Category: A Cool Bachelor's Diary


Wallman

There’s a new villain out there…and he is nobody to marvel at.

The United States of American has been consistently “great”, with varying degrees, since 1776.  Wallman’s campaign slogan in 2016 was just a nationalistic ploy, in the mode of one of his heroes, Adolph Hitler, which set- up his modus operandi to bend our rules to the breaking point.

The world’s dictators like Putin and the guy in North Korea finally found a man so weak that they could whisper to him, “Then just don’t leave…”  and he’d try to do it.

He wanted to build a “wall” along our southern border with Mexico and played to those who complained that “those Mexicans” were coming across our border, “takin’ our jobs away…”

Now we have a “non-scalable “wall” around the people’s White House in Washington, DC, because Wallman thinks that he can stay walled-in and keep citizens who protest his overstaying his welcome away from the building after he pulls this coup-d’etat, in which he will use the military to enforce it against us. Suddenly, you can no longer see the White House from the street!  WTF?  Why would a lame duck President fire his Defense Secretary and replace him and others who quit the Pentagon in the aftermath of that with a bunch of lackeys? Maybe he is setting up his junta!

Talk about “bunker mentality”!  

I’d bet the con man is bluffing this scenario all the way to the end, as if sitting at some gambling table at one of his failed Atlantic City casinos.

I thought it very troubling that nobody picked-up upon the late-in-the-campaign speech and visit he made to Wilmington, North Carolina, which is the site of the only coup in United States history back in 1898, when a group of “white supremacists” overthrew the local government and killed many, many black American residents.   Wallman has been giving us signs that he would do this authoritarian tactic all along!

When he says there is “evidence of voter fraud” in our presidential election of this past November 3, what he really means is that his attempts at voter suppression in “key states” did not work. The reason they didn’t work is that enough Americans still have the common sense to be outraged by Wallman’s corruption and attempts to undo our checks and balances constitutional way of government and we came out and used the power of the ballot like never previously.

I don’t know what he has over or on those in the GOP, that more of them do not stand up to him and say, “You can’t pull that dictator shit here, Wallman!”  So, this is his plan to “make us great again”? By causing more angst and constipation of our electoral process; by not conceding with dignity?  Well, somehow, some way, by man or The Creator, he must be thwarted and evicted – and maybe given a room with bars in the front and window on its wall – before he overthrows life and legislative law, as we have always known it, in this land.

Unmasked (as usual, and a super-spreader)

[Be sure to flash on over to our satellite blog, “Achilliad’s My Vinyl Record Shoppe” to check out what we’ve been up to…]

It was Halloween Evening and all of the adult masquerade parties were in full physcally-distant ghoul.

The fish in the aquarium tank were agitated and kept seemingly trying to jump out! Since I didn’t feel like cleaning the tank, I decided to just add some distilled water from my electric kettle to top it off.

I could hear the neighbor’s party guests outside; maybe it was breaking up or they were just spreading-out to keep safe, when I heard a knock at the door. I peeked and saw a copper-skinned woman who I did not recognize, in a seemingly brown fur coat. Looking like a bear and figuring she was lost or looking for the neighbor’s party, I decided to ignore it and went back into the living room, closing the vestibule door behind me.

Soon another knock and then I heard a key in the door lock. Grabbing my ole boy scout knife/letter opener, I quietly neared the doorway to confront this intruder, when suddenly the door opened. It was that same female lady and now that I flicked the porch light upon her, I recognized the full length pumpkin-orange woolen coat! Her faintly Asian eyes flashed at me knowingly, through a sequined silver partial costume mask and Covid-19 mouth.

“Hey, you’re the one from the job! What the hell are you doing here!?” I said.
“I told you I was gonna make a copy…” She replied.

I looked her up and down. She was super-attractive, brown-skinned about five foot seven with wavy-curly, while yet straight-down hairdo and carrying a spooky plastic orange Halloween “Trick or Treat” shopping pouch.

“Tanya, right? From Goodwill… You wasn’t bullshittin’ when you said you’d copy my key..” I said.
“I told you..”
“How’d you do that? I was watching you the whole time you was in my cubicle. I asked.

