FOLLOW ME NOWHERE

A word to the wise should suffice – If you ever find yourself lost, do not look to me to be your “north star.” When I walk out of a store, I generally can't find my car. I have no sense of direction whatsoever and often find myself sobbing in frustration because I can't find my way from where I am to where I want to be. It's a good thing I wasn't Moses. The Children of Israel could well have become known as the Children of Idaho. If you tell me to go two blocks and turn “east,” I could very easily wind up driving into the sea. I think this was why I found it so amusing when, while driving a well rehearsed and memorized route, I got diverted by an accident in an intersection that was key to my getting home. I was directed to take the street to the left as a detour. How hard could it be? Logic told me that I would take the left, go to my first right, turn, find the next right and be back to my original street. Unfortunately, logic doesn't always prevail. I took the left and went straight. There was no right turn and I ended up at a dead end. As I made a u-turn to find a right turn (which would have been a left if I was still going the other way), I couldn't help but notice that there was now a line of traffic following me. “Boy, are THEY screwed,” I thought, as I took the right that used to be a left and found myself even more confused. Now, what? As I drove, I saw a street on the left and a street on the right. Which one should I take? Logic hadn't worked before, what made me think it would possibly be of any help now? I turned right and so did the caravan that I had amassed while lost in a very lovely neighborhood with a whole bunch of winding streets that seemed to go nowhere and now had a parade, of sorts, going through it. I almost wanted to get out and join the spectators. It took about 15 minutes to find my way out of the maze and back to the road that I knew would take me home. As I made it to the light, I saw the guy in the car behind me, shaking his fist. My mind heard Moe, of the Three Stooges, saying “Why you....” but, I'm certain he was a bit saltier. I wondered how many of the others felt the same way. I never told them to follow me. I made the turn back to the street I knew, praying that there would be no other little glitches that could get me lost before I made it home. Thank goodness there weren't. It could have made for a very tense three minutes. THAT'S HOW I FEEL....................................................WHAT CAN I TELL YA'

PUNNY FUN

I was recently watching an episode of The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show, which, I should explain to you younger folk, is an ancient TV show that used an almost archaic concept that was once referred to as “being funny.” Most of the laughs went to Gracie, whose character was defined by her wit, double-talk and use of sharp puns. I love a good pun.Samuel Johnson once called the pun “The lowest form of humor,” which, by the way, he spelled with two u's, making the word itself hilarious. He also said - “A man is in general better pleased when he has a good dinner upon his table, than when his wife talks Greek." So, we know how much stock to place in anything ever said by Samuel Johnson. The pun is wordplay that suggests multiple meanings of words, or of similar-sounding words, for an intended laugh. It takes much more thought and a better vocabulary to deliver a pun than it does to toss a banana peel on the floor and wait for the same effect. The biggest difference being that the pun will illicit more of a groan and the banana peel should bring a heartier guffaw as the intended victim is being hauled off by the paramedics. When William joined the army he dreaded hearing the phrase 'fire at will' is, possibly, the perfect example of both. We laugh at the double meaning of the word “will” as it relates to William's name and we laugh, once again, as the paramedics carry him off after the entire platoon fired at him. A homographic pun uses a word that has a number of meanings - “I call my printer Bob Marley because it's always Jammin'” A homophonic pun uses similar sounding words - “The Nature Preserve is an eagle opportunity employer.” There are so many different types of puns – The compound pun, animal puns. Whether your pun is one word or an entire sentence, the result is meant to be humorous - leading to funny puns. Since the pun is the lowest form of wit, the last thing we can have is a “good pun” because then, it becomes an oxymoron and that's a whole new conversation. THAT'S HOW I FEEL.......................................WHAT CAN I TELL YA'

