I have refrained from spending a lot of time with my opinions of what is wrong with radio today. Opinions are like ass-holes.... You know the rest. Quite frankly, I don't spend a lot of time thinking about radio. I have other things to think about. In any given week, if I listen to 10 minutes of regular contemporary radio there must be sports on my talk stations. I AM out of touch.

It was an unusual night when I spent a few minutes staring at the ceiling thinking about what I was wrong. I have come to two conclusions. First, the entertainment radio shows all seem to take themselves waaaaay to seriously. It irritates me that someone as mean spirited, negative, ill-informed, as Don Imus can become a millionaire. Like so many, his real talent is his ability to convince people he has some. And there are many like him.

Secondly, where is the genuine fun. I was watching an old Dean Martin show and the sheer exuberance and fun was more than contagious. It was genius. I remember a bit that Steve Allen did. He played a sports caster but it was the early version of all the various "news" reports done on SNL or copycats. I never understood that bit on Saturday Night Live. It just wasn't funny. However, when Steve Allen did it I would fall on the floor laughing.

I guess what I am saying is that most of the people I hear on radio don't really sound like they are enjoying themselves. That's my bottom line. Not surprising when you think that the least funny comment will get an LOL and just a tiny bit of humor gets a LMAO!

So, I have compiled a list of funny. Here are some. Feel free to add.

Jack Benny - Funny

The Seinfeld Show - Funny

Jerry Seinfeld - Not funny

Saturday Night Live - Not Funny

Al Franken - Not Funny

Bill Mahre - Not Funny

Ricky Gervais - Funny

Charlie Chaplin - Not Funny

Laurel & Hardy - Funny

Topo Gigo - Not Funny

Family Guy - Funny

American Dad - Not Funny

Larry King - Dead

There are a lot more, but my brain is working too hard thinking of them. Next time I'll post the parrot story and it will explain a lot.

Take Care...Rob

I know I was grousing about it yesterday, but the Senior Christmas Lunch was fun this year. The volunteer kids from the High School did a good job of serving the geezers and even handled my brother's request for more gravy. I don't go for the food, but to see some cousins I rarely see, perhaps to win a door prize, get the various freebies including my pound of authentic Native American wild rice and have a little tradition in my life. BTW...no turkey. Roast beef and baked chicken. The only problem...only dark meat. One of the reasons I don't eat the goose or the duck. All dark meat you know. It could have been worse. Earlier in the week I was invited to a local Lutheran Church's annual Lutefisk and Swedish Meatball dinner. Boiled potatoes and Swedish meatballs are on the list of foods served in Heaven, but I'll pass on the lutefisk. I don't eat anything that swims. Another reason not to eat duck or goose.

I went to dinner with some friends and they were eating oysters. Technically an oyster doesn't swim. Does it crawl? No..I think oysters just stay there. People who eat oysters on the half shell get almost orgasmic while eating them. They are supposed to be aphrodisiacs. When I was younger I ate a dozen oysters but only 11 of them worked.

Have you noticed how different foods are eaten by different social types. I can't picture a stereotypical San Francisco gay eating at Old Country Buffet. Can you imagine some guy with a rifle in the window of his truck and a 24 pack of cheap beer teling you they were a vegan? I don't know where I'm going with all this. Somehow I got off the track. That is because my nose is plugged, it is going to be -20 tonight and tomorrow I have to help my sister-in-law decorate her Christmas tree. MY tree has been up since.....hm.....let me think.... 2002. Yup! That's right. 2002. I think after Christmas I may dust it.

Rob

Everyday important things happen. Everyday there are tragedies we try to understand. I spend a lot of time shouting at the TV and I am frequently tempted to bring my shouting here. I don't.

There are already too many opinions on the why and what-for. I prefer to keep my blog-umbrage among the banal and trivial. Have you ever wondered why old codgers get so upset because kids cut across their lawns? It is a time thing. Whether the world is a mess, the next generation screws it up worse, Social Security is in trouble or the Islamic Nut-Jobs will do this or that is too far in the future to worry about it. I NOW understand why old people used to say, "Well, when that happens I'll be pushing up daisies...". But when a damn kid rides his bike across the corner of your yard, BY GOD, I can deal with that RIGHT NOW!

Tomorrow I'll celebrate a bit of my Native American heritage by letting them give me a free holiday meal. Yes, the annual Senior's Christmas Dinner. I'd probably skip it (if for no other reason than it will probably be the despised turkey) but, my older brother likes me to go. And I might win one of the door prizes.

This afternoon I dropped by Old Country Buffet. I don't go their to join the competition. You know...the buffet competition. The object being to try to eat so much that you are an unprofitable customer. I just like to make myself a big salad. The salad I make would cost at least the $8.46 I pay and I'm sure someone else will pick up my gluttony slack with 6 or 7 pieces of chicken and two or three thousand calories of desserts.

My visits to Old Country Buffet lately have been star-crossed.I know my complaint isn't PC and I should have more generosity of spirt and there-but-the-grace-of-God-go-I....but sometimes I am rather shallow. Why do the people who sit in the adjoining booths always have some...well....some deformity....or unfortunate condition? It is starting to bug me. I guy in a wheel-chair with a urine bag hanging from the back full of sloshing yellow liquid. I'm sorry. A circus-fat woman who literally was sitting on two chairs. A man who picked his nose before going back for seconds. An extremely old man who shuffles feebly two and fro. A woman with literally one tooth, who makes eye-contact and smiles everytime you look up. And today, a man with a hook!

I feel so ashamed. My only solice is that a woman with one tooth is blogging at this very moment a complaint about the pervert who stares at her laciviously everytime she goes to Old Coutnry Buffet.

Rob

There are two reasons I could never live in the country. Make that...out in the country. Well, actually, there are dozens of reasons I could never live OUT in the country but two significant reasons dominate the list. Bears and UFO's. I am terrified of bears. Remember the movie that was sort of a Swiss Family Robinson movie but in the mountains and a grizzly bear attacks the house? As a kid I used to read magazines in my father's store. Men's magazines. Some were just excuses to look at the sexy pictures (tame by today's standarads) and some were loaded with stories of manly adventure. A strong impression if dozens of man-bear encounters. People were constantly surprising a bear and coming out the worse for it. At least in San Fran...I don't worry about being attacked by a bear. Unless I am hanging about south of Market! (Such a wonderful and unplanned SF inside joke) Once I had a nightmare about a San Francisco earthquake and in the dream I was in the streetcar tunnel under Twin Peaks and during the quake the bears had escaped from the zoo and were in the tunnel with me. It makes sense I suppose because if a bear is going to get from the zoo to south of Market, the quickest way is through the tunnel. LOL

Now, UFO's seem not to be a problem in bigger cities. With the exception of 50's movies where the Flying Saucer always takes a route that goes right by the Capitol building. In 5th or 6th grade I walked home at about 10pm one night, certain that I was going to be attacked by a UFO. Seriously, my heart was pounding loud enough to attrack an alien when I reached the safety of home. I walked all over San Francisco. I may have had reason to fear the denizens of some of the areas I passed through, but I never worried about being probed. Wait a minute. This is San Francisco...there is probing going on just about everywhere!

I was at the movies this afternoon. Just one movie but you know...that's what people say. At the MOVIES. My nephew recommended a book called No Country For Old Men. It was pretty good. Unique style of writing, The movie is playing so I dug out of the snow drifts to see it. I go as much for the popcorn as for the film. The theaters are going to start showing an HD live presentation of the Saturday afternoon Metropolitan Opera. I have loved opera since I was 11. Weird child! Maybe the aliens DID get me. The first one is on the 15th and I'll be there. I wonder if it is gauche to eat popcorn at the opera.