I was working a part-time, temporary assignment with Goodwill administration as a Media Consultant. It was a hen house; so many females and very few men working there – except in the part dedicated to helping armed service Veterans – most of them didn’t flirt overtly, but my intuition told me that this one was curious (“yellow”).
My first impulse was to toss her out. After-all, she was uninvited and it was after midnight. I decided to mess with her for a minute for my amusement and possibly teach her ass a lesson.

“Nice coat. So you just show up?”
Her curly-lipped smile was slightly impish.
“Would you like to rest your coat?”

She peeled it off to reveal an orange lingerie bikini , nothing else.

“Hmmm, nice. But it doesn’t match your lipstick.”
“Thank you, never mind that” she smiled.
“What you got in that trick or treat bag to get me going? Maybe a li’l sniff?” I said, for shock value.
“Let me check. May I sit down?…”
She then did a 180, bending over, her bikini-clad ass almost inches from my growing bulge, as she rifled through one of her Halloween-colored bags. I wondered aloud if her costume was that of a “Bag Lady”. She chuckled as I snickered, “C’mon! Maybe you’ll find out, but I value your friendship either way.”

What the fuck did that mean on Halloween? Is this bitch an evil witch? Or a switch-hitter?

Its your turn, dear reader…
What do you think she pulls out of that bag? Does she have me a treat? Or does she turn a trick?


Suddenly, since the outrage caught on-camera of George Floyd, every company is trying to clean up their acts. Heh, lets drill deeper into this for a moment…

I link it to a man by the name of Thurgood Marshall, who was the first non-Caucasian American to become a Supreme Court Justice. ‘Marshall’, is a movie I just finished watching, which is based upon his early years, catapulting him to become an excellent magistrate. At the bottom of my last post is a Black Heritage Month postal stamp in honor of him.

This post is both a review of the movie “Marshall” and of expressions about which I have been holding back, while thinking of how this giant of our legal system highlighted lives that matter – via Brown v Board of Education of Topeka – and how his legacy is revitalized by the current George Floyd movements.

Aunt Jemima’s image has actually been evolving for decades.

In the marketing landscape of Madison Avenue, I applaud and simultaneously wonder how much difference will it make to the new movement, if Quaker Oats (another almost oxymoron of ethnic difference)/Pepsico removes the “Aunt Jemima” from the pancake box, or Mars Corporation removes “Uncle Ben” from the suddenly similarly sensitive rice brand?

And by the way, “Uncle Ben” could’ve been someone’s chef or maybe he was somebody’s real cool uncle! Who knows? One version is that he was a Maitre-d, whose image was admired and copied to a rice brand box (I bet he never received a ‘red cent’ for it either!).

According to Emily Becker in WomensHealth, “In 2007, Uncle Ben was made over as the head of the company as part of an advertising campaign that included changing his blue jacket to a business suit…”

Id’ have a problem if it was , like “Uncle Tom’s Rice” because, as most of us know, there is a book called “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”, and it was definitely about American slavery and the Negro race, but Uncle “Ben”? not so much. I never heard my parents complain as they stayed true to the brand as long as they lived!
I mean, are the Carolina states upset because they call it “Carolina Rice”?
Some of this seems trite with a preconceived bite. As Munich, Germany marketing expert Pascal Lauscher says, “Why can’t Uncle Ben just be a white guy?” [See “How Germany Dealt With A Similar…”] <a href="http://https://www.dw.com/en/uncle-bens-and-aunt-jemima-logos-how-germany-dealt-with-a-similar-problem/a-53862646” rel=”noopener” target=”_blank”>

Back to Aunt Jemima, I grew up in New York City and really, never thought about it much. It was always a brand and, yes, it smacked maybe of slavery, but I didn’t dwell upon it. Recently, they took off her bandanna or scarf to make her seem like anybody’s “auntie/ant” – however you pronounce it, lol I’ve always cared more about the contents of the box than the packaging.

