Author: Tom Darby

The good news is that it ISN’T cancer!

For the last three weeks I’ve been sweating out this news and biting the bullet. I think I’ll get a pretty good night sleep from here on.

The blood in my stool, pain while urinating, and having to get up to pee several times a night and an elevated PSA test lead to the thought that it may have been prostate cancer.

And like all health issues there is a “but” involved.

Yet my doctors think I can overcome these issued with a little exercise and better eating habits. My blood pressure was higher than it has been in the last four years.

This is especially concerning for me since my father died of a stroke in July 1995. Jus’ after his death I underwent a lot of stress and saw my blood pressure rise dangerously high.

In essence my doctor back than said I was a walking stroke jus’ waiting to happen.

It was that scary message that caused me to get on the ball. I started eating more fruits and veggies.

I knocked off the salt and much of my coffee drinking, limiting myself to no more than two cups a day.

At the time I had four jobs that I worked at and two of them I could walk too as I only lived a couple of miles from either. And thats what I did—walked as much as I could, losing around 20 pounds in around three months.

Now, I’m planning to do the same thing. My doctors tell me that I’m at 33-percent body mass index, meaning I’m grossly overweight.

Yes–50 pounds is grossly overweight. My cholesterol is 40 points too high and my triglycerides are nearly 120 points over my target.

My plan is to walk 20-30 minutes everyday. Cut out the coffee, salt and snacks. And drink eight-plus glasses of water daily.

I am looking at a goal of losing 25 pounds by March 1st or roughly two pounds a week.

There have been some attacks levied against me for claiming to be a Christian and also accepting as friends, people or organizations that offer pictures of themselves half-naked. I am a person who is willing to take an attacker head-on, so my answer is thus: I’d rather be like Jesus, hangin’ with the Sinners than the Saints.

But before you read this and get angry at me for calling us Sinners, read on…

The word “pornograhy” appears as early as 1840 in common literature, evolving from the French “pornographie” meaning “description of prostitutes,” and from the Greek “pornographos” which means “(one) writing of prostitutes.” It is also rooted in Latin from “porne” which means “prostitute” and is related to “pernanai” meaning to “to sell,” being associated with the “sex trades” and “graphein” meaning to “to write.”

Originally the word was used to describe classical art and writing. “Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure,” also known as “Fanny Hill,” is one such novel written by John Cleland in 1748. It’s is considered the first modern “erotic novel” in English, and has become a byword for the battle of censorship of erotica.

The more modern meaning is “salacious writing or pictures” and is a slight shift from the original etymology. An example of what was considered “salacious” at the time of their publications were D.H. Lawrence’s “Lady Chatterley’s Lover,” and “Riders of the Purple Sage,” written by western novelist Zane Grey. Both appeared in the first half of the 20th century.

As for the word “pornography” appearing in the bible; it is not there.

The word has never appeared in the Holy Bible however the word “harlot” has since been replaced by the word “prostitute.” That word was placed in the Bible by 18th century Theocratic editors in order to develop a society that would not tolerate the “sex trades.”

This created the existing idea that “pornography” is anything that has to do with nudity. It appears it has become acceptable to change the meaning a word for religions sake, leaving some to believe a words exist in the Bible that isn’t really there.

Another example of this is the word, “Sacrilegious.” It is not in the Holy Bible either but many Preachers use it and refer to it Biblically.

Do nude or partially photographs of the human body, like swim suit calendars or Playboy which offers no sexual intercourse in its pages at all, qualify as “pornography” or is it art?

You must answer this question for yourself.

There have been some attacks levied against me for claiming to be a Christian and also accepting as friends, people or organizations that offer pictures of themselves half-naked. I am a person who is willing to take an attacker head-on, so my answer is thus: I’d ra•ther be like Jesus, hangin’ with the Sinners than the Saints .

But before you read this and get angry at me for calling us Sinners, read on …

The word •pornography” appears as early as l840 in common literature, evolving from the French “pornographie• meaning “description of prostitutes,” and from the Greek “pornographos” which means, “(one) writing of prostitutes.” It is also rooted in Latin from “porne” which means “prostitute” and is related to “pernanai” maning to •to sell,” being associated with the “sex trades” and “graphein” meaning to “to write .”

Originally the word was used to describe classical art and writing. “Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure,” also known as “Fanny Rill,” is one such novel written by John Cleland in l748.

It’s is considered the first modern “erotic novel” in English, and has become a byword for the battle of censorship of erotica.