AHA........UH OH

I've always heard that “necessity” was the mother of invention. That's why I began to wonder, aloud in a few cases, just what the necessity was that prompted some of the concoctions that have been popping up in my line of sight lately. While perusing an airline shopping magazine on a recent flight, I noticed a gadget that allows you to use your smart phone underwater. The first and, I might add, the only thought that popped into my head was, “I suppose if you need a GPS to get to the other side of the pool, it might come in handy, but, other than that why, on earth, would anyone want to bring their phone under water?” Maybe to watch “Jaws” from the sharks perspective? I decided to see if I could find more inventions that had absolutely no practical use and the results were staggering. I thought I'd share a few. I found Twitter toilet paper: It's sold in packs of 4 for $35 and you can choose between your own tweets or someone else's. Look – you get to read while you're on the john and, when you're done, make a statement that, ideally, no one will ever know about. How about Princess Leia Headphone Covers: For all the die-hard 'Star Wars' fans out there, now you can look more like Princess Leia than ever. You can also use your headphones to drown out the sound of the Death Star destroying Leia's home planet of Alderaan. Although, to the uninitiated, it may appear as though you are wearing hairy cinnamon buns on your ears......you may have some 'splainin' to do. Then, there's the Solar Baseball Cap: Chances are the best way to keep cool is NOT to mount a solar panel on top of your head and a plastic fan directly in front of your face. I guess it's the thought that counts. Love the taste of bacon, but cholesterol issues keeping you away? Try bacon flavored wax dental floss. You'll go hog wild for THIS meaty piece of idiocy. These and myriad others are everywhere. So you see, necessity isn't really the mother of invention after all. In fact, I'm convinced that the only TRUE Mother of Invention that can't be contested was Frank Zappa! THAT'S HOW I FEEL................WHAT CAN I TELL YA'

GAS

Remember the old days, when you went to the gas station to fill-up so that your car would get you to a restaurant where you could...”fill up?” At the gas station, a guy would walk up to your car and ask if what you needed. He would pump the gas, check the oil and wiper fluid and, if need be, pull your car into the garage and fix whatever was wrong with it. He would then hand you a bunch of S&H Green Stamps that you would put into books until you saved enough for new dishes. Some places even cut out the middle man and just gave you the dishes. Then you would pull into the restaurant, park, go inside, be seated, waited on and fed. Pretty good deal.. Things got a little easier when fast food restaurants started to pop up everywhere. How easy was that? After you pull into the gas station and pump your own gas while neglecting to check the oil and wiper fluid, you drive a short distance, find a building where you see a clown's nose to speak into, order your food, pull up to the next window, get your food and drive home.....or eat in the car. Your choice. There isn't a whole lot that's easier to do then talk into a clown's nose and drive forward a few feet. Things have now, however, gotten even less complicated. Now, when you pump your own gas, neglect the fluid checks and go into the former garage turned convenience store, you can also buy dinner for your family. Many of the aforementioned fast food establishments have re-established themselves inside gas stations. So now, you can fill your car with gas, go inside and fill your body with gas. “Honey, I'm gonna go fill up the car, want some chicken?” would have made no sense at all not that long ago. Now they give you choices, inside and out. So many questions. Should I pump regular or high test? Do I want Taco Bell or Godfather's Pizza? Do I want to buy some exorbitantly over priced food to prepare at home or stand in a line for the next twenty minutes to buy a lottery ticket when I could actually save time by just throwing a couple of dollars into the trash can on the way out? And, what the hell are S&H Green Stamps? You used to “Look for the man with the bright, red Texaco Star” when you needed gas. Now, the sign will have a picture of a chihuahua and a Kentucky Colonel.And we wonder why there's so much confusion in the world. THAT'S HOW I FEEL...........WHAT CAN I TELL YA'

FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD

Remember the last time you opened the fridge only to find something on the back of the shelf that was “some shade of green?” The experience begs a couple of questions: Can you identify it? Oh, it doesn't have to be a very accurate identification, ball park estimate is OK. Can you imagine ever being so hungry that you might be tempted to get past the smell and the appearance and go right for whatever nutrition value might be left? A small addendum to that question could be – Is there enough money in the world to even attempt to find that left over nutrition? You know the stuff – cheese that starts out yellow, but, inevitably ends up green. Milk that smells like it was bottled in a sulfer mine. A sandwich that looks like a small community has taken up residence on it's once doughy surface and, of course, that mystery meat that you are sure started out breathing, but, has now taken on a life of it's own. The thought was prompted by a story I read about a Utah man who was cleaning out his closet and found a bulge in the pocket of one of his coats. When he reached in, which in itself may not have been the wisest thing to do, he found, of all things, a hamburger. A hamburger that was bought in 1999 for 79 cents. I'm sure his first thought must have been, “Hey is that a hamburger in my pocket, or am I just really happy to see the coat again?” It was mummified and, by the looks of it, far more appetizing than much of what comes off fast food grilles these days. It had dried to the point that no self respecting bacterium could live in it. Initially, for kicks, he put it on e-bay where the price got up to around $2,000. He didn't sell it. Then a radio station contacted the guy and offered him $5,000 so that one of their interns could microwave it and eat it at some station promotion – hopefully, the opening of a new stomach pumping clinic or something along those lines. He declined all offers and has put the burger in a tin that he keeps on his kitchen counter, although, at those prices he may want to consider a bank vault. I haven't cleaned out my fridge for quite some time. It appears I'm long over due. I'm relatively sure that what I have been assuming was spinach is something far more adventurous. I'm going to get on this right away. Not because I'm necessarily hungry, but, because this story taught me that out there in the ether world of e-bay, there are people who will buy, pretty much, anything and I'd like to replace the spinach with some nice, cool cabbage! THAT'S HOW I FEEL.........WHAT CAN I TELL YA'

DECISIONS - DECISIONS

From the time we wake up until the time we fall asleep....every move we make is based on a conscious decision. With the exception of involuntary movement, like eye blinking and the occasional nervous facial tic, it's all about choice. These choices don't, necessarily, take a whole lot of thought. When you wake up with a full bladder, for instance, the decision to turn over and go back to sleep may not be the wisest. Rolling over onto a cold, wet spot is certainly not the ideal way to start the day, but, it's a decision, nonetheless. We choose to brush our teeth because we have decided that we may want to be able to have a face-to-face conversation sometime during the day. We make the decision to eat breakfast, lunch and/or dinner at various times throughout the day. We go to work or school or food shopping, not because we are required to, but because we have made the decision to do so. It is our own free will that takes us to school – so that we can be educated and get a job. We choose to go to work – so we can make the necessary funds to sustain ourselves with shelter and food. We go to the food store because we have to eat to have the strength to go to work to justify the education we decided to pursue. I made the decision to go to the food store this morning because I was in the mood to satisfy my need to sustain with a roast beef sandwich. When I got to the deli department, I chose a nice, lean Boar's Head roast beef, sliced paper thin. When I got home, my wife informed me that she would have preferred a port wine roast beef and that what I had brought home tasted like it had just been shaved from the cow. It did.....it was delicious. I had not, in my mind made a bad decision. The worst decision of the day award had to go to the guy who was standing near me in the deli section. He had ordered a pound of cheese and saw that it was $20. He immediately started complaining asking what the hell he had just bought. Was it gold cheese? He walked away and went directly to customer service to complain. The woman from customer service came to the deli counter to investigate, only to find a French Gruyere in the deli case, clearly marked - $19.99 a pound. At that point he walked out, complaining, with his holy grail of cheese, knowing, I suppose, that if someone at home finds it scrumptious and is happy because of it, he hadn't made a bad decision. THAT'S HOW I FEEL........WHAT CAN I TELL YA'