So, I like to sit in the first row of the stadium seating because there is a metal railing and I can put my feet up on it. Just like I used to do when I watched Hopalong Cassidy when I was 10. I used to arrange my jacket on my lap, empty the popcorn into the lining of the jacket and feet it down the sleeve into my hand. For some reason it tasted better after it made that trip. It isn't THAT stupid. Don Bleu mixes JuJuBees with his popcorn and my sister-in-law mixes popcorn with Junior Mints.

There was no in my row except me. And no one in the row behind me. Until some guy entered and with all the available seats chose to sit in the one directly behind me. He was a Space Invader! That was wrong. The was weird. And to make it even worse for the first 10 minutes he cleared his throat every 15-20 seconds. It was a good movie so I soon forgot he was there and I don't remember being probed but I did give him a dirty look on the way out of the theater.

On the way home the low gas light came on. I hadn't noticed how low it had gotten. The snow was pretty thick the last couple of days and the visibility was poor. Plus I was on the look-out for bears and UFO's and I just don't multitask well. I got gas at a strange station and it was disconcerting because I couldn't figure out how the thing worked. I GOT gas. That sounds disgusting. But then I don't want to say I pumped gas because that sounds kind of pornographic. We used to laugh like hell about pumping ethel.

Anyway, I made it through the storm....kept my world protected. (Sorry Barry--And Sorry about your politics too...)

Speaking about Christmas....I have a wonderful spot for a new flat screen....

Rob

Remember when you were in school, dreading a test or worried about an assignment unfinished and the fates stepped in with a SNOW DAY! Today, I feel like that. For weeks I have fretted and stewed over a doctor's appointment in Minneapolis. Yesterday his office called and cancelled. He was stuck in Boston and I avoided being stuck in Minneapolis. It is snowing here but the brunt of the storm is to the south and in celebration I am going to jump in a fresh snow bank and make angels.

Actually, I wouldn't venture out the door if I didn't have to re-stock the larder. I would never make it as a Mormon because I rarely have anything on-hand. I can do all my shopping at the local Cub...some power bars, diet Mountain Dew, a couple of Stouffers and I am good to go. And thanks to the self-check-out, I can also get condoms, lube, hemmaroid cream, anti-itch medicine, laxatives, beard dye, wet-wipes, toilet paper, toe fungus ointment, sanitary napkins, Depends, and tweezers without the least fear of embarassment.

Since I am not in San Francisco, I will put everything in double plastic bags. Tomorrow I may go to Home Depot to get a new lock for my medicine cabinet.

Have a good day..how's your Christmas shopping going? I need an air freshener for the Lexus.

Rob

I am impelled to write about turkey. A few years ago I wrote somewhere on the site about things people do just because people do. Turkey falls in that catagory. Does anyone REALLY like turkey? There is so much wrong with it. First, it really doesn't taste very good. Turkey gravy is good and proper home-made stuffing (not Stovetop) is tasty. Even deli-turkey seems to come from a different animal. The turkey inflicted on me at Thanksgiving never rises to its promise. Bags, basting, pop-up timers, deep-fryers, Butterball, fresh, frozen, turkey filet...all fail to provide the universal quest: a moist bird! (Somehow that sounds vaguely pornographic)

You may think I'm full of shit because millions of people supposedly LOVE turkey. Millions of people supposedly think Willie Nelson can sing. (zing!) I just thought of my best argument against turkey. Ask 20 people what their favorite food is and if even one says...turkey...I'll stick a wishbone in my eye. The answers will be pizza or steak or Kraft Macaroni and Cheese or Kraft Cheese and Macaroni. If turkey doesn't even make anyone's top 20 then why oh why is their this holiday obsession with it?

I am a traditional sort of guy so in spite of my turkey-scorn, I'll accept it as a yearly infliction. I know, however, that the demons of hell dwell in those who cook up another bird for Christmas! Please...! Please....! I rather have chicken.

One acceptable use of turkey-off-the-bone is the sandwich my older brother taught me to make as a child. Make toast. Butter the toast and liberally slather on mayonaise (or if you are a philistine, Miracle Whip). Now, slices of turkey (chunky ones) and perhaps a little left over dressing. Sliced pickles and some left over salad. Even cole slaw is permissable. Now that the sandwich is complete cut it into quarters diagonally corner to corner and dip each bite in ketchup and consume with cold milk. Heaven! I'm in Heaven!

The same sandwich, though, is much better with left over roast beef. If I ever see anyone make this sandwich on the Food Channel, I shall sue.

Rob

Back when I first began the website I used to have regular rants. Some of the classics from those writings are still there including one of my favorite Thanksgiving stories. My family is nuts. After about a year of rants someone wrote asking if I ever ranted about anything that didn't involve food. I was nice in my answer but I should have just wrote FY! All this comes to mind because I have been thinking of the Thursday dinner since Saturday. Today, it really began to obsess me. There is no way the actual meal will rise to the level of the anticipation. I now think that looking forward to it is much more fun than actually eating the meal and certainly better than the way you feel afterwards.

As gluttonous as I am on Thanksgiving I have never actually vomited. Once at a friend's home I used my arm to keep some kids toss-up from flowing into the carpeting but that is the closest I came to TG-Barf. No matter where I eat my Thanksgiving meal, it seems the cooks were spectacular. With a couple of exceptions. Even those exceptions are memorable for one reason or another. Eight years ago I had my Thanksgiving Day dinner at a hauf brau in San Francisco on Van Ness called Tommy's Joint. I was shocked by how many others were settling for Thanksgiving on a tray. The line was out the door and down the block. I am not that fond of turkey but had Tommy's out of a need for tradition. The buffalo chili or corn beef might have been a better choice. One thing about Tommy's...they served my favorite beer. Bohemia

I had some memorable meals with the Bleu's, with my brother Tim, with Kenny Tinkle and his kids and Jon Castro...and at least one with Swanson and of course Tommy. Maybe it is the people who make Thanksgiving special and not the food?

Nah! It's the food.

Rob

I know I should have written a lot more but, damn! I can be lazy. If you look at the regular site you'll see that the story continues and I have left the Twin Cities and actually moved on to the story of my brief career visit to Duluth. Speaking of Duluth, tonight I will take a small part in the annual lapse of sanity known as the Christmas City of the North Parade. No matter what the weather, snow, cold, rain, sleet, blizzard, heatwave, the parade happens. Most years the city crews arrive later in the evening to pick up the trash and chip free various parade watchers frozen to the sidewalk.

Now that I am back and plan to remain static until after Christmas, hopefully I'll drop you all a line more often. I actually know for sure there are 7 people who read my blog regularly. Sorry you checked it so often and found nothing to read.

Take care and later--

Rob

I actually finished the first half of the WEBC part of My Story and it should be posted soon. Now that I am back on a single track and should be able to 'leave for California' before the end of the year.

I haven't written for a couple of days because this week has been one of those kind of weeks. Nothing to write about. Nice to hear from you and I will reply to ALL my mail before the end of the week.

Rob

When you stop to think about it...was John Belushi really funny? Are there more fat people at Old Country Buffet than at a regular restaurant. Should there be a moritorium on the word, "hot"?

I watched the Vikings today but it wasn't as traumatic as it could have been if I really thought they might win. I stopped at a 7-11 and picked up a cheese Slurpee and a bag of Cheeto's and I was good to go. Has anyone watched that TV show, Vive Laughlin. This show is like some kind of nightmare. If you thought West Side Story was irritating when these gang members jete' down the gritty streets of New York, in THIS tv show they burst into song and jump on tables at the drop of a hat! Ten minutes into it I was ready to delete...but it was like a car wreck. Not only did I keep looking but I was actually hoping to see some dead bodies.

