Blog

This has been a rough day.

The telephone kept ring and people kept knocking at the front door. Simply put, it was too busy around the house to sleep.

It started at 8:30 a.m. and the last call came in at 4 p.m. The last visitor at the front door was somewhere around 2 o’clock.

Thank goodness, but still too late to nap.

All I wanted was to lie down and sleep for a little longer; too take a nap before I had to put in my shift until midnight. Such is the life of a radio jock around Christmas time.

And I still want to lie down and sleep. Hopefully, things will be better come tomorrow—nope, wait, I have a friggin’ doctors appointment at the VAMC in the early morning.

I like to see my MD’s before they’ve had to deal with the onslaught of patients throughout the day.

It doesn’t help my exhaustion one bit now. That appointment was made over a month ago.

And as I think about it, I’ll probably get a change in my meds and that means waiting at the pharmacy for another hour. Oh, crap—the though leaves me even more exhausted.

At least I can laugh at myself and at the situation. I really thought I was helping myself by getting an early morning appointment.

Wrong. I will be back home by 1 a.m. and possibly asleep an hour later.

It’s the best I can do. With that, I am looking forward to whatever amount of sleep I can get.

Right now though, I have to refocus my energy and attention to the job at hand; re-writing and re-gurgitating the local news every hour. It’s all part of my life as a disc jockey.

Tossed wide my ol’ loop for that pony to wear.
And knew from his eye that I too must beware.
We dance back and forth as the dust flies thick.
And I know’d that he’s angry with each snort and each kick.

And jus’ when I figger I’m in for one helluva fight,
That’s when my wife chimes, “Honey, Good night!”
Well, I open my eyes with this wild looking stare.
I’m jus’ snappin’ broncs from my old easy chair!

Today I was thinking about how much I miss going to church on Sunday and as things go, one thought rolled into the next and so forth, until I got to thinking about the first time I realized I was an independent person; separate from my parents and siblings. It’s a thought that had never before occurred to me.

It was my birthday 1975, early morning as I recall. I was laying on my right side, facing the wall, on the top bunk of the bed set I shared with my younger brother.

As I struggled to wake up, I looked at my left hand. As I looked at it, I noticed my little finger.

There was nothing wrong with the hand or my finger. Instead it looked more or less the same as it had the night before, so what made me notice it and why was it suddenly so interesting?

It was simply the fact that it had turned 15 years old, jus’ like me.

I was marveling at the idea that it had been with me all these years and I had never paid it much attention.

That led me to take notice of myself; my personality and my private thoughts. All the years before I had taken what others, such as my parents, teachers and friends thought and believed and made them a part of my own.

On that day, my fifteenth birthday, I came to realize I was as complete a person as God had designed me. Of everything that day–this is all I can remember about turning 15.

So this morning, as I thought about this and remembering how I felt, it occurred to me that God doesn’t need a church to teach us a lesson about ourselves. He’s a gentle preacher and I really enjoyed our sunrise chat.

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.