supplies the air to the pipes died. My fingers wandered frantically over the silent keys. Nary a sound came forth.
A newspaper review of the show said, "Mr. Martin's organ lost its air."

BUSTER KEATON INTERNATIONAL SOCIETY CONVENTION

THE

DAMFINOS ARE COMING!

It's time for the Damfinos, the International Buster Keaton Society, to convene in Muskegon, Michigan, where Buster and his family had a summer lakefront home in the 20"s. In the photo, you see Eleanor Keaton, Buster's widow. She was much younger than Buster but they had 28 good years together. She passed away in 1998. Behind her, that's me, the organist for the silent films shown that night. Next to me, Al Flogge,

show business afficiando and friend of the stars. In front of him is his long time friend, Adrian Booth, Buster's co-star in one of the films shown that night. As of this date, she is still with us and Al Flogge attended her recent birthday celebration.

I'm at the console of the Frauenthal Theater's 1930 Barton Pipe Organ. The bright red and gold console was typical of the Barton organs. The company's founder loved the garishly painted circus wagons of that era and his consoles, designed to look as theatrical as they sound, are referred to as "circus wagon" style.

This year's organist is a real pro from Chicago, Dennis Scott. ..

Big Confession

Here it is... the awful secret that might get me kicked out of the blogosphere and drummed out of the male gender, especially at this time of national obsession with the "S" word. No, not that "S" word. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned against all that is manly. I do not like sports! Any sports. All sports are utterly incomprehensible at best, irritating at worst. I try to watch baseball, football, hockey, etc. etc. I do not understand what those people are doing or why they are doing it. I cannot figure out why the players on the field, court or whatever you call the place where they do it are doing it. I am totally mystified at the hundreds of thousands of screaming fans in the stands or whatever you call the place where they sit except when they are standing and shouting. I would surely have a nervous breakdown if forced to attend a big time sporting event. Is it God's fault? Did He leave some of my parts out of me when He made me?
Maybe He did, because I can't understand the appeal of game shows, their spastic contestants, their studio audiences or their millions of TV fans, either. What do you think, Father ... is there a chance that reincarnation might be true, so I can be complete next time around? One more question, Father. I heard that "Hail Mary" has something to do with football. Don't try to explain that to me. I wouldn't get it. Couldn't handle it if I did. What's that? You want to get this confession over with because there's a game you don't want to miss?

Boston Legal: The Old and the Horny

The wonderfully quirky Boston Legal might be the only top rated TV sitcom that is not about the young and the horny. I love it when 75 year old Denny Crane gets all overheated about the thought of seventy-something Shirley Schmidt in her high school cheerleader costume. I hope the writers don't run out of goofy ideas in my lifetime. It hasn't happend yet.

Good Words Gone Bad

The latest fine old word that has bit the dust, leaving a cloud of incorrectness, is "Senior." It seems that the youth-obsessed boomers, just getting into their sixties, will not answer to that one anymore. A local former grocery store is being turned into a magnificent center for those of a certain age but it cannot call itself a senior center because it would be boycotted by those young-thinking boomer types. So we call it Tanglewood Park. Cool, eh? It's between Tanglewood and Park Streets. The "Senior Perspectives" magazine published by the area council on aging is agonizing over what new name might be appropriate if we want anybody under 85 to read it. While we are at it we had better get rid of "aging" in the council's name. What can we become the council on?
I am so far into seniorhood that I don't even remember the first time some young clerk asked if I got the senior discount. I suppose it was traumatic. Did I really look that old? These days, I don't care what you call me. Just give me some benefits. Reward me with discounts just for staying alive for a long time.

Funeral Music as Torture

Music as torture is not a new idea. It is probably as old as music and torture. You could break the spirit of a rebellious teen ager by making him watch those old Lawrence Welk shows. Or you could send your cantankerous old grandpa to the funny farm by blowing out his hearing aids with the loudest, hardest rock you can find. Music as torture is in the news lately because it has been used to break the prisoners at Gitmo. It seems to me that playing the deceased's favorite music at a funeral or memorial service might be the highest (or lowest) form of musical torture. It is a great way to give a final post mortem thumbing of the nose or raising of the middle finger to all those in attendance that you couldn't stand. Make them listen to polkas. Or opera. Or Gregorian Chants. Or Buddhist Chants. Whatever. If you want to stick it to those you know who believe the bagpipe is an ill wind that nobody blows good, be sure to have a piper play you-know-what. It will make them crazy.

Comparing Vietnam and Iraq

I don't know who Gerald W. Johnson was or is, but he said a smart thing, quoted on today's NPR On The Media show.

Nothing changes more constantly than the past; for the past that influences our lives does not consist of what actually happened, but of what men believe happened

High Drama Addiction

I figured out what makes those nutty people go on shows like Dr. Phil. They are addicted to high drama. They thrive on fighting and craziness. They need it. They don't want to fix it, they are not interested in stopping it, they just want to enjoy it in their own weird way.They would go nuts if they had to spend five minutes with peace and quiet.

The case of the SEXY SITTER

You are a young husband and father. Your 18 year old baby sitter comes on to you. She unzips your pants. Nature takes it course. You and the sitter do a very bad thing. You go on Dr. Phil's show. You get skewered, roasted and toasted. You did not have the good sense, fortutude or basic moral values to tell the temptress to leave you alone because you are married. The mostly female audience loves it. They are ready to storm the stage and Bobbitize you so you can't do it again. The few males, dragged to the show by their wives, are squirming. Some are thinking, "There, but for the grace of God ..." Others were not so fortunate. But what of the sexy sitter? Not one word about morals or lack thereof. What's her story? Is she an innocent victim? Has she done it before? will she do it again? Ah, but there is a much bigger question. It is being asked in the network executive offices. "What can we do to top this on tomorrow's show that will keep the ratings going through the roof?"

