JED gets put in his place by cousin Phyllis (center) and Verlie Suggs.
You and me again.
I’m looking at a blank computer screen.
You’re looking to read about radio.
We’re even, at least for the time being.
The world is in balance. You can
hear the tuning fork of the cosmos.
I’m looking at a blank computer screen.
You’re looking to read about radio.
We’re even, at least for the time being.
The world is in balance. You can
hear the tuning fork of the cosmos.
It’s not music, really. It’s more of
a feeling like your first massage or
a whiff of a nut roll in the oven.
I’m not gonna let you catch me
in a compromising position, with
nothing to say and a whole lot
of space to fill.
You’re probably thinking – “what
the heck is he talking about? His
whole world is one compromising
position.”
I’ll talk.
You listen.
Just like radio.
Cousin Phyllis came on the show this morning with all sorts of cookies she and Cousin Patty made. Verlie, who hosts with me on Tuesdays, and I disagree on the merits of white and dark chocolate. She chooses white. I choose dark.
I get the feeling that the seven or eight listeners out there like to hear cousin Phyllis come on the radio. She puts me in my place and doesn’t take s--- in general. Today, she put caller Mad Mac in his place. He tried to pierce the impenetrable Cousin Phyllis and got shot down. By the time Phyllis had to go to work –
“Love you, cuz.”
“Love you, too.”
… We talked about children today. First of all, the head of the Department and Children’s Services, Mary Beth Bonaventura, resigned from her position. She said that because of Governor Holcomb’s policies, “Children are gonna die.”
Bonaventura is a rock star in the world of looking out for the legal rights of children. She used to be the juvenile judge here in Lake County, and for a while there was a reality show about her life on the bench. It’s a lot to deal here with all of the gangs, murders and drugs around here. It made a pretty good reality show.
Then Ms. Bonaventura left her job to become a part of Governor Pence’s administration. Pence left to become vice president for President Trump. That means that Bonaventura had to somehow work with the new governor, Eric Holcomb.
That evidently isn’t happening. And Mary Beth, who comes from the Region, isn’t happy about that. Bonaventura said in her resignation letter that because of the opioid crisis, there’s a lot of children in need of some help from the state.
“I choose to resign rather than be complicit in decreasing the safety, permanency and well being of children who have nowhere else to turn… “
An interesting conversation developed between caller Bob and Verlie.
“There’s this huge opioid crisis going on in America, and this Mary Bonaventura thinks she can solve the whole thing? And if governor Pence doesn’t’ let her, she’s gonna say he’s murdering children? That’s preposterous.”
“Actually, Bob, Mary Beth Bonaventura doesn’t have anything to do with solving the opioid crises. She’s there to deal with the children left behind,” Verlie said.
It went back and forth like that for a while. And then cousin Phyllis came in – “I brought cookies for the station, not you.” I made fun of Hammond Tech and our cousins the Rexes, and then Phyllis had to go to work.
Late in the show, I interviewed a guy named John Kreisner on the phone. He just wrote a book called, “So you think you are a Black Hawks fan?” It’s all about Black Hawks trivia. We both talked glowingly of Dennis Hull, the forgotten little brother.
You have to be fearless to be
fearless. I don’t know how you
get there, but you know when
you’ve arrived.
Dandelions split in two
squirt wetness on your fingers.
Love fills you up like a
canister of Kool-Aid.
Without the tinge of grief,
you may never know
the intricacies of the
Pythagorean theorem.
I just wish that checkout
girls would wear something
else besides smocks and
flat shoes. Some of them
look really nice, but you’d
never know it.
On the third Tuesday of
every month, a woman
shops for toiletries at
Walgreens. One day
she won’t be there
any more. Another old
woman will take her place.
Life goes on in the cosmetics
aisles of chain drug stores.
Can you hear the coming
catastrophe? It’s a train
off in the distance
announcing its eventual
arrival. There’s no need
for fear because there’s
not a damn thing
you can do.