The more modern meaning is “salacious writing or pictures,” and is a slight shift from the original etymology.  An example of what was considered “salacious” at the time of their publications were D.R. Lawrence’s “Lady Chatterley ‘s Lover,” and “Riders of the Purple Sage,” written by western novelist Zane Grey.

Both appeared in the first half of the 20th century.

As for the word “pornography” appearing in the bible; it is not there. The word has never appeared in the Bible, however the word “harlot” has since been replaced by the word “prostitute.”

That word was placed in the Bible by l8th century Theocratic editors in order to develop a society that would not tolerate the “sex trades.” This created the existing idea that “pornography” is anything that has to do with nudity.

It appears it has become acceptable to change the meaning a word for religions sake, leaving some to believe a words exist in the Bible that isn’t really there.  Another example of this is the word, “sacrilegious,” which not in the Bible either, but many Preachers use it and refer to it Biblically.

Do nude or partially photographs of the human body, like swim suit calendars or Playboy, which offers no sexual intercourse in its pages at all, qualify as “pornography” or is it art? You need to decide for yourself and quit pointing fingers.

The government in the state of Iowa must have TOO much time on their hands as they have decided to tax pumpkins! Now, this may not seem like much, but the pumpkin is a food and therefore not taxed as a rule.

Yet some smart-assed pencil pusher figured out that some of this ‘food’ was being used as decor for the holiday.

If an Iowan wishes to declare their pumpkin as food all they need do is fill out the paperwork and submit it to the state. So do the math: the tax is five-percent or five cents on the dollar, the paperwork is about 15 cents per page and there are two pages to fill out.

Iowans should take their pumpkins down to the state capital and leave them in protest. I also think every Iowan should get the paperwork and declare their pumpkins as food, then sit back and wait to see how much money ends up in the states tax coffer.

There is also word that the popularity of certain political candidates in the form of Halloween costumes is a GOOD way to determine who will win the next presidential election. Silly me, here I thought going to the ballot box was the only way to determine an election.

And as a personal observation–when I was a kid and used to go trick-or-treating, I remember getting candy bars as big as baseball bats. So what the heck happened to that kind of candy?

A little research shows that at some point in the early 80’s, candy makers under pressure from various health conscious consumer groups, decided to create ‘mini’ treats — smaller candy bars. These consumer groups had somehow concluded that the BIG candy bars were far too much candy for kids and were leading to obesity.

What they didn’t think about was the person at the door handing out bunches of these ‘little’ goodies. That means those ghosts and goblins will end up with more after all.

And yes, if you think some of your favorite candies have gotten smaller, you are correct. These same groups, using the same lobbying techniques, convinced candy makers that they were doing a ‘good’ thing for consumers.

So tonight, I plan to wear my President Bush mask, eat pumpkin pie and hand out complete, unopened bags of mini-candy bars.

We have family living down south in California. My wife grew up in Ramona, which is 60 miles from San Diego and Ramona was evacuated last night.

Her sister lives there still with her husband and two kids. Her brother also lives there and has decided to stay to protect his home that he shares with his wife and a stepdaughter.

Her ex-sister-in-law, a niece, her son, a nephew and his new bride all left town to escape the possible danger. We’ve also heard that one friend has lost his home so far because of the blaze.

The news is covering the many wildfires, especially in the Malibu area, but because there are very few famous people living in Ramona, very little has been said. Only CNN had a reporter on the ground claiming to be in Ramona.

Unfortunately she wasn’t in the town itself, as when the camera panned to her right (our left on the screen) they showed a Longs Drug–which Ramona doesn’t have. And we were never able to figure out where she was located.

Finally, we resorted to searching the internet for those private little reports made in video form– I hate to admit it–YouTube–for more information. It’s how we learned that Mt. Woodson, jus ‘ south of town was burning and that Julian, which is north of Ramona, was being threatened by fires.

So make YouTube your number one source for local, national, and international breaking news.

There’s your braided leather kack
Just sittin’, lonely on its rack.
And reins hang against the wall.
The inside of my dead ponies stall.
I miss you Captain Jack.
I miss you my old friend,
Now that you’re at your trails end.
Old age is what caught you
And I suppose it’ll catch me too.
Then together we’ll ride again.

For several weeks Angela had suspected Kristen of undercutting her editorial authority. She accused Kristen of little things at first; purposely using a certain computer to keep Angela from working on the front page and changing headlines or photographs for the paper.

It soon progressed into much larger accusations. Angela confided in Tommy that she believed Kristen had locked her out of the computers main frame. She also said that Kristen had been using company equipment to work for another news gathering organization.

Angela became more and more hostile towards Kristen. She transferred her to production, to work on advertisements. Angela even forbid Kristen from being in the newsroom for any reason.