Me and Sam McGee

We are experiencing what is politely called a "cold snap." I call it freezing to death. When I expire, which could be any day now if it don't warm up, my earthly remains will become what the mortuary industry calls "cremains." Like Robert W. Service's Sam McGee, I will order the attendants to leave the oven door closed so I can stay warm.

Dr. Phil has lost it

Dr. Phil and Robin have totally sold out to the ratings race. The new season opened with new heights of hype. I like Dr. Laura better. She gets right to the point, tells 'em what they need to hear and if they don't like it, that's their problem. There's none of Phil's "I'll give you my hard hitting, straight from the shoulder word on what you need to do right after these commercials. " I'm asleep before he comes back. Reminds me of the old story about the super salesman bride groom who spent his wedding night sitting on the edge of the bed, telling his bride how great it was going to be when they made love.

Oprah and Obama

Does Oprah have enough power to get Obama elected, or least nominated? Probably. Is that a good thing? I like what Bob Dylan said about show biz figures messing with issues like that. "For some reason, people seem to think performers have the answer to the problems of society. What can you say to somethng like that? It's absurd, really." What's really crazy is when the performers believe it.

Year's Worst Commercial?

A question for you boomers who have lost your teeth and who are driven to distraction by loose uppers or lowers rattling around in your head. Did you rush right out to grab a package of Sea Bond Denture Adhesive, inspired by those bright, happy, young, fun loving seniors singing "Bye bye ooze, bye bye yuckiness" to the tune of an old Everly Brothers song? If you did, then mabye it's not such a bad commercial after all. It did what commercials are supposed to do . I can't really be sore at the ad agency that produced the commercial. It will probably win an award. Henceforth and forever more, every person who reaches for a package of Seabond will see and hear that image in their heads. But I can be big time pissed at the Brothers or whoever now owns the rights to their songs. Can they be so hard-up that they actually took big bucks from the agency for the right to turn the song into that travesty? Is nothing sacred??

Crazy Old Men

I don't believe in long blog posts. Who would take the time to read them? Having said that, here is a long blog post. It is my column for a senior magazine. It won't appear until sometime in October, so I must wait to see if it gets any interesting responses.


Crazy Old Men
I apologize to mental health workers and patients who might be offended by my title. I chose it because I am willing to do whatever it takes to make a reader stop to see what it’s all about.
For almost three years, I held a most interesting volunteer position at the geriatric unit of Hackley Behavioral Health. In today’s era of language correctness, we no longer speak of psychiatric wards, but that’s what it is. It is a locked, in-patient psychiatric facility with a separate unit for older patients. Old timers still think of it as Northwood. I did what they called music therapy. It was really no more than playing old songs on the piano and reminiscing with the patients, many of whom were younger than I was. I was good at it and there were some rewarding breakthroughs.
The most surprising thing I encountered there was the large number of male patients. I expected that the population of any geriatric facility would be mostly female, as in nursing homes, just because women live longer. I am still puzzled about what it is that is putting so many older men in psychiatric treatment facilities. Is it Alzheimer’s or other dementia? Addiction to drugs or alcohol? Family pressure from adult offspring whose lives are a mess? Loss of self worth because of retirement, especially if forced by downsizing, company restructuring or sale? Can’t get a new job because of age? Indulgent, mothering wives who left widowers unable to care for themselves? Involuntary commitment by family members? That was the case with many of the patients I saw.
Could it be that it is simply more acceptable for men to seek professional help for emotional problems than it was for previous generations. Perhaps we are past the notion that men are supposed to be the great, stoic dragon slayers, Clint and Arnold, shooting and terminating, keeping it all together while our women fall apart There are days when I am precariously close to checking myself in to the psych ward and asking to be pumped full of something to get me through the stuff that the twenty first century is throwing at us old guys. That is a terrible admission that men of my father’s generation would never even have dared think about, much less put it in black and white for all the world to see.
Here is a thought that won’t win me any points with any macho male types out there. Might it be that members of what we used to call the weaker sex are actually better equipped to handle life’s ego-crushing emotional blows and defeats than we men are?
I ask for comments from mental health professionals, patients, family, spouses, men who are hurting, armchair psychologists and anyone who has something to say about all this. You may be anonymous. We waive the usual rule that letters to the editor must be signed. If you e-mal me personally at janman30@yahoo.com, your e-mail address will not be saved unless you specifically say you are interested in personal correspondence.

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It's Father Coglin

After spending far too much time staring at the screen, I find that I recalled it correctly ... It's Father Coglin or Coglen, not Cofflin. I have too much time on my hands. Now I can move on to other foolish searches. My next post will be the text of my column for a senior magazine published by the area Council on Aging here in Mishconson.

Father Coughlin

Anybody out there with the correct pronunciation of the infamous radio priest's name ? I am producing a talk that mentions him and I want to get it right. I was very young when he was spewing his venom from the Shrine of the Little Flower, but I seem to recall hearing it as "Coglin" rather than "Cofflin."

PBS GEEZER SHOWS

I am ancient. I can't relate to music that came along after 1954, the last year of what are now "old standard" performers and songs before rock became the popular music of choice. So I usually like it when PBS trots out the old stars for their fundraisers, knowing that it will cause older viewers to open their billfolds, let the moths fly out and make a healthy contribution.But they went too far with their latest senior special. Sure, it's good to know that Ed Ames, Kay Starr, Margaret Whiting, Robert Goulet, Andy Williams and the Crew Cuts and the Gaylords are still breathing regularly and able to shuffle up to a microphone. But some of them looked pretty bad and didn't sing all that great.Nick Clooney's tribute to his sister Rosie was nice, and I will assume it was at his merciful request that they showed only clips of her great early performances and not later ones where she was overweight and struggling. When 94 year old Tony Martin sang or lip synched or whatever it was, I'm not sure it was the same song the orchestra was playing. It was painful. Let the old stars rest in peaceful retirement.

The Rand Girls, Ayn and Sally

A friend has changed his e-mail name to "randfan." He hastened to add that he meant Ayn, not Sally. That's too bad. I ain't smart enough to understand Ayn and all that stuff she wrote. But I sure appreciate Sally and her fans and bubbles.