I went to see that Mark Wahlberg/Joaquin Phoenix movie and it was just o.k. Nothing great. The best thing was seeing that Joaquin had packed on more pounds then Marie Osmond. Yes, yes...I watch that Dancing With The Stars. I have no idea who these people are...Michael Clayton, btw, is pretty good even though George Clooney bugs the crap out of me. It's politics. Speaking of politics...I think libs are more likely to buy into conspiracy theories than normal people. (ha ha) I still think that George Kennedy had something to do with Marilyn Monroe's death. (You know those Kennedys)

Take care.. Rob

Taffy had a wonderful moment added on to yesterday's thread. Some of the rest of you leeches should add something also. Someone wrote and commented that I sound bored. I may be a little but not George Saunders bored. (If you want an explanation of that write me) I am not really bored. I am unstimulated. Every day used to be a competition. Days full of dreams and fears, attentions and slights, enemies and potential enemies. Now, I wake to a certainty that my day will be spent drifting on a calm sea and I fall to sleep having conquered nothing.

"For is it not true that the intensity of searching for something is merely a mask for our fear of actually finding it?"

James Webb wrote that in The Emperor's General. What's missing these days is the search. I'll have to consider taking some chances in the coming year. Without a fear of failure what is the joy in success. I thought of another quote. Dorothy Parker. "They sicken of the calm who knew the storm"

Feel free to write anytime. I don't mind what anyone writes about me as long as it isn't true.

Rob

Fog and mist. That is wonderful weather. If only it wasn't windy and cold! Do any of you have memories of perfectly wonderful days? Or wonderful moments? First of all...rules of the game. These perfect moments cannot include another human. If we don't make that elimination all this would be about would be a bunch of animal-lust moments. (I am not suggesting the lust involved animals but rather was animal-like) And there are the comments I've heard from new fathers (understandable). Since I am childless...a situation sometimes regretted, but in a more reasonable analysis accepted as incompatible with my deeply ingrown selfishness, I haven't experienced that particular wonderful moment.

I just have two that popped to mind. The first when I was about 8 years old. It was the day after school ended for summer vacation. I was up and out early, on my bike doing figure eights in the street. The feeling of complete and utter freedom washed over me and I've remembered that moment for over 50 years.

The second wonderful moment was more recent. I was walking along Market Street in San Francisco. I had just seen a showing of the restored My Fair Lady. Reveling in the sheer perfection of Audrey Hepburn (and Marni Nixon's voice)I was figuratively several inches in the air. (This is all soooo gay!) It was after midnight, the traffic was light, the air still as a grave and low clouds producing a soft rain, almost a mist. Into this silence I heard a train whistle in the south and it was a wonderful moment.

Those were certainly nicer to think about then the times in the lilac bushes with Spencer and Jennifer playing doctor. Even though I think I was chief surgeon. But come to think about it...those were pretty good times too.

I am working on the Story....nice to hear from you all. Sometimes I think I don't write just to get people to write and prod me.

Rob

I apologize for abandoning my website for a month. Or more. No excuse so I won't manufacture one. What have I been doing rather than taking care of business? Nothing. It sort of reminds me of my school days. I would read read read...books on history, books on this, books on that, fiction, non-fiction...whatever. However, the assignments of reading for school and actual grades...forget it. Perhaps, I just automatically rebel if something is expected of me. I am too lazy tonight to even do paragraph breaks and indents. Anyway..heads up. There will be more on the website before the end of October. And. Maybe a surprise or two. Anway, just so you know I haven't forgotten my responsibilites and before the semester is over I'll submit something or suffer the Incomplete on my report card. Take care...Rob

For those of you to whom it matters...have a nice week-end. For some of us, it is just another irritating break in the tedium of ennui-surrounded hours haunted by the thought we ought to be doing something.

But Lo! I AM doing something. I'll be gone for a few days, so don't expect any blogging. In the meantime, you might read this news story:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070921/ap_en_ot/quote_abuse

I will have to clean up my act or be scorned by "smart-ass" college students with "successful" websites!

Take care

"Rob"

My friend Mark wrote me that I should get political on this blog. He ended the mail with the phrase..."it could help". I suppose he refers to the very tepid number of responses. I spit on responses. Actually, I don't spit on responses. I like them. I also realize that the majority don't want to spend the time...aren't really interested in commenting on my comments...are pussies and send their comments to my email...never visit my site or blog and really don't know who I am. I LOVE politics. I also have some 'controversial' opinions. Let me list them: 1. OJ is getting a bum rap and I'm still not sure he did it! 2. If Nixon were alive and running for president, I'd vote for him...even though he was a little too liberal. 3. I think Joran Vandersloot is totally innocent. 4. I am uncomfortable around lesbians. 5. Life is NOT a bowl of cherries. 6. Male bonding makes me uncomfortable. 7. I utterly despise Keith Oberman. 8. Liberals in general and Democrats in particular are deluded, hateful, and probably mentally ill. 9. Money is the root of everything good (Thank-you Ayn) 10. All teenagers should be in jail. I leave you with a couple of joke forwards. btw...don't bother to expect me to post joke forwards that target George Bush or Republicans. You have to watch Letterman or Leno for those. While the 7 Dwarfs went to work, Snow White stayed home to prepare lunch. When she arrived at the mine with the lunch, she saw that there had been a terrible cave in. Tearfully, and fearing the worst. Snow White began calling out, hoping against hope that some of the dwarfs had survived. Hello, hello," she called. "Can anyone hear me? Hello" For quite a while there was no answer. Losing hope, Snow White called again, "Hello. Is anyone down there?" Just as she was about to give up all hope, there came a faint voice from deep in the mine. The voice said, "Vote for Hillary. Vote for Hillary." Snow White, somewhat relieved, screamed out, "Oh, thank God. Dopey is still alive!" Now THAT's funny!

Now I'm in trouble. Thanks Mark.

Rob

I was watching an old movie called..When Worlds Collide. I think. Not, I think I was watching a movie, but I think that was the title. I'm not THAT senile.

I noticed that they never went to the bathroom. This is a concern of mine. No wonder Jack Bauer on 24 is always killing and maiming. He hasn't been to the bathroom ALL DAY! (btw...I know why they killed off Milo. He made a movie that showed his weiner) One simple line in the dialogue would take care of this problem.

"We won't be aboard long enough to need chemical toilets." Or....

"I need to talk to Chloe!"

"Just a minute Jack...I'll get her. She just ran to the restroom."

See how easy it would be? Anyway, I was opining about this the other day and thus ensued a Pee discussion. And I'll continue it here. I'm not going to talk about recreational peeing. That is a whole DIFFERENT subject and I'm just don't want to think about it right now. But what about ...just regular peeing. When I used to come home to visit my brother and his family, I would wake in the night to use the facilities and after washing (rinsing) my hands would forget to turn off the faucet. They thought that strange. But...my sister-in-law commented that at LEAST I was a gentleman. Seriously, I cannot count the number of times I have seen people pee and walk out without washing. I understand the object is to avoid peeing on your fingers, but it seems a bit of hubris to assume that one can hold and aim and not have SOME contamination. I have had several movies ruined when I saw someone pee and exit without washing and THEN take the box of popcorn. It doesn't matter whether they ate it all by themselves or shared it...that popcorn was tainted!

The few times I have been drunk enough to barf, I have always prefered doing it in the sink. Mainly because the toilet ...well..you know. I don't like to drink water from the bathroom sink tap. Just one of my foibles.

Now there is the question of the toilet seat. Up or down. The woman have twisted this argument to put ALL the onus on the male. It has become OUR duty to make sure the seat is up and then replaced in the down position. Why? Why should the female just check before sitting? We live in such an entitlement society! And men are such pussies! (No irony intended) I have a brother who has solved the above dilemma by simply sitting to pee. !!! General George Patton would have slapped him silly.

