Just Random Info, That’s Random not Rambo.

I’m always curious about what went on, on a certain day in time that I have been circling the sun.

On this date, in case you might think this has been a boring day then hop on the time machine to March 21st,1976 after a David Bowie concert at the Community War Memorial arena in Rochester, New York, Iggy Pop and David Bowie were involved in a drug bust at their hotel room where the police found 182 grams (a little over 6.4 ounces) of marijuana. The pair spent the rest of the night in the Monroe County Jail and were released at about 7 a.m. on $2,000 bond each. Wow $2,000 dollars bond, crap 6.4 ounces may cost that much now. All of Massachusetts is refusing to exhale until July 1st.

On March 21st the number one song was “Silly Love Songs”, I understand that Paul wrote that in response to John saying all Paul wrote was silly or stupid love songs. If you look at the top 100 songs of 1976 no wonder Bowie and Iggy needed a bag or three. But out of all this dismal sound came brilliance at # 18 on March 21, 1976.  https://youtu.be/fJ9rUzIMcZQ

 

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Woody the Lion and Me, A St. Paddys Day tale

It’s the eve of St. Paddy’s Day 2018, in the most Irish town in America, Boston, and what better day to have an eve (small e) on than a Friday depending on the Eve (capital E) any day could be a fine one. And so, I have decided to tell you a story, an Irish story it’s one of many I have but this one happens to be true, pass the bottle, please. I was sitting in the game room occasionally known as the conference room of a radio station one day as we drank a few beers hit a few shots of Jack Daniels back and smoked a few illegals and no not aliens. We were talking about nationalities. It seems everyone had a bit of Irish on them this day even a guy named Feinberg (I used an alias for him) So finally after a few more beer and shots it was my turn to tell my nationality, pass the bottle, please. I started with the strongest two and that was as far as I got. I was never able to add and a little of this and little of that nationality. There was a guy there with thick long red hair and a bushy red beard, a very Irish lad indeed named O’Rourke (I made that name up for him, I think), pass the bottle, please. O’Rourke looked a lot like the original cowardly lion from The Wizard of Oz. So finally, the bottle and my turn rolled around, time for me to lay claim to my birthrights and I began to proudly announce that I was half, wait, before I get to that did I tell you that Feinberg, not their real name looked a lot like Woody Allen, and I didn’t make that up or  what O’Rourke looked like, don’t reread if you forgotten he looked like the Cowardly Lion from The Wizard of Oz.  So, my turn. Yes, my turn to drink, toke and talk, if I still could? And of course I can, I’m a highly rained Ofessional Brewdcaster. And if you have read and followed me this far I’ll bet you’re saying this better be worth it, well it’s not you can stop now.

So here we are, Woody the Lion and Me on the eve of March 17, which is supposedly the day of St. Patrick’s death.  I’ve never been sure why we celebrate that, dying doesn’t sound like party time to me. And now it’s my turn to proclaim my DNA results, I am, I said proudly part Irish and part Cherokee Indian. At this, Woody felt faint as the lion stood up with red hair and red beard and eyes ablaze and said, “My God man you’re an alcoholic looking for a place to happen”. To which I replied, and I found it, pass the bottle, please.

 

All the News That Wasn’t

Breaking News: King Rump believes that terrorists have commandeered the carousel at the Coney Island amusement park and are making the ponies run in circles. Furthermore, he says a Giant Ape is assaulting his Rump in New York, the Towers, that is.  And in Sweden, Sweden of all places, Sweden!  people are so poor they must go to the beach without clothes. And right here at home, right in my own backyard of Rambling Harbor where marijuana has been legalized, King Rump is reporting that chickens are so stoned they no longer have any desire to cross the street.

And Now Some Truth: This blog will be published on Sunday, February 26, and the following Sunday I will be in the hospital recovering from partial knee replacement surgery scheduled to take place on Friday, March 3. I have just found out that the hospital where I will be offers free complimentary lap dancers, er, laptops. However, there is some rumor going about that his royal Rumpness has demanded that I not be allowed anywhere near a computer.