Grissom, You're the man

CSI's Gil Grissom might be my favorite TV character. He's a perfect geek, nerd or whatever the currently correct word is ... knows more about forensics and bugs than anybody, but has no clue about relationships or women. Frustrated co-worker Sarah wants more than a working relationship and old Gil just can't figure out what's bugging her. I don't know if I'm supposed to be mad at him for being so dumb or at her for trying to pull something out of him that he doesn't have to give. Maybe that's what makes a good story. You can let it say whatever you want it to.

Mr. Foley and Me

I had an unpleasant and somewhat painful procedure at the doctor's office. I asked the nurse if anyone ever freaked out and demanded to be put to sleep. She said it's the younger guys who can't handle it. One of them, in for a vasectomy, passed out before they even started the operation, went home and never came back. By the time you achieve senior status, you have had so many surgeries and so many tubes and cameras poked into every known orfice that one more doesn't matter all that much.

Bubble Boy

Number 7 Grandson Alexander

Naked truth about blogosphere

It took ten clicks on the "Next blog" button to find one in English. Number ten was photos of naked Latinas. But I could read about them in English.

Hot Butts, Tight Jeans

Am I a dirty old man? Don't answer that. Am I seeing sex where it isn't? Are the current Old Navy commercials pornographic? Do most womens' butts look that good in tight jeans?

Diane Rehm/Ira Glass/Terry Gross

There's a blogger who can't stand NPR's Diane Rehm because she is old and talks slow. I can't listen to Ira Glass because he's young and talks too fast. So maybe Public Radio does have something for everyone. And there's Terry Gross. She talks OK ... holds some kind of record for the most bigshot guests who have walked out on her.

New Heights of Lawyer Creativity

There is a lawyer even more "creative" than the one who puts drunk drivers back on the road. This one took the case of the woman whose husband was burned by Starbuck's tea. She is suing because he burned his lips so bad that she can't kiss him.

How Impersonal Can it Get?

Here is one of the few reasons I wish I were a lot younger: I would have no memory of the pre-digital, personal service era when we dealt with real people, not buttons on a touch-tone phone. How far can this depersonalization go? I think we are there. After endless punching of buttons to get to the desired department and finally holding on for the operator, a recorded voice told me that if I wanted to talk to the operator I should leave my name and number and he or she (more likely an "it") would call me back. We must now make an appointement to talk to an operator.
But wait! There's more. Do not try to pay your utility bill in person. Drop it in the box that's there for your great convenience or mail or pay online. It will cost you two bucks to hand it to a real live person. Mighty Comcast has joined this evil plot to do away with real people. It will cost me two bucks to pay my bill in person there, too. Yea, verily. We have reached the epitome of impersonalization.

President of Starkist

Is the big boss at Starkist the TUNA KAHUNA?

Fruit of the Loom song

I am so so old that when those ladies come on in their bras and panties I just close my eyes and freak out over that song. Sounds like the same people who did the Country Time Lemonade song a few years ago. Those diminished chords have a strange and wonderful effect. Country Time offered recordings of the song and I sent for one. I still play it

Most Creative Lawyer?

If I get so frustrated and confused by road construction and repair that I have an accident and/or drive into a big hole and/or have a nervous breakdown, can I sue the city or the state or whoever is in charge of the motoring mayhem? I'll bet I could find a lawyer who would take the case. I have one in mind. I just saw his TV commercial. He is soliciting business from people charged with drunk driving. He has taken the phrase, "Friends don't let friends drive drunk" and twisted it to, "Friends don't let friends plead guilty." He will get your license restored and put you back on the road so you can do it again.

HOLY HOT DOGS, BATMAN!

I have been eating Hebrew National Kosher Hot Dogs. They are as good as the TV commercials say they are. That's because Hebrew National answers to a higher power.

Amos 'n' Andy and Leo

Leo the MGM Lion first roared at moviegoers in 1924. He's even older than I am! I watch old MGM musicals just to hear him roar and to see those wonderful words "Ars Gratia Artis." Art for its own sake. Thank goodness I grew up back in those old, incorrect, insensitive days when we enjoyed radio, books, movies and all art forms just the fun of it. We didn't analyze it to death or indulge in hand wringing and teeth gnashing about the bad messages that were filling our minds.
Should I apologize to my 8 year old African American Grandson for loving the nightly radio adventures of Amos 'n' Andy when I was not much older than he is? I guess I could say I didn't know any better. The roles were played by two white guys using what in those days was "Negro dialect." Must I feel guilty for loving MGM's all Black film from 1943, "Cabin in the sky?" What a beautiful and touching tale. There was Ethel Waters, the great lady who kissed me on the cheek after I did a radio interview with her. Eddie Anderson, as her "Little Joe" was so closely associated with his long running radio and TV role as Jack Benny's valet that the movie credits call him Eddie "Rochester" Anderson. When Ethel Waters sings one of the great all time torch songs, "Happiness is just a thing called Joe," I lose it. Goosebumps big time. The song was nominated for an academy award. The title song is a superb piece of songwriting, too. The first eleven notes climb upward, just like the mystical stairway to the heavenly cabin that Petunia and Little Joe climb in the film's wonderful dream sequence. Ethel Waters continued to sing "Cabin in the Sky," along with "His Eye is on the Sparrow" in her later years when she joined the Billy Graham Crusades.
The DVD release of the film is preceeded by an apology for the racial stereotypes and it's followed by a long, detailed social commentary, complete with clips illustrating various stereotypical situations and characters. The commentator took a slap at what he perceived as the simple minded religious faith that was portrayed in the film. I didn't find it at all simple minded, but "simple" in the best sense of the word, a charming, well crafted and acted tale of the battle between good and evil, God and the devil. Lena Horne, now in her eighties, played the temptress who seduced Little Joe. She was on the commentary. I would like to have heard what she said, but I got bored to death before her part came on.
When my now 8 year old grandson gets older, must he apologize to his grandkids for loving old Disney and Warner Brothers cartoons?" They're violent, they're full of racial, ethnic and gender stereotypes. You can find something demeaning about some group in every famous cartoon character and story. Dangerous music, too. The NPR interview with a fellow who has written a book about cartoon music ended with Louis Armstrong's recording of "Chinatown My Chinatown" as an example of an unfortunate stereotpye. Will 8 year old Alexander have to wring his hands and gnash his teeth about his youthful cartoon habit when he gets to be an old granddad??