Finally, a question. The older we get the more we have to go. I have an amazing bladder. Sometimes. I can go hours without even the twinkling of an urge. Drinking soda, riding in a car, standing next to a water fountain. Nothing. Then I drive up to my building. Get out of the car. Let myself in. Punch the elevator button. (Suddenly a twinge) The elevator approaches my floor. (I'm starting to do the pee dance) I walk quickly down the hall fumbling for my keys. (I am starting to sense droplets!!!) I run through the door fumbling at my pants. (No time to unbelt or unzip...just down right over the hips) Into the bathroom without a moment to spare. (Sometimes having to pinch!) Forget aim...it's like an Oklahoma gusher. ..... Now. Why was I perfectly fine until I was within 60 feet of the bathroom? It is one of life's mysteries.

So, if I'm at your house, I may be iffy on the aim, forget the proper seat position, and not sit down...but when I am finished, I will be a gentleman. You can be comfortable sharing my popcorn.

Rob

I got a great comment from a California fan*. He mentioned reading my website and my, I guess, off-beat take on life...as well as my food comentary. Putting the two together, I have an off-beat take on food. Life takes care of itself.

And so does death. The older you get the more funerals you go to. I haven't reached the point where I go to funerals for the lunch, but the lunch at the funeral yesterday was excellent. Saurkraut and sausage and Au Gratin potatos. The lovely, gentle, woman who lost her husband of 43 years much too soon, mentioned that he would have loved it. When we die we aren't measured by what we take with us because we don't take anything. Our life is measured by what we leave behind. I hope my send off is as warm and loving as the one yesterday. I wonder if I could get them to do hot beef sandwiches for me. Or pizza. Whatever it is, if it is a cold-cut tray, I'll come back and haunt someone.

Rob

*This is not a dismissive word for me. What a wonderful thing it is to be appreciated for what we do. And quite honestly, there are fans I like a lot better than some friends and certainly better than some family.

Before I write ANYTHING, I will admit I am a 'grandpa' driver. I hate having to drive and wish I lived more regularly in cities where cars are not a necessity. In San Francisco most everyone rides mass transit. In the Twin Cities at least a cross-section of society rides buses and light rail. In Duluth the only people on the bus are teens, seniors, recent DWI's, and retarded people. I avoid the bus.

I have lived all over the place and EVERY area either brags at having the BEST drivers or the WORSE drivers. I guess it depends on what people find bragable. I know people in Northern Minnesota are proud of cold bad records and mosquitos. I have heard San Franciscans brag about the number of people they have seen defecating on the sidewalk. It's like Rochester, Minnesota. Sure it has some great hospitals but the place is full of sick people.

Anyway. When a driver does a dumb-ass move, why do they wave at you? That's my whole rant.

Rob

I was on the first Northwest Airlines plane out of Duluth the Saturday after 9/11/01. The airport concourses in Minneapolis were like a mausoleum. I'm not a good flyer at any time but this flight from Mpls/St.Paul to San Francisco was worse than ever before. It may seem like a tired joke, but at least 10 people on the plane were obvious Arabs. Yikes!

There was a lot of thinking going on during that flight. In spite of the committment I had for a show that fall, I did what I have done so many times in my life. For better or worse, I made a decision...without much deliberation...and just DID it.

During the visit home, I met my nephew Sean's baby son..my great nephew...Braydon. On that plane I decided I didn't want to be a twice a year uncle. Sometimes life is like stew. You add a little of this and a little of that and...bing! Stew! Here the fragility of life, a little innocent baby, a big and dirty city, and that was it. I moved most of my life to Minnesota that December.

I don't regret it.

Rob

For those of you keeping score...if I reply to someone's reply in a previous blog, does that count?

Do you realize how hard it is for me not to delve into my political opinions here? It has taken every bit of my moral fiber...and anyone familiar with my morals, knows I could use a little more fiber. It has gotten to the point that there can be no political discourse because the 'other side' is seriously mentally ill. There is a hatred and vitriol that is so incredibly vicious, it would be funny if the consequences of it weren't so serious. At times I just have to fall back on my mother's solution and light a candle for them. In my case, the candle won't be for the haters but for the hate-ee's.

Well that's it. I'm going to a football game tonight and hope it isn't too cold. Hope your week-end is as low-key as mine. Take care...

"...you gotta be a football hero..to get along with the beautiful..."

Rob

Didn't get to the fair and enough said about that. Television sucks and enough said about that. I can only go to so many movies. It seems like I go to them all and since my brother says there has never been a movie I didn't like, I guess you can just assume that I like it...gave it between zero and five stars and enough said about that.

I am a political junky. A difference between me an most of those I vehemently disagree with is: I can be friends with a liberal.

There is the big controversy about abortion and exactly when life begins...is it at conception, or birth, or when the fetus goes to first grade? No controversy with me. Life began (again) tonight with the return of regular-season football.

I have three audiences. 1. Before the Twin Cities people 2. Twin Cities people 3. West Coast People. There is also a sub-group of West Coast people, I call the San Francisco people. So, no matter what I write about I can count on boring 2/3's of the readers.

I keep getting mail from peeps asking if I know where so-and-so is? Sometimes I do. Most of the time, I don't. I figure over the years I worked with hundreds of people and I only remember 7 of them. Well, I'm exagerating. It's actually, only 4. Moon keeps sending me mail so I won't forget him. His mail usually starts with..."It's Moon. remember me?" Moon's job at FM104 was show producer and visiting me in psych wards. Anyway, I'll give him a plug. Moon's a singer and he has a show in Modesto at the Mustang. The Mustang is a gay-friendly bar. LOL. So, anyway...go see him.

Another Centralvallian I hear from is Kenny Roberts. He has been trying to figure out how to comment on my blogs for about 3 months. Funny, I worked with him at K093 and have known him for years and never knew he was retarded.

The only other semi-regular from those days is the evil Gary DeMaroney. Dick Cheney is more beloved that Gary DeMaroney. Gary came to California when I moved there and I loaded his stuff in my moving truck. I'll never forgive him for moving a shelf made of boards and bricks! Now, he has his own stations in Southern Cal and with luck is making enough money to cover his industrial-strength Rogaine bill.

Pretty lame isn't it? The rest are fans/friends! And with at least two of them, my mail goes into 'Junk'.

Well...if I haven't burned enough bridges.....

"...don't go changin'...try to please me..."

Rob

Well, well! Someone suggested I better put something on the web-site (and they didn't mean blog) before I went to the Fair, because otherwise, nothing would happen until September. If you check the main-site you will see I have gotten in just under the deadline. The KSTP story continues and I wrap up Green Bay.

My usual day to State Fair it is the first Monday. Not because it is Senior Citizen day, but because that's when my family goes and I go when they go. While they were eating cheese curds and cream puffs, I can only hope a bucket of cookies makes it north. Maybe I'll go on Labor Day. Or not. That's too far ahead to plan. Damn, I love the fair and I am seriously depressed I wasn't there today.

Has everyone seen Superbad? I love that movie. It's just the sophomoric humor that makes me laugh my ass off. Don't take anyone to see it who is easily offended. It is very offensive. There are more offensive movies though. Deuce Bigelow. Probably more offensive. Neither of the Deuce movies are nearly as offensive as Ocean's 13. Or 12. Since it has been so long since I graced my blog with content, if you like a non-stop chase movie then you'll like the Bourne Ultimatum. The critics just hated the remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers but it wasn't totally horrible. I give it 2 stars. Tomorrow (Tuesday) I'm going to see the Mormons massacre the Christians. Of maybe Jet Li massacre the Chinese. This will be interesting because Jet Li has retired from those 'defy-the-laws-of-physics-marshal-arts-movies' and is just doing 'action movies' now. The only problem with going to see three or four movies in one week is popcorn consumption. At least I order it plain.