One afternoon Kristen walked into the newsroom to say hello to her friend Angie. She sat down in a chair next to Angela’s desk and started talking to the reporter. Within seconds Kristen found herself being screamed at by the editor.

“You were told that you were not to be in here for any reason,” Angela yelled at the younger woman. Angela was red in the face and shaking her finger at Kristen.

Kristen sat frozen from the sudden verbal attack. She said nothing to Angela as tears began to well up in her eyes.

Jessica and Tommy stopped what they were working on as Angela Williamson became more irate and foul mouthed towards the woman. Neither one could believe what they were hearing or seeing.

It was not the last time Angela found a reason to confront Kristen.

The second time was when Kristen and one of her co-workers in production walked down the corridor to go to lunch. They passed around the perimeter of the newsroom which was line by a half wall and a long counter.

Angela was unable to stop the pair as they left the building, but she was prepared when Kristen and the other woman came into the building using the same door and started around the counter and half-wall. She jumped up from her desk and rushed at Kristen, flashing photographs of her as she went.

“I’m tired of you disobeying me,” Angela screamed. “I’m going to call Ed and show him these pictures. You’re not going to get away with lying to him this time. Now get the eff out of my newsroom and don’t let me see you in here again!”

It was another nasty scene that Jessica, Angie and Tommy could not believe had occurred.

Later that day several production workers and salespeople wanted to know what was the problem with Angela. One even approached Tommy as he walked to the bathroom.

“What the hell is her problem?” the saleswoman asked. Then she added, “I don’t know how you can stand to work for a person like that. She acts like an alcoholic.”

Tommy never answered because he didn’t want to find himself on the receiving end of Angela’s wrath and he didn’t want to engage in rumors. He did stop by Kristen’s work station to ask if she were alright after being verbally abused.

Kristen smiled as she turned red, recalling the embarrassing situation and said, “Yeah, I’m tough.”

Within four weeks Kristen quit her position and went to work at the major newspaper in the area. Angie never recovered from seeing her co-worker and friend humiliated like she was; she soon found another reporting position in Southern California.

The last few days have been hard on my body and mind. After falling during cross-country practice last week while coaching, my right forearm would not quit hurting.

I went to the VAMC and had it x-rayed.  Yup, I broke it.

My record is looking pretty good averaging out the last three-years. I have fallen three times (once a year) and only broken stuff twice.

If I were a pro baseball player I’d be batting 66-percent.

It is a spiral fracture that left my arm feeling very tender, especially when I would bump it every few minutes. Shoot, jus’ lifting my fingers caused me pain, so typing has been out of the question until today.

Then I had a problem with my truck–twice. It was the same problem both times.

The second time I was left stranded in Gerlach, Nevada, waiting nearly three hours for the tow truck. It is finally fixed at the cost of about $900 that I didn’t ‘t really have to spend.

Virginia, Santa will be late.

Jump to this last Wednesday, when I drove with the cross-country team to Yerington, Nevada for a meet.

The weather was windy but warm–a nice day for a three-mile run. I was watching the first place runner speed to the finish line when I was run over by the second place finisher.

I didn’t even see him coming!

He ran right through the finish line and into the flagging that was supposed to direct him down to where he would find out his time.  Instead he raced right into the flagging and me.

I remember hearing a ‘crunch ‘ which I believe was my neck ‘popping’ as I struck the ground.

The other spectators told me later that both the runner and I went flying head-over-heels. When I woke up face down in the grass, the flagging and my camera were wrapped tightly around my throat.

I recall trying to remember when cross­ country races had become a contact sport.  Needless to say I have been rather stoved-up since it happened and I know my lower back HATES me.

Then today a five-year old boy decided to take a rock and rub it the length of my pick-up truck. I followed him home and talk with his grandpa and him.

He said that he did it because the two boys playing in my drive way said too. However, I had heard the conversation and knew that they were telling him NOT to throw rocks “because you could scratch the guy’s truck.”

I watched, so dumbfounded that I couldn’t say anything as he ran the rock the length of the truck.

After talking to the boy and his grandpa, I found out that little boy thought the two older kids had TOLD him to scratch the truck.  I ended walking home, laughing all the way, unable to be mad over a simple mistake like that.

Labor Day, I filled in on the air for another newscaster who had taken the three day weekend off. It was during my 7 p.m. newscast that I misspoke Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi’s last name and I knew it.

Instead of “Pell-oh-see,” like it should be, I said “Poh-slee” or something to that effect. I followed the general rule of thumb in radio and television that teaches broadcasters to move forward even if you ‘gaff it,’ don’t wait around trying to fix the mistake—just move on.