Flagged Blogs

I wonder what it takes to get a blog removed after being flagged. Can't be porno or "bad words." There's plenty of that. I don't think it's politically incorrect views about the government, individuals or groups. And with so many miilions of bloggers online, blog providers can't possibly have enough people to investigate every complaint.How many flaggged blogs wind up being deleted? Wouldn't it be interesting to get into the complaint department. Has a media reporter ever done a story about that? I think I will suggest it.

Old Things

A good friend who collects everything gave me the magnificent, big-as-a-barn 1941 Zenith console Radio that's the centerpiece of the nostalgia corner of my room, along with pictures of a 1930 Packard, Theater Organ consoles and legendary pin-up girl Bettie Page busting out of her nurses uniform. (My son, who is not all bad, gave me the huge wall hanging of Bettie.) If I can clear a space on the wall, my old QSL cards and ham license plates will go up there.
This collector friend asked me the other day, "What's the good word?" I said, "It's not sex. Not money. I know, it's ANTIQUES!" He agreed. He would be happy to add an old Hammond Organ to my den of nostalgia, but I would want a Leslie speaker for it, and they are even bigger than the radio. I guess I could float a loan and add a room for my old toys. While I'm at it, how about a bigger garage to house an old Packard and a mid 80's Chrysler Fifth Avenue. How fortunate that my wife does not read my blog. I am saved from an untimely death by murder.

I love old things. Maybe it's because I am one.

The Gay Life. Changing Times

Anybody out there young enough to remember a famous book (I think it was also a play) "Our Hearts Were Young and Gay"?
I have a note from a friend my age (real old) whose granddaughter's wedding will feature a gay man best friend instead of a bridesmaid. Granny says that if she had done that when she married, her country village forbears would have disowned her. If I had told my country village relatives I had a gay friend, they would have said, "That's nice. It's good for you to be with happy people."

Buster Keaton on Bikini Beach?

Even if you are not sick, you should go to a doctor's waiting room to look at amazing magazines you didn't know about. I was astounded to learn that Buster Keaton, the great silent film maker who some say was better than Chaplin, was reduced in later years to appearing in at least two Annette Funicello-Frankie Avalon beach bikini films in the mid 60's. Apparently he played himself, complete with his trademark porkpie hat. When I can find it, I will post a picture of me with Buster's widow and his co-star in one of his silents from the 20's. Eleanor Keaton has left us, but silent actress Adrian Booth is still around at 88.

Cynics Anonymous

Responding to my Fathers Day post, Etaoin Shrdlu finds it typically cynical. I am president of the local CA chapter. It has naught to do with my advanced age and associated curmudgeonliness. When I quit my first job at the radio station owned by the Methodist Church and told the boss it was clear that the church didn't want or
need a radio station, he said "We have a cynic here." I was in my early 20's. There is another thing young persons need to know when contemplating marriage: Your lover's little human peculiarities might become major irritants as he/she gets older. Oops, there I go again. I must call a CA meeting so we can share gripes and groans about life.

Fathers Day

Few men, maybe none, are quite the father that their wives wish they were. Is that cynical? I hope not. Male and female parenting needs are different. That's one of the thousand and one things you need to know before you cohabit and make babies. If I were a premarital counsellor I would remind the couples of that. But they probably wouldn't listen.

Phil and Robin

Dr. Phil is too hard on men. If he has never had a lusty thought about some babe in 30 years of marriage, Robin must be a helluva woman.

THE WRITING LIFE

Not a very creative or original title for one who claims to care about words. But that's what it's about. Writing and life. The only time I am really happy, the only thing that I lose myself in, is writing. Doesn't matter whether I'm composing in my head or pecking away at the keyboard and watching those wonderful words pop up on the screen. That's probably a pretty neurotic thing. Writing is something you do alone. I suppose a shrink would say I need to check into Nurse Ratched's psych ward and get a real life. How I admire those writers who are great adventurers, living life to the fullest, living it and writing about it with equal balance, skill and passion.
I get some kind of vicarious joy watching people, especially musicians, who get happily lost in what they do.It's also great fun to read about bloggers' passions. I'm a pretty good amateur musician, but I never quite get lost in it like the real musicians do.I get close to that point and then something goes wrong, I leave the keyboard and don't touch it again for a long time. When I'm on the bandstand, doing the announcing at a Big Band Concert, it makes me smile to know that the audience thinks I'm up there going happily nuts to be involved with all that great music. They don't need to know that I'm lost in mentally composing my clever adlib introduction for the next tune on the list. Words are my music. I should have used that for the title.

Greatest Automotive Development

Oh, it is great to be alive in the 21st century. It may be the greatest thing since the self starter or the automatic transmission. I never thought I would live to see it. I want one! I can now buy a car with illuminated cup holders.

Greatest Generation Gap?

The host of NPR's "On the Media" described the use and perception of the internet as "The greatest generation gap in 50 years ... ever since rock 'n'roll."

Fascinating.

DID I SAY THAT??

One of the joys of blogging and writing for small, low circulation or special interest publications is that they let you write your own headlines or titles.Bigger publications have editors who read your stuff and come up with their paraphrase of what they think you said. Even if you write a letter to the editor of the local newspaper and pop off about something that bugs you, their editor will come up with a headline that will amaze you. It might leave you slapping your forehead and thinking, "Is that what I said?" It would be interesting to choose a favorite syndicated columnist, find out what papers he or she appears in, and look up the headlines for a given article in several of them.