All summer I have experienced a strange ennui. At the same time there is a tension, a feeling that I am not doing something that I should be doing. I should start drinking. When I was killing time in San Francisco I loved to go to the library and browse through the old copies of Time or Life magazine. From the 30's. 40's. What was considered interesting is interesting but the ads are fascinating. The railroad companies touted the luxury of travel by train. Did people really dress up in suits, ties, and dresses and sip adult beverages in the club car? And what could be finer than dinner in the diner?...damn! One product was advertised more than any other. Laxatives. At least every other page..a laxative ad. Brands of laxatives totally strange to me. I can only come to one conclusion. People in the 30's were pretty plugged up. Maybe THAT explains Hitler. I know, as a child, I got cod liver oil. The bottle was in the fridge and a heaping teaspoon (can cod liver oil heap?) was shoved into my mouth several times a week. As I remember, I felt pretty good in those days so maybe I should start a cod liver oil regimen. If it works...I'll be at the Fair next year for sure.

I hope you enjoy my scrawling and give me some feedback. I'm an actor and we need some applause...or an 'atta-boy'. Applause is like giving an enema to a dead man. It may not help...but it sure can't hurt. And if that doesn't work try a laxative. Or cod liver oil.

“....workin' in the coal mine going down down down....”

Rob

I have decided that tomorrow I am going to begin the week out properly and add a proper blog.

Rob

I really and honestly plan on writing some blog tomorrow and posting My Story chapters this week. Really. btw....You HAVE to go see the movie STARDUST! I give it 5 stars or a 9.5 ratting out of 10!!!

Later--

Rob

I think I have talking disease. I LOVE to yak. Yak Yak Yak! When you live alone, it is quite possible to go a full day or two without uttering a single word. Unless you are talking to yourself. They say that it is ok to talk to yourself as long as you don't answer. That's sorta stupid.

On of my little Grand nephews...the one we call Lilo....asked me last week why I'm always yakking. At least he wasn't like Moon who told me he 'hated my damn stories'. For those of you, unfamiliar with the Central Valley portion of My Life, Moon was the producer and morning crew member of my morning show. There was quite a crew in California. Besides Moon, there was Gary DeMaroney, Marco, and Tony. At least that was the 'paid' gang toward the end of my run. I liked everbody except Gary. Nobody liked Gary. In fact...we all hated him. If it weren't for Gary DeMaroney we would have hit the big time. We would have been champ! (Joke)

Now, the reason I think I talk to much, when I get the chance, is because a few hours later, that same little Lilo interupted me in mid-sentence, holding up his hand for me to stop,saying, "Put it on pause!"

Since it has been so long since I wrote, I have had dozens of ideas for wonderful blogs....but now I am drawing a blank. I dropped some email to some friends before coming here and I guess I just used up all the creativety I have....so..I'll try again tomorrow.

Take care!

Rob

It's late and I'm tired. I promised a daily blog for a week and that wasn't a promise....that was a threat!

That made me remember where I heard that saying mixed up like that. Instead of .."that's not a threat...that's a promise"...The reverse. I heard a lesbian girl's gym teacher yell that at a student. Do lesbian and Girl's gym teacher sorta go together like a horse and carriage? Hamburger and frenchfries? Peanut Butter & Jam? Julia & Childe?

Indeed it IS late and I'm either tired or high. Actually, I have to quit the crack. That sound's dirty. Speaking of crack, when I worked at K101 we made a lot of cracks that made fun of people's physical unfortunates. Like..She's so fat....! Or...my wife is so frigid?...At 104 in Modesto we had a joke morning and I can't remember ONE joke ever actually getting broadcast without a bleep or six. We might have labored under the rules of a little bit of political correctness, but it was obvious our audience didn't. The public affairs director at K101 hated what she called ethnic jokes but that included fat jokes and I'm not sure if fat is an ethnicity. If it is I want to march in that parade. Actually, it would be a horrible parade cause everyone in it would be out of breath and near collapse. And sweating. San Francisco had lots of parades and they all weren't very good. Of course there is the Gay Parade. Terry Gangstad was my production director (a regular genius) in Tacoma and in Modesto. He and his wife accompanied me to a SF Pride Parade and it was pretty heady stuff for a boy from Boise. Especially because there was a chubby guy standing next to us who was shaking his ring of keys at good looking paraders. Andway, like the Fat Parade, the Gay Parade isn't really any good cuz nobody marches..they just swish. And the Chinese parade isn't any good because everyone in it just pushes and shoves to get to the head of the line. The Irish parade isn't any good because of al the vomit covering the parade route and the Polish parade isn't any good because they always forget the route. The German parade isn't any good because if you don't watch it they knock on your door and drag you out and FORCE you to watch it. The Japanese parade isn't any good because they just sort of sneak down the street hiding behind bushes and magazine racks. I could go on and on....There is the parade where everyone runs down the street carrying a TV and the parade where no one is in it cuz they all call in sick...and on and on and on. This kind of humor is so much fun. I laugh like a fool at politically incorrect crap. It is another one of those secret pleasures like mixing Green Giant Niblet Corn with gravy and mashed potatoes. The truth is... without political incorrectness I would not have had a career.

Rob (Dumb Swede)

The thunderclouds took over the sky this morning at about 7am and the rain came down moments later. At eleven, when I drove to my brother's home, it was still raining. I sat in his yard with a golf umbrella, pelted by rain and immersed in the latest Harry Potter. Yes, my friend, Moon, I have read them all and seen all the movies. When the 3rd book in the series came out I was as scornful as many. I commented to someone..."I don't do children's books." How wrong I was. In one night I took my god-daughter and her two friends to see NSYNC and started reading the first book. Over the next week I read all three and you know the rest of the story. For me, they are a little secret pleasure like canned corned beef sandwiches, Dots, and canned asparagus.

When I think of rain, though, I can't help but think of my 3 plus years in Tacoma/Seattle. When people asked how I could tolerate that rain, I remarked that at least I didn't have to shovel it. Harold Greenberg, the much referenced early GM at KDWB (when I was hired) was running the AM/FM combo in Seattle/Tacoma. The FM pumped out money riding the 'beautiful music' madness. The AM remembered the glory days and with finger nails vainly holding to the edge of the precipice tried not to drop off the map. I have much of My Story to tell about that time in Washington State, but that is yet to come in My Story. I hope we all last. What brings KTAC and Harold to mind is a comment he made on the day I flew in from San Francisco to case the joint. It was raining. In spite of the April shower that was supposed to bring the flowers that bloom in May...doo di doo doo dah di doo di doo doo....I'm SINGGGGGGGING in the RAAAAIN..just SINGGGGGGin' in the rain...what a.........where was I?

A couple of weeks later the movers picked up my stuff, I climbed into Ken Copper's old classic (another way of say..heap) and hopped on on Interstate 5; the car packed to the rafters (it was THAT old) and my dear cat Harve Tooky and my wonderful dog, Bozo crammed on top of it all. At 3am the next morning, in a rainstorm we arrived in Tacoma. Ken, my morning partner from K101 was putting his career at risk by coming along to do mornings in the Northwest. KTAC got a lot better than it deserved. The next day it was still raining. The next day it was still raining. I could keep typing that sentence or maybe I'll just copy and paste. The next day it was still raining. The next day it was still raining. ....etc etc. (I stole the last part from Yul Brynner) I kept hearing rumors of this big former volcano that WASN'T named after Grace Kelly's husband but WAS a dorment volcano that hovered over both Tacoma and Seattle. I didn't see it because..well...er...um..well, it was raining. The next day it was still raining.....

To prevent this from become a shaggy dog joke (THAT reminded me of my wonderful dog Bozo..little did I know I would bury him in a forest in that wet and gloomy place)...anyway....It rained and/or was solidly cloudy for 68 days. I began to suspect that there was no volcano. It was all a big lie told by the Pullayup Indians. But driving along Puget Sound on the 69th day in Tacoma...I just about crapped my pants!

