Back in the 60’s…

For the first time in a long time I am afraid. I am not more afraid than I am pissed off. Back in the 60’s we protested and the cops bloodied us. The whole world is watching we chanted. Chicago. Washington. We tried to tell the world that the powers that be were sick corrupt and full of shit. Was it all in vain? Look at where where we are now. Right back where we started from it seems. Maybe worse.

Clearly a news photographer, rousted by the…God I hate to say it…The Pigs.

This is all gonna end in tears. But by the time we have another Kent State on on our hands, it will be too late.

Photographer Gets Pummeled

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Take A ride on “Old Sparky”

What is it that catches my eye when I see a picture of “the chair”? Is it morbid fascination? There but for the grace of God go I? Ride the lighting? Old Sparky? Gruesome Gertie. Wikipedia lists a few more electric chair names: Sizzlin’ Sally, Old Smokey, Yellow Mama.

Nobody killed more people, with more regret, than Lewis E. Lawes.

That, by God is a lead.

The warden of the Sing Sing Correctional Facility for 21 years, Lawes supervised the executions of 303 prisoners, all the while condemning the practice of capital punishment as barbaric, inequitable and futile.

And that, my friends is a nut graph to die for…pun intended.

A Man Who Knew About The Electric Chair

If I was still doing a radio show I would play this Bessie Smith tune:
Send Me To The ‘lectric Chair

Judge you wanna hear my plea
Before you open up your court
But I don’t want no sympathy
‘Cause I done cut my good man’s throat
I caught him whith a trifling Jane
I warned him ’bout before
I had my knife and went insane
And the rest you ought to know
Judge, judge, please mister judge,
Send me to the ‘lectric chair
Judge, judge, good mister judge,
Let me go away from here
I wanna take a journey
To the devil down below
I done killed my man
I wanna reap just what I sow
Oh judge, judge, lordy lordy judge
Send me to the ‘lectric chair
Judge, judge, hear me judge
Send me to the ‘lectric chair
I love him so dear
I cut him with my barlow
I kicked him in the side
I stood here laughing o’r him
While he wallowed around and died
Oh judge, judge, lordy judge
Send me to the ‘lectric chair
Judge, judge, sweet mister judge
Send me to the ‘lectric chair
Judge, judge, good kind judge
Burn me ’cause I don’t care
I don’t want no one good mayor
To go my bail
I don’t want to spend no
Ninety-nine years in jail
So judge, judge, good kind judge
Send me to the ‘lectric chair

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Sunday Wrap: : 11/14-11/19

Sunday Wrap:

Juiced!

A look back at the past weeks postings. Many times I forget that people need a little road map to the things that get put up on my blog so this is the best way I know how to catch you up. I sincerely thank you for reading. Both of you! This week some more thoughts on the Penn State mess,a look at some interesting pictures of a windmill and another thrilling chapter of Radio DaZe the uses foul language. Enjoy.

Monday 11/14/11

Blog Post We are NOT Penn State

Tuesday 11/15/11

Blog Post A fascination with big machines betrayed here. Windmills.

Wednesday 11/16/11

Blog Post Thankfulness..sort of.

Thursday 11/17/11

Blog Post A really funny edition of Radio DaZe

Friday 11/18/11

Blog Post Radio is broken-I think it’s not fixable.

Saturday 11/19/11

Blog Post Aggregate Saturday. A lot of complaints here.

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Aggregate Saturday:

Aggregate Saturday:


Really looking forward to some time away, some time on the road and some R&R.

It’s all about the next thing, in life, sometimes, isn’t it?

I am slowly healing from the tree removal incident last Sunday. The tree in question was leaning up against the house which was a bad thing but more distressing to LSW than me. So we hacked at it with the hand saw, heaved and pulled and I hurt myself in process.

It could have been a lot worse. It’s on a steep hellside. That would be hillside but it’s much too steep to be called that. At one point a mighty heave made me part company with gravity. I landed with the sense and breath knocked out of me up against a tree at the base of the hellside. A half a foot either way and I would have been skewered by sharp pointy branches. Jim-ka-bob.

After I recovered (and it took a while) I was doing mighty heave when I felt something give way inside of me. The left inside of me. Between my tit and my ass. Hurts like a MoFo now and is interfering with my rest. Also hurts when I try to (insert anything here) and generally makes life less pleasurable.

As I said it is better today than yesterday.

A little spun out after a later night than it should have been in my regular job. I love (not) when people you work with take the time to explain why they took so long to do something that you need to finish your day after the fact. I would prefer a heads-up before waiting an hour but, hey that’s just me.

All is ready for the trip north. A stock of Dick Yuengling’s best for the folks up there that thirst for it. Made my world famous apricot square’s from Aunt Mary’s age old recipe for the feast. Changed the oil. Cleaned the car. Filled the windshield washer. Checked the accommodations reservations. I wish we were leaving tomorrow.

Another weird spike in my goggle analytics yesterday. Who knows? I do not. But thanks for reading!

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Radio is broken…

When I was toiling in the gardens of Amplitude and Frequency Modulation my boss and I put forth the proposition that we would know when radio was over when the first in car internet music became available.

The time is nigh.

Sam Grobart writing for dead tree publication (don’t look over your shoulder, Sam) The New York Times:

Here are some of the problems with listening to music in your car (which is otherwise awesome):

1. Commercial radio is just awful. A limited number of songs played in endless repetition is bad enough — to then have to hear asinine ads for weight-loss and debt-reduction services on top of that makes you wish you had never been born. Public radio can be worlds better, but it’s not always consistent—and there’s always the possibility that you’ve stumbled into the minefield of boredom and haranguing that is Pledge Week.

Radio is dead

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Radio DaZe: F&%$!

Radio DaZe: F&%s!