Pertinent Poop about Beautiful Insides

I Love advertising. Thanks to Metamucil's new commercials, I appreciate my beautiful insides. Metamucil, best described as artificially flavored sand, used to be icky stuff that old people take to help us "keep regular." That's a nice euphemism for regularly depositing a well formed turd in the family commode every day with no pain, no strain. The new commercials are aimed at young women who want to keep their insides "clean and beautiful." No mention of bathroom duties. Just yesterday I saw this strikingly beautiful woman, who also seemed to radiate that elusive inner beauty. I am thinking, "Does she take Metamucil??"

Dogs, Cats, Birds, People

I like dogs. I like some dogs better than some people. I don't have a dog because my cats won't let me. Cats rule. I like dogs better than people who take them to public parks. I like cats better than people who let them catch my birds. I like twittering birds better than people who sing badly. What's that you say? I should quit complaining about people and go live with the animals? Good idea. Thank you.

OH MY GOD!

So call me a religious nut. I am getting seriously offended by hearing "Oh My God!" on TV a hundred times a day. Last night one of the shows had every cast member saying it, one right after another. I guess that's supposed to let me know that something shocking is happening. Do you think maybe God is getting a bit weary of having people call on Him and then not answering when He as asks what they want? So call me a religious nut. And there's that un-funny improv attempt, "Thank God You're here." What a lousy imitation of the brilliant "Who's Line is it." I will thank God if it gets cancelled.

Where's the clinic?

I am getting clinically depressed from worrying about clinics. My cereal box says the cereal is clinically proven to lower cholesterol. Way down at the bottom it says the clinic is Johnston L et al, whatever that is. How much does General Mills pay Johnston L? Does et al get their cut? If my doctor is in a clinic, is he clinically proven to cure me?

Dion and The Belmonts

Whatever happened to Dion? He's alive because he didn't accept the offer of a seat on the plane that went down with Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and The Big Bopper. You'll be surprised at what he's doing these days.
http://www.wittenburgdoor.com/archives/diondimucci.html

Positive Attitude Bracelets

I am not wearing one of those purple bracelets that would remind me not to criticize, carp, complain or gossip for 21 days. You can get one from a Kansas Minister who came up with the idea. He has already given away four and a half million of them, along with a donation envelope that he hopes you will use.Does that mean I can't gripe and grouse, moan and groan on my blog? That would put us bloggers out of business. It would be no fun at all.

Reunions: A Dangerous Post

I can think of only one thing worse than attending your class reunion: Attending your spouse's reunion. You don't know those people and how could you possibly care what part they played in your partner's life a hundred years ago. It should be obvious that my long suffering partner in matrimony does not read my blog. If she did I would be a dead man.

HIGH SCHOOL REUNIONS

I think I envy those who enjoy reunions. They must have been well adjusted and sociable and enjoyed their school days and friends enough that they want to see them again and reminisce about old times. Not me. I don't want them to see me and I don't want to see them.

Give me heat!

Where is my share of this global warming? It's the beginning of May and I'm shivering in bed with the covers over my head. I'm breathing hard to generate warm air. I get up and take my temperature. Just as I suspected, it's 34. If I lost two more degrees I would have woke up stone cold stiff dead. My wife lies there, happy as a kid with the fan blowing on her. Is marriage a cruel trick that somebody up there plays on us? Does premarital counselling include a chapter on sensitivity to heat and cold? Does Dr. Phil know about this? Can we get on his show?

Georgia On My Mind

Garrison Keillor has still got it. What a great story teller. His show from Columbus, Georgia was a charmer.Made me want to head South. Only G. K could make you love a story about a guy crapping his pants, leading up to curing all your problems with a slice of rhubarb pie.

LITTLE CAR, BIG IDEAS

The village of Fruitport, Michigan has lost a colorful landmark. A pink Crosley, a funny little car, perched high on a pole. I don't know who owns it now, but I hope they drive it around town as a tribute to Powell Crosley Jr. He was called the Henry Ford of radio when he produced low priced radios for the masses. Operated the world's most powerful radio station from Cincinnati that had the first full time weatherman, invented the first fridge with shelves in the door, designed an airplane, owned a baseball team, produced the first color telecast of a sports team. They should make a movie about him. Maybe they haven't because a fictionalized story wouldn't be as interesting as his real life.

Goofy Church Stuff

That's the name of my other blog, which I keep separate from this one. Go to http://goofchurch.blogspot.com/ only if you have interest in my admittedly jaundiced view of nutty things going on in the church these days. "Church" meaning the organized Christian Church in all its many and varied forms. It's not preachy and it's not about theology or doctrine and I will ignore any attempts to draw me into a discussion of those areas.

Just Kidding?

If somebody says "I was just kidding. It's a joke," there's a pretty good chance they weren't and it isn't.

Dr. Phil Again

Dr. Phil has gone way off the deep end in his quest for ratings. When one of his guests has the guts to say that, he gets real indignant. There is nothing he won't do to hype the level of shocking and disgusting behavior that he parades before us daily. So why am I watching it, you ask? I must be as crazy as his guests.

Funny Dutch Names

Was there really a local nurse whose last name was Enema? Could I make up something that good? Maybe. Jim Bakker, the infamous TV evangelist is from this town. I suppose it was originally pronounced "Bokker." A Dutch friend told me Robert Schuller, who went to Hope College in Holland, Michigan, changed the pronunciation from the Dutch "Skuller."
But the best one of all is Ms. Baade. I worked with her for a while. It's pronounced like "body." Oh yeah. She reminded me of Julie London.

SEXY TV

Am I a dirty old man? Oops, don't answer that. A better question: Am I seeing sex where it isn't? Am I way off base in finding fully 75 percent of TV programming sexually provocative, bordering on soft porn and half of the commercials just as sexy?