Sometimes my writing has the magical quality of Truman Capote, don't you think? Yes! There was this HUGE mountain. It really DID hover over the city. It wasn't a lie. (Now days the Pullayup Indians are telling people their slot machines are loose...yah, right!)

It wasn't all work and no play. While in San Francisco, I used the magic of video-tape to record Judge Wapner every day and I would relax and unwind watching him brow-beat the litigants while I ate my dinner. I used to wish that Rusty would draw his gun and shoot Doug Lwellyn between the eyes..but it didn't happen. In Tacoma, I came home every night to my recording of PTL. Jim Baker and Tammy Faye and their daily trials and tribulations to build a Christian Theme Park, Kevin's House, and all the other stuff was better than any soap opera. I don't know what George Bush saw when he looked into Vladamir Putin's eyes...or was that his soul? Come to think of it..looking into Vlad's eyes sounds kinda gay. He may be a lot of things, but I don't think GB is gay. Al Gore is. Anyway, I looked into Jim and Tammy's eyes and I don't think Jim and Tammy were out-and-out scam artists. All that money just was too much for them and temptation even came to our Lord. I was sorry to hear Tammy Faye died. I am pretty sure she's in heavan now. It may be theologically unsound but on the other side of that great big mountain I like to think my Mom & Dad are there too. And my Gram. And Bozo and Harve. And Tammy Faye.

Rob

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

I AM SORRY!
I don't have any real excuse for my lack of content on this blog. There is a little teeny weeny excuse for the lack of new contact on the My Story section. You want my alibis?

My best friend and webmaster has moved from California to Chicago. This is causing a slight delay in posting the Story Updates. That's the story and I'm sticking to it. No reason why we couldn't have been more diligent a month ago except the fact that I am a poor example of a human being.

This blog just slips my mind. It isn't that I'm not around the computer since on some days I spend hours here. I have a list of 'gonna-write-them-back-tomorrows' and the list keeps getting bigger.

Here is my promise. I shall write, meaningful blogs, (not just apologies and mindless daily meanderings) AND not miss one day for a week. I shall also catch up on my email, answering what needs to be answered, and initiating contact with those friends I have lately ignored.

Hope you are all swell. Did I tell you I liked Harry Potter? Did I mention that the Park Point Beaches in Duluth on a warm sunny day are as good as any beach in the world? Did I tell you that injuries to one's shoulder rotator can hurt like hell?

Rob

I woke this morning to a veritable tsunami of responses to my latest movie and restaurant reviews. It still amazes me there are so many girly-men readers who prefer to make their comments via email. Come on! Sign up! Let the world in on the way your mind works!

Today I plan to watch a LOT of television. I finally broke down and bought a surround-sound system to go with my HDTV and by patiently following the install directions, having an emotional break-down, consulting (and verbally abusing) my friend, Mike, got it totally installed by midnight. It sounds spectacular. If you already have one, what else is new? To test out the total package I watched the last hour of October Sky...a feel-good Jake Gylenhall (sic) movie from a few years ago. I cried like a baby. I know BLSett would rather go surfing on an ocean of King Kong Bundy's leotard chowder than watch that movie, but along with Field Of Dreams and Hearts & Souls, I am guaranteed copious tears before they end.

So, back to the email. Someone wrote me complaining because I have written in My Story so seldomly, lately, and seem to be directing all my efforts to this blog. Referencing the exchanges about Teabags and Tossed Salad she wrote that my blog is 'pretty sophomoric'. That sorta sums up my life. I can handle any sort of Donkey Punch that comes my way. Remember, I was told by a 'consultant' in San Francisco that my show was inane. Later, my morning show was called ...puerile. Some asshole in Buffalo turned me down for a job because he said I had a speech impediment. Thath ridulouth! Actually, he said I stuttered.

So, this is my blog and knowing that I am inane, sophomoric, and p-p-p-puerile doesn't faze me because I am tough. Hey....I punched a nun!

Rob

Are you working on the fourth? Radio is a cruel master when it comes to week-ends and holidays. How many Christmas Eves and Christmas days I spent at some radio station would be too depressing to contemplate. When, eventually, I had control of the scheduling pen, I remembered those ruined holidays and did my best to accomodate people. But, it was a futile gesture because if the full-time staff didn't work, the part-time staff did. Anyway, in memory of all of those who toiled on the 4th and all those who WILL toil this year on the 4th, tomorrow, I shall do absolutely nothing.

"War...what is it good for?" Remember that song? Good song...stupid words.

Since last I blogged I haven't done much. Saw one of the worst movies I have ever seen. Ocean's 13. They should be ashamed. George Clooney owes me $5.50. To show the degree I am living la dolce vita...I also went to see Nancy Drew. Now! THAT was a good movie!

When I lived in California, I was minutes away from some of the reputedly greatest Mexican restaurants in the country. I went to dozens of different ones and never found that really great one. In Modesto, I went with a bunch of theater cronies for lunch and that Mexican restaurant was really very good...until toward the end of the meal when a rather bold la cucharacha decided to get from point A to point B by scooting across my plate of enchiladas. I understand that those little creatures are almost impossible to totally emliminate out west..BUT...I am sure he wasn't wearing little roach boots so I assume he barefooted it through my food. I suppose I could have just eaten the remaining food on each side of his (assuming it was a male) path, but suddenly my appetite went the way of Tara, Twelve Oaks, and that special Antebellum way of life.* My search for a really good Mexican restaurant that will satisfy me as well as my good friend of Mexican heritage, Sal. He laughs with ill-concealed legal-immigrant scorn at my suggestions. If I can persuade him to Minnesota for the state fair, we may have to make the trek to Burnsville. (That includes crossing the Minnesota River and Sal will be right at home) On Highway 13 is the Mexican restaurant, El Oro.

Wow!

My nephew recommended it And persuaded me to order the Quesadilla Fajita. I was whacked! It was damn good. Throwing caution to the wind (and because I foolishly used some hot sauce that exceeded even my iron-cast pallate) I washed it down with a fine Bohemia beer. (A Mexican beer that a couple of years in a row won Best Beer In The World) Because I am now such a pussy, that beer got me a little drunk and I had to recline in the backseat of the car rather than spend oodles of money at TJ Max. One beer! Oh my! Anyway...on my restaurant eating scale of 1-10, I give lunch at El Oro an easy and well deserved 8. They may be happy but perhaps not since I usually give Taco Bell a solid 7.5!

Hope your holidays are great and your summer is swell...

Rob

* an obscure reference to the movie, Gone With The Wind.

Yesterday, while sitting by the window, alternately reading and watching the thunderclouds roll in, the phone rang. It was my nephew, calling from southern Minnesota asking if we got the Jerry Springer Show. I turned on the TV and saw most of the video clip they were playing.

Like Dante, I have seen the depths of hell!

A friend of mine in California (soon to be in Illlinois) has the theory that all our vices are progressive. He must have heard this from some preacher. The theory is that each little vice creates the desire for another little vice. Say you are addicted to ice cream. First, you have a little bowl while you watch Ellen. Next thing you are having another bowl during Oprah. Then eventually another during Jeopardy. Soon, you aren't even using the bowl, but just eating it right out of the carton. Sure, you started with Ben & Jerry's...but then it's Hagen Daz, from pints to quarts to half-gallons. Eventually, you are eating it straight from the plastic gallon container with the handy metal carrying handle. Your days become tormented as you try to assuage the gnawing desire with fudgecicles and push-ups. Soon, they know you by first name at Cold Stone and make you pay in advance. You end up on the television show Intervention, but of course it doesn't take and you leave re-hab early and last you were heard from you were rummaging through a trash can outside a Dairy Queen.