PUTTING THE ROCK IN ROCK & ROLL

I spent nearly a half a century behind a microphone, wearing headphones that were turned up to a level that could be heard by anyone within a 6 or 7 mile radius. Most of the radio stations I worked for dealt with rock & roll, in some way, shape or form. It would stand to reason, then, that I would have a lot of very cool stories about a lot of very cool people. Musicians, politicians, authors, butchers, bakers and candlestick makers – I got to play with some very nifty folk. This story is about none of them. In fact the only relationship it has to rock & roll is in the form of a rock. We had begun our little experiment in Mokena, Illinois. in August of 1981. It was experimental because, until that point, there was nobody broadcasting radio formats via satellite 24/7-365. We were an upstart young company who's concept would, eventually become the norm and, ironically, a death knell for local radio everywhere. We were the Satellite Music Network, which went on to become the ABC Radio Network for many years and we had 2 formats and 2 affiliates at the start. The industry laughed at us, but we were proud. We even had a little sign in front of the microphone that paraphrased ZZ Top, “We're Bad – We're Nationwide.” We were doing something that had never been done and we were inventing solutions to problems as they arose. My job at SMN was to be up at 3am and on the air by 5, fully prepared to attempt to entertain people around the country from my little studio sandwiched in between the True Value Hardware store and the pet store in a little strip mall in Mokena. I did the morning show for the Starstation. The format was “Adult Contemporary” or rock & roll for people who had gotten a little too old to actually rock & roll and were now attempting to remain “hip” without breaking one.....taking a walk on the mild side. This particular morning was especially cold, even for Illinois in the middle of winter and I opted to take the Honda to work. We actually had 2 Hondas, but one was in the garage and I figured I would just make it easier on everyone and take the one that was outside. Trying to get the lock unfrozen and the door open was, in itself a production that should have alerted me that I was supposed to take the other car. The warm one, in the garage. The route from my house in Frankfort to the studio in Mokena took me through a good 6 miles of forest preserve. It was a pretty straight shot, down a single 2 lane road through the woods. As I started to drive, my door opened. It was too cold to close, but, I was on my way, so I held it shut, the curse words beginning to bubble a little just below the surface of my psyche. About 3 miles into my journey, I noticed a street light and decided to stop and try to get the door closed. I had to be on the air in about 20 minutes and I was close enough to do this little chore and make the rest of my ride easier and warmer. I played with the lock and shut the door – voila' –it closed.........and locked. Now I was on the outside looking into my car, in the middle of a forest preserve, in below zero weather, with less than 20 minutes before the mic went on. That's when I did the only thing any sane human being would do in a similar situation – I picked up a rock and aimed it at the drivers window. Now let me preface the next part of the story with a little tidbit. I started playing baseball when I was 8 years old, played semi-pro for a couple of years while stationed in Nashville and had been scouted by the Red Sox as a pitcher. Here I stood, less that six feet from my car window. “He takes a look at the plate....shakes off the signal deciding to go with a pitch of his own. He takes the windup – here's the pitch.....ohhhh, he missed the plate” – and the window. There was a dent in my driver's side door and those aforementioned curse bubbles were now flowing like hot lava, freezing as they hit the cold early morning air, dropping with a thud on the ground near my front tire. I picked up the rock and threw it again, this time, hitting the widow square on and shattering it all over the front seat. Now I had less than 15 minuted to get to work. I climbed in and closed the door, which did, indeed, shut and sat in a pile of glass as the wind howled into the car and I drove that last few miles to work. I got to work with about 2 minutes to spare, spewing invective that would embarrass a drunken sailor on shore leave. I was able to regain my composure long enough to call the police and make a report.....you know, about those kids who were throwing rocks at the cars in the parking lot, smashing my driver's window. (shaking fist in the air) “Damned kids.....” The song I was playing was about over and it was time to turn on the mic and “perform.” I was still seething when I saw the control room door open. My newsman, I'll call him Dave, because that was his name, walked into the studio and plunked a rock the size of my fist onto the console - “Here,” he announced, “you dropped your keys.” I almost couldn't get off the floor from laughing so hard. From that point on the show was a breeze. Cut to nearly 30 years later. I find Dave on Facebook, still a news anchor and still in Chicago. After all that time, his first words to me: “I still have your keys in my back yard.”