Wacky was a great place to work and a terrible place to have a life. I worked all the time. My life was sleep, not very much, eat (a lot) and work work work.

At one point I was morning man, production director, operations manager, copywriter and I did mobile disco work on the side. I was VERY busy!

I gained a lot of weight, eating sub sandwiches, potato chips and washing it down with gallons of sugared soda. Pictured below, you see me (Right) with Jim “The Big Tuna” Kaye, both heavyweights in the industry.

I am guessing I am getting near my high point of 280. Whew!

One day I was in the front office munching on a sub. I am sure I had mayo and other debris on my beard and shirt. I just wasn’t concerned with my appearance, always rushing here and there.

An “account executive” from WHYN, someone who I had probably met two or three times while I was there, entered looking for a taped copy of a commercial we had produced to run on WHYN. Fairly standard procedure, we gave them ours, they gave us theirs.

He stood in our cluttered lobby/office and looked me over. I greeted him. He was the total package, shined shoes, dapper suit and 100$ hair style. I looked like a street person. He took my hand, reluctantly. I probably wiped mayo off on my jeans.

He said, “Well, they seem to be feeding you well.”

“At least here I can afford to eat.” was my witty reply.

Maureen, the feisty take no shit from anyone office manager/traffic manager/receptionist (everyone wore multiple hats at WACKY 102) was nearby. “Mo” was a tough customer but she was intensely loyal to Don and Mike and by extension me. She adored my son, James, and was always happy to advise me on my escalating marital woes.

“What do you want?” she snarled at the A/E, with the word “peckerhead” barely audible.

The WHYN A/E began to bristle and gave Mo some attitude. Wrong move, peckerhead.

It don’t recall how it escalated into a shouting match but I do know Mo called him a fuckhead. He demanded to see the GENERAL MANAGER!

Don was in, his office right off the lobby and his door was open. He could not have helped but hear.

Mo shoved him in the office and I overheard Don say, “what do you want?’ I couldn’t hear the AE’s reply but I sure heard the next thing Don said.

At the top of his lungs he shouted. “She said what?” Murmur from AE. “Fuck she said?” More mumbles.

Then it became like a cartoon, Don chasing the hapless AE out the door, screaming “fuck fuck fuck” while Mo and I collapsed in tears and laughter. Guy never got his tape, nor did he ever come back.

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I am thankful:

I am thankful:

I am not a Penn State alumnus. I am in fact thankful that I have nothing whatsoever to do with them. I am thinking about removing the sign in front of my property that directs you to the Lehman campus, as it may be construed as aiding and abetting.

I have limited my contact with the human race. My job is now 100% from home. My trips out in the world are few and brief and timed to give me the minimum interaction. This works out just fine.

We have managed to recover 80% from Tropical Storm Lee. We still have several trees down (anyone want some Applewood? Free!) but the one leaning against the house is gone, with a staggering amount of effort. New roof, some paint and we are pretty much there.

We don’t live in Shickshinny. Many many reasons.

That my health has improved over the past year. I know I have added years to my stay on the planet-here’s hoping that the years I have gained will be good ones.

For all my loved ones, near and far. It is, in the end, what it is all about.

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Windmill

Northeast Pa has about a dozen of these things on what we laughingly call a mountain here. You can see them as you drive down the Cross Valley Expressway. Few of them are ever moving.

I just finished a fiction book by C.J. Box called “Cold Wind” that revolved (no pun intended..maybe) around windmills. It put forth the proposition that with government subsidies it doesn’t matter if these giants ever produce a watt – the profit is in the building of them. It was a work of fiction.

But…looking at the ones I can see when I head donwtown, the ones that rarely move, I wonder.

The other reason for the picture is to show the immense scale of these things. Check out the size of the pickup truck in the photo. Compare it to the size of the generator.

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We are NOT Penn State


I’m mad as hell. I won’t make any friends here. I could care less, but I don’t know how.

Eliminate all Penn State athletics. Every bit of it. Football, basketball, baseball, curling, bad-mitten, I don’t give a rats ass. If it’s coached get rid of it.

Keep the chess club, if there is one.

Take the money and put it into academics. Have freaking child molester protector Joe whatshisname build another goddam library to salve his conscience, not that that is Joegrandpa’s strong suit.

Oh, I hear you saying, the sports programs bring much needed cash into the U. BULLSHIT! Show me cost vs income. They won’t because that would make them look bad. If it makes so damn much money that the SCHOOL can’t survive without it then the SCHOOL should be turned into a state reformatory.

Continuing athletics condones the behavior. And mark my words, if there was abuse in the football, think of the possibility for more abuse in girls soccer. The amount of money it will cost to defend these cases, compensate the victims or cover the whole mess up and sweep it under the rug will well offset any money made by watching little boys run around on a football field.

It’s over folks. The fat lady has sung.

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Sunday Wrap 11/7/11-11/12/11

Sunday Wrap 11/7/11-11/12/11

Juiced!

A look back at the past weeks postings. Many times I forget that people need a little road map to the things that get put up on my blog so this is the best way I know how to catch you up. I sincerely thank you for reading. Both of you! This week some thoughts on Joepa, a look at some interesting pictures I find in the WWW and another thrilling chapter of Radio DaZe. Enjoy.

Monday 11/7/11
Blog Post R.I.P. Andy Rooney

Tuesday 11/8/11
Blog Post An artist signs his work-the Atom Bomb!

Wednesday 11/9/11
Blog Post Bah Humbug! Part 1 & 2-WEEKENDER Column

Thursday 11/10/11
Blog Post Radio DaZe- The Alert that wasn’t

Friday 11/11/11
Blog Post The carnage that is PENN STATE!

Saturday 11/12/11
Blog Post Aggregate Saturday

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