Hollywood has gotten rich by making comedies that cater to our desire to laugh at the misfortunes of others. The man and the banana peel comes to mind. And much to my shame, I sat by the window, with the thunderclouds rolling in, a discarded book on my lap, watching the worst bit of television I have ever seen. And laughed my ass off.

I hesitate to even describe it. Imagine a congenitally deformed woman with stumps ending above the elbow and above the knee trying to eat spaghetti, potato chips, and brush her teeth. As my friend Sal would say..."That's just wrong!"

My nephew said he was embarassed to be watching and ashamed to be laughing. Of course, HE was the one who called ME. I didn't know whether to take a shower or get down on my knees and pray.

Add this sorry episode to my list of vices. If things progress according to theory, I will soon be taking up deer hunting (Bambi's mom!), puppy-baseball (dog is the ball), and TIVOing Maury.(one of those 12 guys IS the father!)

...on my way to do the Stations, I remain....

Rob

Yesterday we went to the Land Of The Loon Festival in Virginia. (Named because all the girls are virginians) This is becomeing a tradition. We went last year. It was good to get out of Duluth because it is Grandma's Marathon week-end and about 60,000 people show up and crowd the place. You can't get a seat at the House Of Pancakes or Denny's for any amount of money. (Actually, there isn't either a IHOP or Denny's in Duluth but I used them as a universal reference because you might not recognize the humour (spelled that way because I WAS in England last month) if I had written Perkins or OCB)

If you have a desparate need for a "Welcome to our Home" sign, or a candle holder made out of barbwire, or a plaque that says, "Sit Down and Fart A While"...then, the Loon Festival is for you! It isn't that I didn't spend any money...I spent a bundle. Five dollars for Cheese cruds...oops...typo....supposed to be Cheese curds, but now that I think of the effect on my arteries, cheese cruds is appropriate. Had some onion rings...started to hear a sound like a rubber-band stretching coming from inside my chest...and a bit later a festival made nachos grande. Ignoring the shooting pain in my left arm I managed to find room for a home-made ice-cream-dipped-in-chocolate-the-size-of-a-dinner-plate and a couple of diet Cokes and half a baby aspirin.

My cardio-vascular surgeon and God willing, I plan on being at the Loon Festival next year too and I WILL find the Italian Sausage with peppers, onions, and mozarella booth. My brother has agreed to carry the paddles for the heart resuscitation machine. Hope your summer is as fun as mine is and let me know if there are other good festivals in my future. My goal is to eat Minnesota State Fair food for every meal.

btw-I liked the Soprano ending.

Rob

Benji's sister on So You Think You Can Dance was surprised when she realized she was in the top 20. She said, "Shut the front door...". I guess that is the Mormon way of saying, "Shut the fuck up." I hope she loses just because of it. And to make matters worse, now friends and relatives are all saying...."shut the front door".

Sunday afternoon I was in Glencoe for the parade. It was a pretty good parade for a little town of 4,000+ people. There is something wierd going on tho...the waving. Instead of the various Princess' and Queens (you'd think this was the San Francisco Gay Pride Parade!!!) waving like, well, Princess' and Queens with their elbow bent at 90 degrees and forearm and hand perpendicular, the fingers together rotating about 180 degrees like a lighthouse beacon...they were moving their arms back and forth horizontally like they were using Pledge on a rather high table. Is that some sort of ergonomic thing? Whatever--its fucked up and they should get back to waving like a self respecting Queen. ("Oh girl!") The band from Oswego was great fun. Reminded me of marching in parades as a teenager.

In the Twin Cities in the 70's we didn't have Taco Bell. We had Zapata's. I guess the Mexicans were offended by a fast-food Mexican joint named after Emillio Zapata...one of their national heroes (Killer & Bandit that he was...) so they changed the name to Zantigo. Whatever.....it was an early-day Taco Bell. I was mentioning how much I hated driving in the Twin Cities and how it must be a sign of old age because I didn't even think about it 30 years ago. I told my nephew that I used to drive down I94, steering with my knees while I sauced my taco. He said that sounded perverted. Now that I think about it..it was. In the 'olden days' we used to have them cut our whopper in half. Shut the front door! It is sounding perverted again.

I am just sitting here trying to figure out what politician I hate the most...

btw...Oceans 13 sucks big-time!

Rob

It has been a while since I spend much time on Hennepin Avenue. Yesterday, I left the cold and rain of Northern Minnesota with a sweater and rain-coat, for the hot and humid Twin Cities. The Shindlers on the corner of Hennepin and 6th has been replaced by Borders. I can remember buying things there at one in the morning and Old Man Shindler himself would wait on me. Didn't see Moby Dicks, the Mann Theater, the Nankin, the Cafe Di Napoli, or Plantation Pancakes. Still, it felt the same. Even though, Dayton's is Macy's it just seems right to have a big department store on that corner of 7th & Nicolett.

I had lunch with a couple of guys from my distant past. Pat McKay & Denny Carpenter, both unduly influenced by the 'evil one'. I wish we had more time for, as Tony Soprano says, the worst type of conversation; the ones that start with.."I remember....".I have a list of about 25 (minimum)other people I really wan to meet for some of that "I remember.." drivel and lunch.

If you live in California and are part of THAT part of my life, I am sort of leaving you in the dust..but I sure wonder what people miss about Downtown Minneapolis. If you can't play that game, maybe what you miss about ...where ever..? btw...next week watch for more My Story, More San Francisco Story, and more pictures!!!

Maybe....

Rob

You have to look back on the last month and admit it wasn't very nice. Last year we had spectacular spring weather in Minnesota, but this year...it sucked. When I was in Tacoma I went to lots of Tacoma Tigers baseball...in Modesto I attended most of the local farm team baseball games..the Modesto A's...can you imagine the goofs in that city changed the name to the Modesto Nuts?

WHAT WERE THEY THINKING?

Anyway...last year I took in a bunch of Duluth Huskies baseball. There is just nothing like spending a balmy evening watching baseball, eating hotdogs, and relaxing. Major league baseball ruined that experience by prices that compete with Grand Opera. Anyway...the first week-end of Huskies baseball and cloudy, cold and rainy. Like I said...the weather sucks.

One of my best friends is preparing for a career move from California to Chicago. I am actually looking forward to some of those mid-January phone calls where he moans:

WHAT WAS I THINKING?

Anyone watching So You Think You Can Dance? How come the fat guys who try out for the show are all so gay? I thought when you were gay you were svelt, urbane, and politically aware? And how come so many of the fat women who try out for the show look like they hang around with fat gay guys?

And btw....I get so much mail commenting on my scribblings but so few posts here. I know it is new and the 'word' must get around....but what a bunch of pussies...afraid to add your two cents worth. Governor Arnold know you are girly-men and you are all probably just looking for a fat dancer to hang around with....

Take care

Rob

Another example of man interferring with nature. Whales in the Delta. Did those two whales get all the way to the delta or did they just hang around the Sacramento River? I don't know the answer because after seeing the swimming, breaching,and blowing a dozen times, I tuned out the story. Do I sound unsympathetic? I hear constantly about all the poor and hungry people in California and those whales would have made a whole crapload of taco meat. Sorry if that isn't P.C. I'll rephrase it: Those whales would have made a whole crapload of goulash.

First on my list of complaints (well-reasoned complaints): Why so much consternation about these whales? It isn't that it happens a lot. There must be thousands of fish who make the same mistake but because they are small and keep it to themselves, nobody cares. The animal 'rights' people didn't hesitate to wish for the death of the baby polar bear in Germany. Is size really THAT important? But most of all, I think our chickens have come home to roost, as my grandmother used to say. Actually, she said it in Swedish and we pointed at her, laughed like hell, told her to go back to Stockholm, gave her some herring and got back to Leave It To Beaver. ("Ward...you were pretty hard on the beaver last night!")