Gifted Kids

Please, please, please. Read Barbara's story. http://dancingontheceiling.blogspot.com/
Fascinating. Too good to be buried in the blogosphere. There has to be a publisher that would love to have it.

Jackass Blogs

My friend Father Bob writes a high class newsletter. I know it's high class because he quotes C. S. Lewis a lot. And he translates Greek better than most people read English. Bob's "Mouse Nest" Column, composed by his alter ego Charlie Churchmouse, has this to say about the blogosphere: "We tried doing one of those blogs but we didn't last very long because we quickly bored ourselves to death with our own inanity!" Bob still uses the editorial "We." I quit that a long time ago in favor of the egotistical "I"
I was not sure of the precise meaning of "inane" so I looked it up. Here are some of the better synonyms: Silly. Stupid. Empty. Void. Useless. My favorite is "asinine," meaning "related to, or resembling an ass." In very plain English it means acting like a jackass.
Bob is right, most blogs are full of stubborn braying and hee-hawing. Mine is. I have a good excuse. I'm too old to do much else to amuse myself. As for the young bloggers, let them find their own justification for their inane asininity.

Mistakes I did not make

I'm still thinking about gifts (talents) we are given and what we do with them. Heaven knows I have made my share of grievous errors, but there are two mistake I did not make. I came into the world with enough musical talent that I could have been a pretty good professional pianist, had I developed my gift and worked at it. It's fortunate that I did not. I am psychologically, mentally, emotionally unsuited to be in the music business. It IS a business.
I could have been a very good preacher. That's a business, too. It's the people business. I would be a lousy pastor, totally inept at dealing with the people problems that are a part of ministry.
The very great majority of bloggers are much younger than I, too busy making mistakes and hopefully learning from them to have piled up a list of things they didn't do wrong. So I don't know if anybody can make much sense out of this. I'm not even sure I can. Chalk it up to geriatric mutterings.

Musically Gifted... Ruth Slenczynska

This is inspired by a superior blog posted by a gifted singer who calls herself Dancing On the Ceiling. http://dancingontheceiling.blogspot.com/ What a fascinating subject ... gifts we are given and what we do or do not do with them. And when you're older, there is the gnawing "what if..."
I still have vivid memories of sitting in my blue and white '59 Ford Station Wagon in Havre, Montana, listening to CBC Radio from Regina, Saskatchewan. They had one of those radio reader shows, with an announcer reading a chapter from a book each day. The book was "Forbidden Childhood," a memoir by Ruth Slenczynska. That was almost 50 years ago but I still recall being quite spellbound by that story.
Slenczysnska, born in 1925 in California, was a sensation in Europe, called the greatest child piano prodigy since Mozart. She was Rachmaninoff's last pupil. Performed her debut in Berlin at age six. Her father was so demanding that she quit performing at fifteen. The title, "Forbidden Childhood" says it all. It's a painful tale of what a well meaning but misguided parent can do to a gifted child.
She resumed her career later and has written several books about piano technique. As far I can determine from some things found on the net, she is still with us and still teaching at eighty-two. I assume the book is still available. It's well worth a read by gifted ones and their parents.

Feeling Sheepish

Now the cow lobby is sore at me because I like Roquefort cheese and cows don't do Roquefort.

One Cheesy Blog

Cheesy. Or is it cheesey. Or cheesie? However you spell it, how did it get such a negative meaning? I like cheese. I worry about a possible cheese war between Wisconsin and California. Will the president send troops? Those commercials about happy California cows making the best cheese are getting the Wisconsin cheese-heads mighty riled. I like real cheese. I don't care where it comes from. But keep your American cheese, please. Nothing American about it. Boring. It has no taste. Give me sharp cheddar or Frankemuth. Take me to France for real Roquefort. And please, no processed cheese spread. What a travesty. An insult to cows.

Quiet Please

A smart fellow named Descarte said "All man's problems derive from his inability to sit quietly, in a room, alone". I like that. If there were a Quaker group around here I might join up. Not for any particular beliefs they hold. Just for the silence. No nervous laughter, nobody saying, "is something wrong,somebody say something!" Blessed quietness. Where did it go?

Millions of Blogs

Some great demographer/statistician says there are currently 17 million blogs. Or is it 70 million? No matter, It's a lot. I wonder how he counted them. Most of them, including this one, are just silly, turned out by goofy people with too much time on their hands.

Denny Crane does it again

Boston Legal's Denny Crane did it again ... kept me awake all night laughing about his problem using the magnetic thinking ideas from the movie, "The Secret" to get a visit from Raquel Welch. Be careful what you think about. You might wind up with Phyllis Diller.

Fart-friendly females

Advice to single men: If you find a woman who thinks farting is funny ....
MARRY HER!

SHORTHAND AND TIGHT SWEATERS

Does anybody use Shorthand anymore? I learned it in high school but today I wouldn't know an ish from a chay. Never got proficient. I was the only male in the class and the girls in their tight sweaters were more interesting than all those squiggly symbols. No, that's not one of my Shorthand classmates over there. It's the notorious Bettie Page. I suppose Shorthand has been replaced by some kind of 21st century digital assistant. Gone the way of Morse Code. Do we even have secretaries taking dictation these days? I dare say the very thought raises the ire of the feminists still complaining about the demeaning days when getting coffee for the boss was part of the job. Moving right along, Whatever happened to Esperanto? I ran into a local fellow who's a member of the international Esperanto Society. Wikipedia says 2 million people still use it but what Wikipedia says ain't always necessarily so. So why did that universal language not catch on big time? Was it ahead of its time? Speaking of time ... do those of us who think about things like that have too much of it on our hands?

Happy 60th, Elton

Elton John is 60!!?? Then I must be at least a hundred. I would look up my birth certificate to see how old I am but I don't remember where I put it. Maybe they didn't even keep birth records back then. Yes, that must be it.