I guess there were many female slave “Jemimas”, and I wouldn’t name my daughter that, lol for sure! I wouldn’t do THAT to a girl, or even “Beulah”! To me, those are “black-sounding names” as we’d laugh about it back in the 1970s. This is all the result of a southern USA connotation.

I didn’t think deeply about the name; if their pancake mix tasted good, that’s all that mattered!! Lets try some other names: Aunt Katherine’s Pancakes? Aunt Millie’s Pancakes? Aunt Maria’s Pancakes” Aunt Katia’s Pancakes? Aunt O’Hara’s?
I’d like to know the story of why that company chose to market pancake mix that way; what does slavery have to do with pancakes, for example?

Take breakfast cereals. How about “Cherrios”. Do British people get annoyed about that because that is their way of saying “hello” which is hijacked by American marketing? I don’t think so.
How about the rooster who used to crow promoting Kellogg Corn Flakes – do the animal rights people now have an ax to grind about that, visa v abuse?

You see how many ways one can twist and turn things if you really want to make an issue, or a mountain out of a mole-hill, of something innocently marketed?

Oh, I shouldn’t have written “mole hill” because the Mole Lovers will get upset. We can’t live like this as a society with a sense of humor!

How about “Mrs Butterworth’s” syrup; I never felt insulted by this promotion. Yes, it is a brown-skinned woman on the bottle who used to talk on the commercials like a cartoon, but does she look slaveish? No. She could be my next door neighbor, who makes good maple syrup, or who has a tree out back which gives good syrup, which she shares! I don’t take it as a racist stereotype thing.

Along these same lines, what do you think the new nickname of the storied NFL franchise, “The Washington Redskins” should be? I’d hate to see them lose their color scheme and logo entirely, so I suggest something like “The Mattaponi” (they are a native American Indian tribe indigenous to the D.C region).
Our youthful, energetically accurate about how the system has had its knee on our necks for centuries generation, should keep a narrow focus upon how American policing policy has always been about protecting systemic supremacy of a minority of insecure Caucasians in the United States.

Back to breakfast cereals, do the gays get offended now by “Fruit Loops”? How about the Irish being offended by “Lucky Charms” now, because the Irish are very self-deprecating with a great sense of humor? Then there is “Tony The Tiger” visa v “Frosted Flakes”? Again, an Animal Rights or Animal abuse cause?? Nyet. Come on, people! Stop the madness and have some laughs.

As for the movie, “Marshall”; I give the movie five (5) stars because of its great acting, historical positioning, educational value and portrayal of the roots of the greatest black American to hold jurisprudence on our United States of America Supreme Court, to date, which we never knew about. “The only way to get through a bigot’s door, is to break it down.”, Judge Marshall accurately said. I recommend it.

Just like in a company, where the employees reflect the personality of the CEO, so goes a nation or country, IMO.
Hearing about more terrible acts of gun violence, antisemitism and racial intolerance in-general these days is directly related to the individual who is, unfortunately, the current “CEO” of our country, The United States of America, residing in our “White House”.

Every American should own one of these. Just call and they will send you one!

As a general rule, I intentionally steer clear of polity here, but my diary is exploding with the need to carry this cautionary educational message for our last post of 2019.

Like the late American President Ronald Reagan’s “trickle-down economics”, so goes the behavior of our country morally, socially, attitudinally and emotionally. Not saying all of us are so influenced – we who have education, independence and individuality enough to make our own decisions don’t quickly fall under the spell of the “soup-of-the-day” – but many people who erroneously feel their voices aren’t heard, do drink the (spiked with hate) cool-aid.

This individual of whom I speak has no shame; when he is wrong in thought, word or deed, always finds someone else to blame – like Adolph Hitler did. His absence of character staidness has filtered dangerously into pockets of our populace, similar to how a cult would.