No sooner had I switched off the microphone, than the studio telephone started ringing. It was a male listener who was intent on criticizing me for my error.

After so many years of radio broadcasting, a person kind of gets the idea of what is going to the topic of conversation.

The first time I answered the phone he wanted to know if I was the announcer. I told him I was and he proceeded to ask, “Do you know how to say Nancy Pelosi’s last name?”

My response was emphatic and immediate, “Yes, but didn’t you listen to what you’re grandma told you: If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all?”

Then I added, “Thank you for the call. Have a nice evening.”

I hung up the phone. A few seconds later the phone rang again. It was the same guy and once again he wanted to know it I knew how to say Nancy Pelosi’s last name correctly.

I responded, “I know I said her name wrong,” then added, “When you get your own radio show then you can be critical of me all you want.”

In my mind there was nothing left for me to say and there certainly was nothing left for me to hear. I screwed up her name and I realized it before anybody else. I think that it is appallingly rude to call someone you don’t really know and remind them of their short comings.

Then around 9 a.m., Tuesday morning, I got a telephone call from the stations Program Director wanting to know what happened at 7 p.m. My stomach fell through as I figured I was going to get “canned.”

He wanted to know what had happened and I recalled the entire incident for him. I also apologized for causing him a problem and not handling the situation in a better manner.

The Program Director explained to me that he deals with these sorts of situations all the time. His position was that the majority of complaints are listeners who have nothing better to do than “bust our chops” for any thing they can find wrong.

It doesn’t pay to be a smartass.

Aaron Russo, the Hollywood producer-turned-political firebrand who sounded early alarms about a coming global surveillance state, has died at age 64. Russo, who had battled cancer for nearly six years, passed away Friday, August 24, at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, surrounded by family and loved ones.

But Russo’s death leaves lingering questions—and a legacy that some say was decades ahead of its time.

In a historic and unsettling final interview, Russo detailed shocking insider knowledge allegedly given to him by a prominent member of the Rockefeller family. According to Russo, he was warned months before the September 11 attacks that a series of orchestrated events would be used to justify wars abroad, curtail civil liberties at home, and eventually implement a high-tech police state capable of tracking every citizen through implantable RFID microchips.

What once sounded like far-fetched warnings have, in the post-9/11 world, come eerily close to reality: endless foreign wars, ballooning surveillance programs, and growing corporate-government partnerships over personal data. Russo’s words, dismissed by many at the time as fringe, now read like a chilling roadmap.

“He was my best friend for 27 years,” said Heidi Gregg, his girlfriend and confidante. “Aaron was a freedom fighter, a filmmaker, and a lover of life.”

Russo’s career was nothing short of remarkable. In the 1970s, he managed musical legends like Bette Midler—producing her Tony Award-winning “Clams on the Half-Shell Revue”—and The Manhattan Transfer. He transitioned into film, producing hits like the critically acclaimed “The Rose” (1979) starring Midler and the classic comedy “Trading Places” (1983) featuring Eddie Murphy and Dan Aykroyd.

But Russo’s path shifted dramatically in the 1990s. Alarmed by growing federal overreach, he mounted an outsider campaign for Nevada governor in 1998 as a Republican, championing states’ rights and pledging to fight IRS abuses. Although he lost the primary to Kenny Guinn, Russo remained undeterred, later mounting a brief Libertarian presidential bid in 2004.  

In 2006, Russo completed what many consider his most powerful work, the documentary America: Freedom to Fascism. The film exposed what Russo described as the “fraudulent” nature of the IRS and warned of the creeping loss of American freedoms—a theme that echoes even louder today.

Born in Brooklyn in 1943 and raised on Long Island, Russo’s entrepreneurial spirit emerged early. As a teenager, he promoted rock concerts, and by his twenties, he was running a successful Chicago nightclub that hosted iconic acts like Janis Joplin and The Grateful Dead.

Those who knew Russo describe him as relentless and unwavering in his pursuit of truth.

“He was pointed, and once he knew there was a direction to go, you couldn’t get him to turn left or right,” said Ilona Urban, his longtime press secretary. “He was very committed.”

Russo is survived by Gregg and their two children, Sam Russo, 22, and Max Russo, 25.

As mainstream media outlets pay tribute to Russo’s career in entertainment, many of his followers wonder aloud–did Aaron Russo die with secrets that could have changed history? And in an age where government surveillance is no longer science fiction but an admitted reality, was his final warning not a conspiracy but a prophecy?

Only time will tell.