Take a couple deep breaths,
pour a bowl of cereal
and read the Sports section.
Or Lifestyle, if you’re
into that sort of thing.
You could read something
a little more high-brow
like Thackeray or Forbes,
but you’d wind up in
the same place anyways.
Might as well just
enjoy your reading
along the way.
It’s 5:26pm on the Tuesday before a Monday Christmas. Alexis is getting her hair done. No daughters here. The dog’s sleeping. I’m listening to “Friend of the Devil” by the Grateful Dead. Somewhere in this world there is misery. It’s not here right now, and I am thankful for that.
Station manager Debbie Wargo and my sister Jennifer and I have been doing all sorts of boring business stuff to close down the year. The stations needs my focus as much now as at any time in the year, with all of the planning stuff for next year (yes, planning). Still, I’ve got three more radio shows to do this week and the station’s Christmas lunch. Then I’m done for a good 10 days. I will go down to the stations a ton of times because I am addicted to radio. But I won’t, unless there’s a huge event, talk with the seven or eight listeners that I have. It will be a break for both of us.
The rolling goal is blog to the three or four of you every day for a year. I just don’t think I could do it. Take tonight. In a little bit I’m headed to a party where a guy’s daughter is gonna announce her engagement. The whole thing is a surprise, so I won’t say much. But suffice it to know that some of my buddies will be there and that I won’t want to say a damn thing to the three or four of you when I get home.
Hence, there’s another thousand words for you. And here’s a poem. Somewhere in the world there is misery. It’s not here right now.
The amount of evil
can’t be measured
if you cross the street
for a pack of cigarettes.
For whatever reason,
we may be wiped off
the face of this Earth.
No more candy bars.
No more stilettos.
No more boiling water.
No more juice.
No more hugs.
No more elections.
No more cars.
No more electrocutions.
No more zoos.
No more Baltimore.
No more photos.
No more basketball.
No more radio.
No more Juicy Fruit.
The only thing
left would be trees, grass,
streams, mountains,
our old highways,
buildings and modern art pieces.
Depending on how
much destruction comes
with our demise,
it could be a hodge podge
of nature and ruins.
That would be some
sight to see.
a feeling like your first massage or
a whiff of a nut roll in the oven.
I’m not gonna let you catch me
in a compromising position, with
nothing to say and a whole lot
of space to fill.
You’re probably thinking – “what
the heck is he talking about? His
whole world is one compromising
position.”
I’ll talk.
You listen.
Just like radio.
Cousin Phyllis came on the show this morning with all sorts of cookies she and Cousin Patty made. Verlie, who hosts with me on Tuesdays, and I disagree on the merits of white and dark chocolate. She chooses white. I choose dark.
I get the feeling that the seven or eight listeners out there like to hear cousin Phyllis come on the radio. She puts me in my place and doesn’t take s--- in general. Today, she put caller Mad Mac in his place. He tried to pierce the impenetrable Cousin Phyllis and got shot down. By the time Phyllis had to go to work –
“Love you, cuz.”
“Love you, too.”
… We talked about children today. First of all, the head of the Department and Children’s Services, Mary Beth Bonaventura, resigned from her position. She said that because of Governor Holcomb’s policies, “Children are gonna die.”
Bonaventura is a rock star in the world of looking out for the legal rights of children. She used to be the juvenile judge here in Lake County, and for a while there was a reality show about her life on the bench. It’s a lot to deal here with all of the gangs, murders and drugs around here. It made a pretty good reality show.
Then Ms. Bonaventura left her job to become a part of Governor Pence’s administration. Pence left to become vice president for President Trump. That means that Bonaventura had to somehow work with the new governor, Eric Holcomb.
That evidently isn’t happening. And Mary Beth, who comes from the Region, isn’t happy about that. Bonaventura said in her resignation letter that because of the opioid crisis, there’s a lot of children in need of some help from the state.