His recreant attempts to somehow bend the traditional and established norms of the office he and his contrivers misinformed groupies into casting electoral votes for and acts in depredation of our Constitutional rules terrorize our very way of life over the six decades that I have been alive and beyond. It is as if the late Alabama Governor who stood in the doorway of educational institutions to deny black students entry in order to preserve segregation has been reincarnated into a slightly slicker, taller version! Without shame, lying and then lying again as a spoiled child would when caught red-handed time and time again, while querulous about the press (aka “media”) he is at the very least pernicious to our civil discourse among a diverse nation of people. He doesn’t know when to belt-up!

Fantasy: I wish I could run for president so I could beat him! Reality: Yet, I am too much an imperfect human being, and in this climate of looking up candidate’s assholes, those willing to take me down would find some shit they would try to wipe my face with. Therefore, I feel that something/someone else will have to happen to save us “normal” educated majority masses from this dictator wannabe. Denial never solves; it makes it worse. This guy plans to campaign for another term with soiled underwear showing through his pants, without compunction about his repulsive smell, because he refuses to wipe his own behind.

He can’t wipe enough!

The solution is to elect a leader who speaks not in 140-character “tweets”, but to us all with televised speeches and with the traditional “weekly radio address”, eloquently, teaching and uniting upon the civil manners, mores and etiquette-based values of yore. Too much contentious nonsense with this guy; time for a return to compromise and civility in America. Even with the few things that disappointed me about President Obama, I know that we were a happier country during his two terms and neither Bush, Clinton, Bush the Father, Reagan nor Carter and their predecessors trampled upon our sacred U.S. Constitution like this guy is!

And that brings me to my Word of The Year for 2019:

Every time I turned around this past year, from the time my Charleston, South Carolina Wando landlord sought to not renew my lease in early spring, for reasons which are still a mystery, I found myself thinking or uttering aloud, “TERRIBLE!”

*Relocating interstate into a falsely advertised house to find moldy, sickening air and an uncooperative property manager: “terrible!”
*Uncouth, embarrassing behavior by the so-called President alienating allies? “Terrible!”
*almost weekly reports of mass shootings of innocents and gun violence not seen in decades! “terrible!!”
*antisemitism rising to a level not seen since Hitler’s time. “Terrible!”
*Copy-cat violence and too many guns on city streets – “Terrible”
*Oh, did I mention the obstinate Property Manager? Yes, I did but he gets another “TERRIBLE”.
*Ageism making money hard to come by the longer you live? “Terrible”.
*Not being able to get back on the radio in the profession I loved and was very good at? “Terrible!”
*Watching senescent relatives aging and the breakdown of our human bodies with disease, is in many ways sad and…almost, ”terrible”.
*Corporate greed and the closing of brick and mortar stores: “terrible”.
*Increasing lack of human toll takers at bridges and tunnels and all those jobs lost? “Terrible!”
*Many loose nuts with mental illness running loose when they shouldn’t be, and causing harm to people? – “Terrible”
*Educational disconnect between generations born since 1999, which leads to the collective having to revisit atrocities we thought were settled and negative history repeating itself. “Terrible and tragic”.
*Housing construction codes so poor one can hear the flushed water of the tenant upstairs cascading inside the wall – gross and “Terrible!”
*People staying inside too much and watching too much video and television – especially the news – “terrible!”

We teeter on the edge of abysmal era where there is no punishment for obvious transgressions by an executive, if he can deny it long enough. – like Watergate in 1973. That would be truly terrible if it comes to pass. United we stand, divided we fall.

Please have a safe day and keep your head on a swivel while enjoying and having as much fun as possible, these troubled times due to a cheater who subverted our system to get into our White House.

Attention: This is my 300th blog post here since November, 2009 and this month I mark the milestone: ten-years of blogging!!

Always a kind of counter-culture kind of a guy walking and dancing to the beat of a different drum, working the overnight shift playing music on the radio came easy for me. It was also encouraged by my mentors as a way not to become stereotyped as ‘just another black radio jock’ and allowed me to play mainstream, Top 40 music. The catch was, the powers that be usually only let the ‘black guy’ pull the overnight shift. I was okay with it.