When I spent ALL my time in California, another hapless sea-mammal wandered into the San Francisco Bay, Sacramento River system and got 'lost'. This hapless spouter was actually looking for a gay bar in Stockton where they had less attitude than the ones in San Francisco. At some point, without the help of cable news, Humphrey (what were his parents thinking when they named a gay whale Humphrey?) finally was helped to find the Golden Gay..er Gate Bridge and made it back to the Pacific. And that is where that stupid whale spread his dumb genes into the Whale Pool and as my grandmother said, "God morgan. Taler du engelska?" Someone else said..the whales have come home to roost. Yes, Humphrey is probably the great-grandfather of a bunch of stupid whales, two of which we've heard about for the last week. And now, those whales have been helped back to the ocean to replicate themselves and damage the gene pool. Survival of the fitness be damned! Darwin is rolling over in his grave. And the poor eat bean tacos!

Don't take me too seriously (just a little). How can you have any respect for someone who likes Velveeta, Saltines & Peanut butter, and canned asparagus!

Rob

I was talking to someone this afternoon after seeing the movie Waitress...(Not bad-another one of those how horrible can men make a woman's life movies)...and I was telling another one of my interminable stories...this one about something that happened to me in California. I realized that he had no connection to my life in CA. I did some of my best radio in CA and yet, there are hundreds, perhaps thousands, who have no understanding of what I did there. Anyone in the Twin Cities of Mps/St. Paul remembers the Rob Sherwood of KDWB & U100. They have no idea what I did on mornings in the west. And conversely, those out west can't even imagine the teen-bopper pleasing 'screamer' who haunted WeeGee, Channel 63, RightonsupaU, and The Music Station for 11 years.

If I haven't mentioned this before, the best time I had on the radio were a few of the years toward the end of career doing mornings in the CA central valley. Even though I enjoyed it, I suffered some ass-holes. (If you go to THEIR blog THEY mention the morning guy who was a REAL asshole) Even though, I claim that time period as my favorite, everything that happened before was the prologue and as important to the final mix as room-temperature butter and sifted flour are to a good cake.

I just wonder about the current broadcasters. Is everything different, but really still the same? Does anybody dream anymore? Are their young broadcasters, today, with the same dreams and drive we see on the reality competition TV shows like American Idol, Think You Can Dance or that Film Directors one?...Or the haircutting one on Bravo and the cooking ones on Bravo and with that asshole British guy? Just wondering late on Saturday night... Rob

I am beaten down. I can't ignore you anymore. So, at my peril. Taking the lackluster career and gutter-tossed reputation, lightly, I throw open this blog to your comments.

Feel free to add your thoughts or stimulate new threads. If I find it offensive, I'll delete it. If you read the blogs and comments quickly, you may see the deletions before they suffer my delete key. Feel free to comment at will and I would enjoy most, hearing from those of you still toiling in the broadcasting grapeyards. I often wonder if it is really bad or am I just another geezer bemoaning the fact that everything was better in the 'old days'.

Now that I've taken this dangerous step...at least will before the night is out...there will most likely be a deep and echoing silence from robsherwood.com bloggers who have nothing to say.

Saw Spiderman 3 today. Why the complaints. I thought is was excellent. Much better than number 2 if you want my opinion. Wait a minute. That didn't sound right. It was better than the second Spiderman movie...not necessarily better than number 2. Of course it was better than number 2. Has anyone ever tried the apricot Cliff Bar? Very good. Especially, washed down with the drink of the gods...Diet Mountain Dew. Have I ever told you that my younger brother is the best cook in our family? He proved it again on Sunday. My mother was a wonderful cook...in my memory...but, in reality she had as many misses as hits and anything unfortunate could always be fixed with melted butter.

I look forward to some dialogue and whether I get it or not...I shall continue.

"...I'm gonna sit right down and write myself a letter....."

Rob

Well, I awoke at 3:30am. How long is this going to last? Tired to the point of collapse at 7pm and ready to work in the garden at 4am.

While I was gone my in-mail boxes filled to overflowing. Some of the messages were actually from real people. Since just about everybody I know, I met through work, I have lots of fans who became friends. Forwards can be entertaining, but I most enjoy the pix that tell their stories. Anyone who listened to the morning show at KHOP will remember 'VIRGINIA'. She was 'contest adept' but also a good friend. That she moved to CA from "Ory-gone" it was always a thrill to announce she was from the BEAVER state. (Those were most innocent times...) Virginia mailed me an album of grandchildren pictures and I almost cried. Come to think of it, this was a woman who was going to make a great..GREAT...grandma, and that was evident even 20 years ago.

Then there is Cindi. One of the quintessential teeny-bopper KDWB fans from Robbinsdale High School. Somehow she got the nick-name Whoopie Woman! At some point she moved to CA and ended up permanently in the Amador Valley between the Coastal Mountain range and the Diablo range. We never seem to connect for a visit but we chat often and it is another friendship of note...now approaching 40 years!

A dozen years later my station in Tacoma/Seattle has a softball team and a relatively crazy listener (ask her kids...) comes to a game and begins a friendship that has lasted for decades. I love to ride the train and I took her daughters on a train trip to Portland to visit the zoo (in a rain storm) and hang out. Now, the daughters are grown, Claudia is also a grandma and I get to see the kids weekly, thanks to the internet.

There are also the friends with whom I've lost touch. I am never really sure why that happens but inspite of the distance and lack of contact, the memories are strong and good.

So, I just got back from a week or so, visiting my friend Tom. He sat alone in the rain at the Minnesota State Fair watching my show in 1972, I was Best Man at his wedding in 1979 and saw his youngest son married last week in England. Wow! I am sort of lucky.

I'm lucky to have so little malice in my life. If you are reading this, I don't believe in 'former friends'. We may never hook up but I probably think of you often. I have lots of time to think about stuff.

"...that's life..." Rob

Before I write anything: it wouldn't be so bad if I could just be beamed somewhere. Seven hours on an airplane! I am hard pressed to think of anywhere I'm so anxious to visit, I would gladly suffer the airplane trip. But!!!!...if only the train system of Britain were available to me here. Now...that I could enjoy.

You ever watch a British movie from the 50's? There is something about them that isn't quite right. It's like eating pizza in Italy. You know it's pizza but (in spite of the fact it is authentic) it isn't quite right. Foreign cars. Not the ones made today for the U.S. market but the ones made for the foreign markets. They aren't just right. Back to the Brit movies. Some are very good (most of the really good British movies were made in Hollywood) but the music isn't right, the lighting is different, the editing ..well, it just isn't quite right. When I went to the U.K. a couple of weeks ago, (the first time in 25 years) I expected the England that wasn't quite right to be gone. I was ready for things like the McDonalds in St. Peterburg, or a standard american style mall in Spain. I was ready to see a British version of America. One thing that will always save the U.K. from total capitulation is driving on the left. It just doesn't look right.

Imagine my delight, after a horrible airplane ride, a frazzled right to King Cross RR Station and a delightful train trip to Darlington, I found out I was spending the week in the British village of all those wonderful U.S. made British movies. I mentioned to a young man named Simon that Richmond (pop. about 8,000)so authentically British I expected Margaret Rutherford to walk down the street. He said, "Who's Margaret Rutherford?" and I went to McDonalds.

I am glad to be back and sorry I didn't blog during my trip but I was computer deprived and it didn't bother me. Miss Marple and I had a murder to solve. I plan to up-date the stories this week and have a note-book full of blog topics to bore you with....also starting this week (I'll let you know) you may answer my blogs as you desire. Cross your fingers everyone behaves.

"...a foggy day...in London Town..." Rob