“I choose to resign rather than be complicit in decreasing the safety, permanency and well being of children who have nowhere else to turn… “
An interesting conversation developed between caller Bob and Verlie.
“There’s this huge opioid crisis going on in America, and this Mary Bonaventura thinks she can solve the whole thing? And if governor Pence doesn’t’ let her, she’s gonna say he’s murdering children? That’s preposterous.”
“Actually, Bob, Mary Beth Bonaventura doesn’t have anything to do with solving the opioid crises. She’s there to deal with the children left behind,” Verlie said.
It went back and forth like that for a while. And then cousin Phyllis came in – “I brought cookies for the station, not you.” I made fun of Hammond Tech and our cousins the Rexes, and then Phyllis had to go to work.
Late in the show, I interviewed a guy named John Kreisner on the phone. He just wrote a book called, “So you think you are a Black Hawks fan?” It’s all about Black Hawks trivia. We both talked glowingly of Dennis Hull, the forgotten little brother.
You have to be fearless to be
fearless. I don’t know how you
get there, but you know when
you’ve arrived.
Dandelions split in two
squirt wetness on your fingers.
Love fills you up like a
canister of Kool-Aid.
Without the tinge of grief,
you may never know
the intricacies of the
Pythagorean theorem.
I just wish that checkout
girls would wear something
else besides smocks and
flat shoes. Some of them
look really nice, but you’d
never know it.
On the third Tuesday of
every month, a woman
shops for toiletries at
Walgreens. One day
she won’t be there
any more. Another old
woman will take her place.
Life goes on in the cosmetics
aisles of chain drug stores.
Can you hear the coming
catastrophe? It’s a train
off in the distance
announcing its eventual
arrival. There’s no need
for fear because there’s
not a damn thing
you can do.
Take a couple deep breaths,
pour a bowl of cereal
and read the Sports section.
Or Lifestyle, if you’re
into that sort of thing.
You could read something
a little more high-brow
like Thackeray or Forbes,
but you’d wind up in
the same place anyways.
Might as well just
enjoy your reading
along the way.
It’s 5:26pm on the Tuesday before a Monday Christmas. Alexis is getting her hair done. No daughters here. The dog’s sleeping. I’m listening to “Friend of the Devil” by the Grateful Dead. Somewhere in this world there is misery. It’s not here right now, and I am thankful for that.
Station manager Debbie Wargo and my sister Jennifer and I have been doing all sorts of boring business stuff to close down the year. The stations needs my focus as much now as at any time in the year, with all of the planning stuff for next year (yes, planning). Still, I’ve got three more radio shows to do this week and the station’s Christmas lunch. Then I’m done for a good 10 days. I will go down to the stations a ton of times because I am addicted to radio. But I won’t, unless there’s a huge event, talk with the seven or eight listeners that I have. It will be a break for both of us.
The rolling goal is blog to the three or four of you every day for a year. I just don’t think I could do it. Take tonight. In a little bit I’m headed to a party where a guy’s daughter is gonna announce her engagement. The whole thing is a surprise, so I won’t say much. But suffice it to know that some of my buddies will be there and that I won’t want to say a damn thing to the three or four of you when I get home.
Hence, there’s another thousand words for you. And here’s a poem. Somewhere in the world there is misery. It’s not here right now.
The amount of evil
can’t be measured
if you cross the street
for a pack of cigarettes.
For whatever reason,
we may be wiped off
the face of this Earth.
No more candy bars.
No more stilettos.
No more boiling water.
No more juice.
No more hugs.
No more elections.
No more cars.
No more electrocutions.
No more zoos.
No more Baltimore.
No more photos.
No more basketball.
No more radio.
No more Juicy Fruit.
The only thing
left would be trees, grass,
streams, mountains,
our old highways,
buildings and modern art pieces.
Depending on how
much destruction comes
with our demise,
it could be a hodge podge
of nature and ruins.
That would be some
sight to see.
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