Many people know that I live alone except for my constant companion Chloe Cat. Chloe is a gentle soul, and if ever a human and an animal could be soulmates, it’s the two of us. She will be without me for an extended period for the first time in 6 years when I spent 11 days at hospice as my wife gained her wings to soar the skies and fins to sail the sea. Both my friend Sarah, who could charm the skin off a snake and frequently does, and my artist friend Michelle of Fresh Cut Glass (and by the way, if you’re looking for incredible stained glass, check her out, the website, that is, and Trump, keep your hands in your pockets) are dear friends of Chloe’s, and both will be stopping in to provide food and most of all love and companionship, and that means the world to me. Recently I have become aware that Chloe may be losing her hearing. She is completely white, and many white cats are born deaf. Chloe was older when adopted and her exact age is a mystery, but the vet thinks she is somewhere around 12 years old and her hearing has been as “a-cute” as she is. So, I can’t help but wonder if this deafness has been brought on by a desire to not hear the orange one’s annoying voice. I have asked her this question a few times over the past weeks, but she refuses to answer. She’s a cool cat and never says a purr-muring word.

On the podcasting front, that is on hold until after the surgery, but there are some ideas in the works. A great new friend from across the pond is in cahoots with me on this, but there are rumors that the round orange idiot clown, instead of draining the swamp, is trying to drain the pond. Oh, and have you heard about his Rumpness’s new idea about the wall: now he wants to build one between the U.S. and Canada as well as Mexico. I understand that Canada’s Prime Minister Trudeau will help with that except for letting the chosen few through, so stay tuned.

 

1980

As I said in last week’s blog, I’m going to be looking at different years in my life, not necessarily in any particular order and indeed not because they were remarkable due to the fact that I lived in them but simply because I happen to have been alive during those years.

In 1980, I was just getting back into broadcasting after having been in and out of radio and in and out of prison. On November 4th, the actor Ronald Reagan was elected president, and the cost of a gallon of gas was $1.19. In 1980, the “Miracle on Ice” happened, and it had nothing to do with keeping your ice from melting in your Scotch glass. It happened during the Olympics. The US hockey team, which was the underdog, won the gold medal against the favored Soviets. The “Miracle on Ice” is still considered to be one of the greatest moments in sports and one of the best ice hockey games ever played. Speaking of Scotch, there was a song on the Billboard Hot 100 Chart that year that did have to do with alcohol. Do you know what song that was? The answer is in the podcast.

Also in music, at the end of 1980, Billboard’s ratings listed the number one song of the year as Blondie’s “Call Me,” number two was “Another Brick in the Wall – Part Two” by Pink Floyd, and checking in at number three was “Magic” by Olivia Newton-John. On December 8, 1980, I was working the 10 p.m.–2 a.m. air shift when at around 11:25 p.m. the newswire machine went berserk and a bulletin came over from the Associated Press that John Lennon had been shot. I will have more on that in the podcast.

Now let’s try this one: the press has been banned from speeches by someone attempting to take over the country. This person is saying they will start to round up anyone they deem to be unacceptable and send them away.  Because reporters have been banned and free speech and reporting are being taken away, I’m fearful that groups may carry out book burnings of works considered to be contrary to government policies. If this sounds like I lived in Germany in 1933, if you think I lived under Hitler, you’re wrong. This is America in 2016 as a lunatic named Donald Trump has already banned The Washington Post reporters from attending his speeches, which effectively breaks the First Amendment to the United States Constitution, which guarantees, among other things, freedom of speech and freedom of the press. Trump threatens to build a wall separating us from countries he doesn’t like and round up people he finds undesirable and send them away. This is not Hitler’s Germany of 1933. This is now. In America. In 2016.

There’s more on music, a little politics, and the answer to that trivia question at the end of paragraph two on the shores of Rambling Harbor. I hope you’ll join me there.

This Way To The Podcast On The Shores Of Rambling Harbor