Say goodbye internet.
See you in five days from a new location.
Friday, October 12, 2018
Thursday, October 11, 2018
Moving Pictures
Who the hell does this?
Who has THIS many pictures?
I'm a freaking HOARDER!!!
Put me on the damn show.
Who has THIS many pictures?
I'm a freaking HOARDER!!!
Glory Days
This picture was taken at my house on Springwater Drive in south St. Louis County. Not sure the reason why we were all together, but it was great we were.
Such great love and respect between us all.
1987
Me, Fredrocks, Skid Roadie, Jon Hart
Wednesday, October 10, 2018
Chasing Change
(and yes that is the name of a song by the Climax Blues Band from their album Sense of Direction)
The last few years have been brutal.
Up one minute, down the next, down one minute, down the next.
Seems to have been a downward spiral, or like Sisyphus pushing the rock and the rock always wins.
God seems to have been grumpy with me and I him.
Didn't like that he didn't communicate very well. Or often.
We would acknowledge each other in passing, but just a bit of old man attitude between us.
It came to light (or dark) recently as what I thought was, was indeed not.
I wasn't hired to hire, train, mold, mentor and be a teacher for a new sales staff.
I inherited a staff of one who had been there for a hundred years and didn't need/want any help from me.
Didn't blame her. She was lighting it up.
I was hired to be the new business development guy, moving to a town of 13,000 in the middle of a corn field.
City boy, new guy, pretty closed society. A list that had no meat.
Set up to fail, and...and before I could, I did something I hadn't done just about ever.
I told them what to do with their business.
Stick it where the sun don't shine and ain't talking about your closet.
So, God, whatup?
How about helping a brother out?
Where did I go wrong?
It's the bright shiny object theory over and over again which seems to have a particular pattern in my life.
Better. Brighter.
For the last few years, I've been chasing change.
Mo money.
No happiness. No justice, no peace.
Maybe I just suck at sales.
As the events were unfolding, on my brother's 70th birthday I made contact with an old friend in radio.
We chatted and talked about happiness and if I was feeling it.
No.
So, a break in the clouds, an instance of serendipity, an ounce of kismet.
Fuck the money, let's go have fun again.
So, screw it, I am.
In one of the truly WKRP packing and unpacking moments, I have five days to pack, load, drive unload, move in and report to work on Monday 7 hours away.
What is this? This is the remains of my CD rack. Totally taken apart. When intact, it holds about 2200 CDs.
My 2400 CDs
My itinerary goes like this...
Today...packed
Tomorrow...pack
Friday...pick up truck and car tow, load truck.
Friday night, with cat in the cab, drive 392 miles.
Hopefully unload truck Saturday.
Where am I going?
392 miles where I pick up my keys to a radio station.
A real radio station.
That actually streams.
Where?
The apartment is ready.
Soon.
The last few years have been brutal.
Up one minute, down the next, down one minute, down the next.
Seems to have been a downward spiral, or like Sisyphus pushing the rock and the rock always wins.
God seems to have been grumpy with me and I him.
Didn't like that he didn't communicate very well. Or often.
We would acknowledge each other in passing, but just a bit of old man attitude between us.
It came to light (or dark) recently as what I thought was, was indeed not.
I wasn't hired to hire, train, mold, mentor and be a teacher for a new sales staff.
I inherited a staff of one who had been there for a hundred years and didn't need/want any help from me.
Didn't blame her. She was lighting it up.
I was hired to be the new business development guy, moving to a town of 13,000 in the middle of a corn field.
City boy, new guy, pretty closed society. A list that had no meat.
Set up to fail, and...and before I could, I did something I hadn't done just about ever.
I told them what to do with their business.
Stick it where the sun don't shine and ain't talking about your closet.
So, God, whatup?
How about helping a brother out?
Where did I go wrong?
It's the bright shiny object theory over and over again which seems to have a particular pattern in my life.
Better. Brighter.
For the last few years, I've been chasing change.
Mo money.
No happiness. No justice, no peace.
Maybe I just suck at sales.
As the events were unfolding, on my brother's 70th birthday I made contact with an old friend in radio.
We chatted and talked about happiness and if I was feeling it.
No.
So, a break in the clouds, an instance of serendipity, an ounce of kismet.
Fuck the money, let's go have fun again.
So, screw it, I am.
In one of the truly WKRP packing and unpacking moments, I have five days to pack, load, drive unload, move in and report to work on Monday 7 hours away.
What is this? This is the remains of my CD rack. Totally taken apart. When intact, it holds about 2200 CDs.
My itinerary goes like this...
Today...packed
Tomorrow...pack
Friday...pick up truck and car tow, load truck.
Friday night, with cat in the cab, drive 392 miles.
Hopefully unload truck Saturday.
Where am I going?
392 miles where I pick up my keys to a radio station.
A real radio station.
That actually streams.
Where?
The apartment is ready.
Soon.
Monday, October 08, 2018
Stairway to the Beatles
Now we know where Led Zeppelin REALLY got the idea for Stairway to Heaven...
Stairway to the Beatles
Stairway to the Beatles
Too Many Cooks
One thing I do know how to do is cook.
With limited resources.
My mom could take an onion, some eggs, a slice of bread and feed the forty thousand.
She was always very creative that way.
What you see before you is a very favorite "batch" recipe.
Fish stick tacos.
Crispy fish sticks (2 each) combined with whatever else you may have rolled into a tortilla.
I think this edition included lettuce, guacamole, onions, diced tomatoes (diced by hand of course,) some sour cream, 3 cheese Mexican blend cheese, refried or black beans and some Mama Risito's hot mango salsa.
A culinary delight worth sharing.
Short Stories (for kids even)
Tess and I were at Starved Rock State Park yesterday and hiked probably about 5.5 miles.
We came upon this group of egrets on the river bank and that started my incredibly twisted mind into a very dark hole. Tess contributed and the next few hours or so were wasted in this children's book that will never be published.
"Edgar The Regretful Egret"
Here's the story of an egret named Edgar who had an egregious ego.
Edgar loved Eggo's for breakfast.
Edgar's neighbor Eldred, the elder eagle, watched eggs for the neighborhood.
Eldred was always egalitarian in his eggressions.
Eldred descended from Egyptian eagles, known for drinking egg nog.
Eldred's niece Edie was an elegant eaglet.
Edgar and his ego were envious.
She was more eagle eyed than he and always won the elementary earthworm eating event.
Embarrassing!
Edgar and his emotional ego decided to commit the most egregious, egg headed act ever.
At Edgar's next encounter with Edie, he edged her into the engine of a 747 airplane.
Eldred, the elder eagle, (Edie's uncle) perched on the edge of a nearby branch, observed the encounter.
As Edie's feathers fluttered through the fauna, Emmett, the emo emu, who's been embittered and embarrassed by charges of embezzlement, emoted "Egads!"
Eldred, the elder eagle, emasculated Edgar and decided to extract Edgar's entrails.
That's how Edgar became the egret filled with regret.
But since he was killed by Eldred he was no longer regretful but dead
This is an anti bullying message put together with love from yours truly.
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