Overhead Terpsichore

My nurse fetish continues to be fed. How come nurses are such wondrous writers? I am now in love with one who calls her blog DANCING ON THE CEILING. http://dancingontheceiling.blogspot.com/ Some of her posts are so powerful that they give me goosebumps. But she has me going nuts wondering where she got that title. Rodgers and Hart? Fred Astaire? Lionel Ritchie? I'm guessing her age at around 50, so that puts her in the Motown era, of which Lionel Ritchie's title that he stole from Rodgers and Hart is said to be a classic. Put me in the Rodgers and Hart camp, all you youngsters who inhabit the blogosphere. A wonderful, torchy love song written in 1930, 19 years before Ritchie was born. Pure ear candy. Lovely melody, delicious chord progressions to delight the ear and lyrics well calculated to get you all mushy. "He dances overhead on the ceiling near my bed." Now that's romance. No rock 'n' roll for this old fart, thank you.

Funeral Business

The funeral industry is often attacked for allegedly charging too much for services we don't need. Jessica Mittford's "The American Way of Death" seriously skewered the friendly neighborhood Digger O'Dell. (For the young pups out there, that's a reference to the undertaker on an old time radio sitcom.) Do we need embalming to make it look like our loved one is just sleeping in a beautiful enclosure? Do we need a drive-through viewing station so we can pay our respects and be on our way? How about a professionally produced audio visual presentation of the departed one's life story? Do we need a ten thousand dollar bill from the mortuary when it's all over? Well maybe we do. I can't seriously fault the mortician who says he's just giving us what we want. Ours is a materialistic society. We feel like we loved our departed one ten times more than the cheapskate who negotiated a thousand dollar cremation. Yes, prices are negotiable. But you must get past the guilt over haggling about the root of all evil at such an emotional time. Are there funeral people who will play on that guilt to extract more money from the grieving family? Of course. But the good ones won't.

OLD FARTS ANONYMOUS

I am pretty old. I will probably make it to the big eight-oh. If I do, the last thing I want to hear is "He's eighty years young." If there are guys who are truly young at advanced age, I admire them. But I don't envy them.

Shrinkology

I am probably at least as nutty as most other people and more so than some. But I don't think I will see a shrink. Two reasons: Number one, I am too cheap. Second of all, most shrinks are even nuttier than I am. So why should I pay them 200 an hour for their alleged wisdom and insights. All I need to do to feel pretty good about my own mental state is to watch Dr. Phil as he parades his unending collection of total looney toons nutcases before me each morning. Where does he get these people?? Do they really want help or are they going for an expense paid trip to Hollywood and ten minutes of fame on national TV.

Marriage Question

Would you want to be married to you? Why or why not??

Riverdale

In a flight of fancy for my profile, I made up the name "Riverdale" for my town. I forgot that's where Archie and Veronica and Jughead live. There's an online group of old time radio fans and performers that has regular posts from the fellow who played Jughead on the Archie Andrews
Saturday morning radio series.

Fox..... News?

Real Journalism. Fair and Balanced. That's was Fox News calls itself.

Mike Wallace asks Fox's Bill O'Reilly what he thinks of Rush Limbaugh. O'Reilly says Limbaugh is an entertainer. Wallace says "You're not?" O'Reilly says he's a journalist who is entertaining. That reminded me of a radio interview I did maybe 15 years ago with a writer for the local newspaper. I asked her what she thought of Paul Harvey. With what I interpreted as a bit of "real journalism" snobbery, she said, "He's not a newsman. He's an entertainer." I answered, "And a very good one." Paul's in his eighties, still on a bunch of radio stations.

Real Journalism? Fair and balanced? Give me a break. Just entertain me but don't call it journalism.

Ham Radio Funny Phonetics

Amateur radio operators are supposed to use the standard phonetic alphabet to make their call signs understandable. My old ND8O would be November Delta Eight Oscar. But it's more fun to make up your own. My G-rated one was Never Drop Eight Oranges. For the more bawdy buddies I talked with on the ham bands, there was Nancy Developed Eight Orgasms.

Snot, Poop. code of friendship

Golly gee whiz, how long ago was it that I met my old friend Etaoin Shrdlu, who hangs out at http://pot-of-message.blogspot.com/, first on ham radio, lost track of each other, got back together on the internet and now in the blogosphere. We have talked about everything, up to and including snot and poop. Cole Porter said it well. Friendship, friendship. What a perfect blendship. When other friendships have been forgot, ours will still be hot. If you're ever down a well, ring my bell. If you're ever in a mess, S. O. S. But you don't have to send it in Morse Code. We old hams who busted our butts learning the code to get a ham license are kind of sad that you don't have to do that anymore.

Repeat your name please

One of the most frustrating things about hearing impairment is that you can't distinguish the consonants that are so important in speech intelligibility. It's not a big deal that I can't always tell whether the Wheel of Fortune contestant is asking Vanna to show them a T or P, N or M, S or F. But it gets irritating and stupid when I call somebody by the wrong name because I didn't hear the first letter clearly. For a long time I thought the name of the cute blonde on Star Trek was Tess, as in Dick Tracy's girlfriend. Remember Tess Trueheart? Nope, it's Kes. If you live or work with a hearing impaired person who seems slow to respond to you, it may be that they are trying to figure out what you said so they don't give a goofy response.

Kes and Neelix

My current favorite TV couple. Last night, Kes had long hair and was poured into a uniform that was downright alarming. Hotter than a two dollar pistol on a Saturday Night. And she's only two years old! I don't think I want to see the episode where she transitions into her next form. I suppose she leaves Neelix behind. I might not be able to handle that.

HOT IN BED!

As I write this, Nurse Ratched's blog about getting older, "The Old Hen" has racked up 15 comments. Who knows what the number will be when you read it at http://www.nurse-ratcheds.blogspot.com/ Mr. Spock and I think that's fascinating. We believed the wise guys who claim the blogosphere is owned by teens and very young adults.
I shouldn't reveal this personal stuff, but my wife and I got really hot in bed last night. So we tossed out our hot water bottles and went back to sleep.