I’m one of the kids of the 1960s who listened to his first transistor AM radio – a Zenith – under the pillow in his room when I was supposed to be asleep, parents in their room, not too far away, with my dad trying to put me down by calling me “an owl” whenever they caught me. I like “owl”; he was giving me a compliment. Why do everything like everybody else? I grew to never wanting to be part of the “Rat Race” of drones on the same rush hour, every morning and the same rush hour in the evening, day after day. Nyet! Nope. Going to work at 11PM, though sometimes hard, back when I was addicted to television, was always more fun once I got there, and the morning payoff of going home to chill with a beverage, maybe a female fan from my show or just to sleep while the world was awakening again was just really chill!

Little did I know, that the graveyard shift was resetting my body clock forever.

Or maybe I was born with that overtime set to my circadian rhythm’s DNA and the fate of career choices visa v the compliments I received on how my voice sounded over the air, extracted that natural inclination?

I surely adapted to it easily and it was fun, except when the day-timers at the job scheduled staff meetings back at the station in the middle of what was my “night” – sometimes as early as 11 AM – those would take me literally a couple of days or nights to recover from, and became sources of contention when I asked for a little consideration from the diurnal management.
I was fully committed to the day-coffin, learning to use heavy curtains with linings that would turn my day room to night until my alarm clock awakened me to watch the hottest soap opera of that era, General Hospital” with Luke and Laura at 3pm.

Recently, I began reflecting upon the radio stations boards which I learned to jock during the third shift throughout my two score on the air, at a point when I learned about the sale or demise of the name brand that I saw all the time but took for-granted, Gates.

Not sure if this one from my first commercial station, WFLB AM, is a Gates. Maybe your keen, expert eye can spot the characteristics.

Most of them had the Gates insignia on them until I graduated to stations in the mid-1980s that had sliding faders instead of round knobs we called pots.

The next one my research recognizes is the one I bounced with on WBSS FM, “BOSS 97”, Atlantic City, New Jersey fifteen years after ‘FLB. It is the Gates Executive 2.

Meanwhile, I learned that there is a whole world of fellow graveyard shifters who shared my unique pain mixed with laughter. Its almost cult-like…I developed “honored groups of the nyte” to acknowledge and play requests for such as hospital worker, cooks, street sweepers, bakers, bartenders, toll collectors, night watchmen, security guards,law enforcement types, like the detective who used to call into my show and ultimately invited me for a couple of boilermakers at this basic bar, at the unheard of hour of six A.M.! He became like a bodyguard for me up there in Worcester.
Next is a board that reminds me of the one I worked at New York City’s 1600, WWRL AM:

My unofficial research gleans that working the midnight shift may have altered when my body naturally produces melatonin! “Peak levels of melatonin are produced before 3 a.m., when it sharply decreases before natural daylight returns. (Higher levels of melatonin have been measured in the fall and winter when the days are shorter, thus the reason you may be sleepier in the winter months.)”  Wow, that might explain why I still can stay up with the best of ’em!
Even as I write this post #300, most of them are edited during the wee hours of the early morning – after midnight (an Eric Clapton song, btw).

Pickhit: On this “Blog Post #300” and upon our 10 Year Anniversary with WordPress, I was pondering what I would post so momentously. Originally pitched as a source of income in 2009 by an acquaintance, nothing of the sort has materialized – milestone not achieved.
I guess I came to keep doing this as writing practice, an outlet for free expression and a way to display my contemporary music knowledge via the amazing YouTube video attachments which accentuate my opinions and reviews.

***Thank you dear reader, who have happened by to peek and read my public “diary”. The private one? I will save for you, who I shall leave behind in the physical realm, someday. This is a milestone.
Peace.

Its been a long time since an episode of “Bachelor Cooking” posted!

Not a single recipe since I was dating Inna earlier this decade, and while the hurt from those failed relations (nobody’s fault but the money) will never go away until I mend that loss with a more stable Украина женщина, I decided to follow up my “Columbus Day Top Ten” reasons post with what I created for my Italian-style Columbus Day After-parade dinner. I’ve been on a cooking “roll” (no pun intended) lately, and its a shame that I have no lady to share them with. I digress…back to the dish and not the “dish”.

