Okay. I promised I would write every day for a week and like a North Korean nuclear treaty, before the ink was dry I was violating the terms. I didn't write on Friday. The world ceased to spin. Actually, I planned to write and just as I sat down at the computer, a huge tsunami came crashing into shore from Lake Superior and I lost my internet for 45 minutes.

This brings to mind other blatant lies I have told in the past. Most of the time, the most obvious lies were to 'save' myself embarassment or prevent some unknown perceived bad consequence from happening. A few times I have lied just for the sheer fun of it.

Since I am temporarily unable to post to My Story, I'll jump ahead to one of the most egregious lies of my broadcasting career. It is a lie I revelled in. Ah (as I often write on the other pages), I am getting ahead of my story.

Soon, you will hear the story of my summer of discontent...the 5 months I spent working as General Manager of WEBC in Duluth. When I die I shall go directly to heaven, completely passing the 300 or 400 thousand years I owe for various venial sins in my long life. I have already suffered purgatory working for those people at WEBC. In 1978, Memorial Day approached and having worked for this company for almost half of what was to be my total punishment, the powers-that-be decreed a 'company' meeting of mangers (General & Sales) to be held in Fargo. The meetings were scheduled for Thursday & Friday and at the close of the week's business we would all proceed to our leaders' summer homes in the Detroit Lakes area. That Friday night we all ate at a restaurant in the area and everything was fine. I didn't sleep well in the country and was awake and sitting on the patio as the sun rose on a rather cool and unpleasant Saturday morning. Are there ever really ANY nice days in Minnesota in late May. For god's sake, summer is at least a month and a half away. Anyway..on slate for the day was fishing. Fishing!!!!!! I am proud to say, I have never caught a fish in my life. I have also not eaten one. I eschew creatures who live in their own toilet. But fishing had been decreed and fishing it was to be. We were on the lake, lines in the water within an hour. And another hour. And another. Oh My God In Heaven! What did I do to deserve this torture. Tedious minute upon tedious minute. Why didn't I bring a book? A Ouiji board? Razor blades? A Harikari knife! Cyanide!

Am I emoting? Maybe it wasn't as bad as I am carrying on, but I hated it and after all...it is...ALL ABOUT ME. After being on the water for 6 months, we broke for lunch. The fish patiently waited for us to finish and my parole was revoked in the early afternoon and back on the water we went. The saving grace that afternoon was trolling. Rather than sitting static they wanted to troll so I volunteered to drive the ship. As a deversion, that lasted about an hour before I started feeling like Fletcher Christian looking for a Tahitian. In my flights of fantasy I was at the helm of the Titanic...the only difference....I was LOOKING for an ice berg. Ignoring the Albatros sitting on the bow of our bass boat (A portent of my future at WEBC?) we finally reached the New World at about five. That night after infecting the natives with small pox, at dinner and later in bed, my mood was bleak. Fishing was again on tap for Sunday AND Monday morning to be followed by a BBQ Memorial Day Afternoon, my sentence to end later that day. I had to come up with a plan! Think! Think! AHA! I have got it!!!! In these dire circumstances no piddling little lie would work. (My grandma's funeral.er..um..."But Rob, they're holding the funeral on Memorial Day?" er..um...er...she's a Seventh Day Adventist....er..um..no...a Moslem...in the ground in hours or ..no virgins for you!!)

The next morning my acting was superb. Patty Duke would have been fucking awed! I sniffled. I sneezed. I coughed. I had a plugged nose. I gasped. After about 30 minutes of performance, FINALLY...someone asked me what was the matter. What? What?!!! I'll tell you what...All this country/lake/fish crap has aggravated my SEVERE allergies to ..er..um....ah...COUNTRY/LAKE/FISH CRAP. If I don't do something I may have a complete bodily shut-down. Why, I just read (In the Enquirerer) that a woman in Great Britain died of her COUNTRY/LAKE/FISH CRAP allergy (as well as a flesh eating bacterial disease) and the doctors could do nothing.

It was soon decided that the best thing was to get away from all this country, lake, and fish crap and head home. So, before noon on Sunday, with 50% of my sentence yet to be served, I left and with my perfidy (actually, it was a Chrysler), I headed home. I remember so well driving across northern Minnesota, the windows open, the wind blowing through my hair and routinely cleaning out the empty fast-food bag garbage on the back floor. I was exhilirated as never before. Somewhere along the way, a black bear ambled across the road in front of me. As it scooted into the woods, I passed by struck by the realization that I, like that wonderful creature, was FREE! The country/lake/fish crap didn't bother me OR the bear! We were one. Simpatico. In sync! Larger Than Life! (Oh wait. That's the Back Street Boys. I ALWAYS mix up my boy bands)

I do not regret that lie and have not confessed it. Even God, understands that one

Until tomorrow, my friends...

"...All you people can't you see, can't you see..."

Stuck with the Back Street Boys, I remain,

Rob