Hearing Loss

There will be great advances in hearing aid technology, cost and insurance coverage, only when large numbers of younger persons, well under retirement age, experience significant hearing impairment and hearing loss is no longer perceived as an old folks disease that must be hidden with tiny devices that can't be seen.

Shopping males?

There is something wrong with men who like to shop. That's not normal.

Online Groups

Those groups are a puzzlement to me. They do some good. They start some nice friendships. On the other side, they pump out a lot of misinformation. Disinformation, too, which is worse. And whether they are about a terrible medical condition or just some special interest or hobby thing, they always seem to degenerate into vicious personal attacks.

Star Power

I like to complain about show business stars having too much political clout. But I just remembered that my radio/TV idol, the forgotten giant, one of the great entertainers of the past century, is said to have had a major role in putting Eisenhower in the Whitehouse. I wonder if the young generation that pretty much owns the blogosphere has ever heard of him. His name: Arthur Godfrey.

Magnetic Personality

I must thank God or whoever it is that sends me ideas in the middle of the night. If It's God, He has a sense of humor. Most of the thoughts are not profound, just silly and fun to play with. Maybe it is God and He sends us what we need. Anyway ... I got this idea for some word play that's too good to pass up. The promotional material for THE SECRET, the book and movie that has everybody excited, names Carnegie as one of the great practioners of the law of attraction that they say sends out magnetic waves and brings whatever you think about into your life. Andrew Carnegie, at one time the richest man in the world, great philanthropist, founder of U. S. Steel. You could say he was a magnate and a magnet. There. I said it and I'm glad.

Wedding Anniversary

Sunday February 7, 1954, 4:00 PM. Radio listeners in Flint, Michigan heard a wedding on WMRP. It was broadcast from the Oak Park Methodist Church. WMRP deejay Clif Martin married Freda Shumate. So how do you stay married for over 50 years? Sorry, I have no wisdom, no advice, no secret, no formula. You just stay married. That’s neither profound nor romantic. You just stay married.

Ferengi Fun

My favorite Star Trek episodes are the ones about the Ferengi. Those greedy little conivers with their rules of acquistion are great fun. Wonderful writing.

Feline Foolish

If you run into me someplace and I am babbling baby talk, it doesn't necessarily indicate that I have gone senile. Although that's a distinct possibility. More likely, it's a habit from talking that way to my three and a half cats. My three plus a grand-cat who spends a lot of time here. His brain is not all there. He has cerebeller hypoplasia. He pukes a lot, too.

Bugged by Dr. Phil

You're too hard on us men, Doc. You want us to be more like women because that's what your female audience wants. We are what we are.

Molly Ivins, Wittenburg Door

Interesting conicidence. A couple posts ago I mentioned the religious satire magazine, "The Wittenburg Door." They have now issued a reprint of their interview with Molly Ivins, who has died. http://wittenburgdoor.com/MollyIvins.html

Oddest Couple

Dick Cheney and Shirley Schmidt dancing on the balcony. Denny Crane, whose gun goes off prematurely, as Cheney in hunting clothes. Allan Shore in drag as the hot Ms. Schmidt. That's funny. That's Boston Legal.

Religious satire

I pretty much confine my religious rants and raves to one of the other Canary Feathers blogs at http://canfeath.blogstream.com. If you think religion is a fit subject for satire, there's a great magazine, The Wittenburg Door. Check it out. It's a holy hoot. http://www.wittenburgdoor.com/newsletter/index.html

DANGEROUS KITTY POOP

I just noticed that the kitty litter bag carries a Toxoplasmosis warning. That's a very serious disease that can cause blindness. If you are pregnant or there is anything wrong with your immune system, stay way from the litter box. Have someone else change it for you. And of course, wash hands thoroughly if you have cats. My daughter had it when she was quite young. We were very frightened. It was treated in time with strong drugs and she is OK.

Favorite Cats

My very favorite cats are those that swallow canaries and grin broadly, licking their whiskers as they burp canary feathers.

Great Blogs

There is, in my never to be humble opinion, but a tiny handful of blogs that justify the existence of the blogosphere. The rest of them, including my three, just take up space.

CSI: Miami Babes

EMILY PROCTER, the blonde, has a high voice I can't handle. Sounds like a 10 year old kid. KHANDI ALEXANDER, who is not blonde, can purr in my ear any time. Looks as good as she sounds, too. Is that her real name? Should be if it isn't. She is candy for my eyes and ears.

Matchmaker, make me a match

Do couples that found each other through a high-compatibility matchmaking service stay together longer than those that just stumble into each other? Are there any studies? Seems to me that people and their needs change so much over the years that long haul success is just a crap shoot.

I Love Cats

I don't mean like. I mean love. I love cats. Cats are more fun than anything. Cats are a lot more fun than people. There is something seriously wrong with people who don't like cats.

Ben Stein

I like Ben Stein because he's low key. He may be the only media star who doesn't get all hyper and shouty. My last years in radio were most unhappy because there's none of the rock jock in me. I couldn't talk loud and fast enough to make it in the profession I loved. Very depressing.

Miss Peggy Lee

I've been thinking about Peggy and her songs. No other singer can get right in my ear and let me know she's singing just to me. And that haunting "Is that all there is" packs a pwerful emotional punch. She kept on turning out hits from her big band days with Benny Goodman right up to the time of her death. One fine lady.

FAVORITE BLOG

Nurse Ratched's Place" (http://www.nurse-ratcheds.blogspot.com/) gets my vote for the very best of the blogosphere. It's personal, it's funny, it's caring, it's literate. It's all that without being preachy, pedantic and self-important. Great writing and wonderful pictures. Oughta be more nurses like her. And more blogs like that one, too.

Thank you Graham!!

I must publicly thank Graham, who works for the blogspot support team, for his patient and lengthy correspondence that finally got this blog up and running again after I messed it up with countless changes of username and passwords. You're a good man, Graham!