This “hot” Italian sausage and spinach dish came out “restaurant quality” in my opinion. You can use just about any firm pasta as the base so long as it withstands the sausage and tomatoes; I chose Rigatoni, but Penne, Rotini or shells would work!

In the wake of Columbus Day 2019 and the inspiration of watching it from outside of NYC on WABC7NY television that glorious Monday, I wanted to extend and so I imagined, what kind of food I could make similar to what would be enjoyed in the Little Italy that evening for my own post-parade party. Before a recent trip, I stocked my provisions in the fridge and I had a craving for hot Italian sausage, which I hadn’t had the opportunity to grill all summer as I would have in normal years past. 2019 has not been a “normal” year; I’ll tell you why in a couple more posts.

So, I came up with this simple celebration of taste where you’ll only need one pot and your large black iron frying pan to create a restaurant-quality dish! I’d just recently became reacquainted with my heavy pan which was in storage, seasoned it with some extra virgin olive oil (EVOO) and put aside overnight in a cooling oven.

Therefore, when I began this dish by sauteing three hot Italian sausages on number 2.5, if your range is electric or medium-low if gas, it was ready to rock and roll. Simultaneously, prepare half-pound of Rigatoni in another two-quart pot with a dash of seas salt tossed in the water. Make sure you put three cuts on each sausage like you would a hot dog on the grill – it will make them easier to chunk with your metal spoon, spatula or precise-knife!

While that is cooking, get one onion, three garlic cloves ( or a couple teaspoons of pre-minced from the jar, half a bag of frozen (unless you want to do it yourself fresh) pre-sliced “three peppers (yellow, read & green) mix”, one can of diced peppers, a half can of tomato paste and half-bag fresh spinach (not “baby”) ready on the side to join the action. When the sausage starts to sizzle, I turn them and lace with a hand-full of Italian seasoning from my spice carousel. Cook your pasta according to the directions on the box and set aside.

After about 7 minutes, take the chunks of sausage out of the pan put in a little tin warm-foil and set aside on your stove top. Drain any excess oil from the heavy pan – but not all! Lower heat and add your garlic, chop three-quarters of a yellow onion, stir and raise the heat to medium or 4.5 on the electric range. Stir a lot and add your tomatoes (with juice),tomato paste, a splash of a red-wine beet marinade and four drops of Filippo Berio Raspberry Glaze with Balsamic vinegar and a little palm-full of hot red-pepper flakes from my spice carousel. Cook it about 10 minutes and stir often to mix it up! Remove from heat.

Drain the Rigatoni, toss with a splash of evoo and couple dashes of dried Basil. Add spinach. I transferred it to my big, silver chef’s bowl and mixed all up really good with my chef’s wooden spoon, until the spinach was wilted. Add sausage and really mix-up and toss as all ingredients now have a party going on in the bowl!

Transfer a portion to a serving dish and top with a sprinkle of Parmesan cheese… “Viola!”

A nice, room-temperature glass of authentic Chianti completes this meal!

This definitely extended the Columbus Day feeling for the rest of the week as I (of course) have copious leftovers in my brand new resealable container, tempting me to munch every time I open the fridge.

As with a stew, it was even better the second serving! “Light-bulb!!! Maybe you can use this recipe for your upcoming NFL Super Bowl party!
Enjoy and please let me know how you liked it!
And now a word from our classic commercials…

1 – It gives me a nostalgic, Fall holiday feeling because, growing up in what was arguably the best public school system in America, New York City’s from the late 1950s through the early 1970s, we had to learn about Christopher (Cristoforo) Columbus [1451 – 1506] and his romanticized voyage in addition to getting another day off from the new school year! First report cards, Veteran’s Day and Thanksgiving were on the horizon!

2 – Occurring a few days after the Jewish New Year and Yom Kippur, it reminds me of our collective cultural heritage as Americans.

3 – His voyage proved the earth is not flat! Imagine only knowing Europe, Asia and maybe Africa as the totality of the planet and then sailing east of your world, trying to find a short-cut to the Far East (the Orient) without knowing if you would fall off the edge into oblivion! That was the prevailing geography of Columbus’ era!! He was truly courageous.

4 – Now THAT’s Italian! Even though he set sail from Spain, Columbus was born in Genoa, Italy. Columbus Day is an Italian celebration! Among our earliest immigrants to “the melting pot”, they are one of my favorite nationalities and some of the coolest paisans who’ve given us pizza, pasta, romantic music and not to mention movies like The Godfather, gangsters, many streets named “Columbus” (like “Columbus Circle in NYC), and beautiful women like Sophia Loren! I recall an Italian girl named Marie from my first job at an A&P food store; she used to come in with her mom and I was the sixteen year old produce clerk weighing and bagging her melons, etc. If only I wasn’t so shy back then, I would have asked her to a movie and possibly changed my history – we definitely had some chemistry!

5 – Little Italy. There is one in every major city, but New York City’s is the most famous and where the food in the many restaurants and bars is off the chain deeee-licious. It’s sure to be poppin’ down there Monday night!

6 – The Nina. His flagship, sailed 25,000 miles under Columbus’ command and was his favorite of the three ships. Real name was the Santa Clara after the patron saint, but took the nickname from her owner, Juan Nino of Moguer. I think “Nina” means “the girl”.

7 – The Pinta. Like the Nina, a Caravel ship, light and fast; commonly used by explorers of those days. The most mysterious of the trio, she returned home and apparently that is all that is known.

8 – And The Santa Maria. The least favored by Columbus was the heaviest of them all; a cargo ship. Must have been a keen trick to keep track of all!

9 – The Parades!

10 – This Poem that helped us learn about the history of Columbus Day:

“In fourteen hundred ninety-two
Columbus sailed the ocean blue.
He had three ships and left from Spain;
He sailed through sunshine, wind and rain.
He sailed by night; he sailed by day;
He used the stars to find his way.
A compass also helped him know
How to find the way to go.
Ninety sailors were on board;
Some men worked while others snored.
Then the workers went to sleep;
And others watched the ocean deep.
Day after day they looked for land;
They dreamed of trees and rocks and sand.
October 12 their dream came true,
You never saw a happier crew!
“Indians! Indians!” Columbus cried;
His heart was filled with joyful pride.
But “India” the land was not;
It was the Bahamas, and it was hot.
The Arakawa natives were very nice;
They gave the sailors food and spice.
Columbus sailed on to find some gold
To bring back home, as he’d been told.
He made the trip again and again,
Trading gold to bring to Spain.
The first American? No, not quite.
But Columbus was brave, and he was bright.”

Pickhit: I’ve noticed that some southeastern U.S. states, in what must be misguided, immature rebelliousness, gloss-over Columbus Day, previously celebrated on October 12th, the date he landed on our shores, universally across the land – and now on the second Monday – by renaming it shamefully as a “Professional Learning Day” while giving students the day off, ignoring it completely or otherwise denying pupils one of the most colorful and interesting holidays which celebrates the combining world and American (“the new world”) histories.
There was Ameriggo, Leif and Magellan, but only Columbus got the title of “first”.

morph verb
morphed; morphing; morphs
Definition of morph
transitive verb: to change the form or character of : TRANSFORM

I don’t follow the NFL like I used to ten years ago, but in the wake of the Antonio Brown saga, which was on every tele screen at local Pubs, I must ask these questions:
Has the definition of “rape” changed? Has the definition of “rape” morphed?
What exactly now is “sexual misconduct”? Is it flirting? Has the definition of “flirting” changed? Am I glad I am not growing up in this era? (Yes!)

Dig me, I am a man and writing from a man’s perspective because I am only hearing these complaints when I am out and about, under restaurant TV screens. One convo goes, “Men can’t help it if we have a nut sack and it produces urges we want to use!”

For what is worth, it seems now that every American woman of the past thirty years may have been or was “raped or “sexually molested” at some point in their distant past, said nothing about it until now, when the “climate” and mores have apparently changed in their favor, and when the guy becomes famous or rich (or both), then they come forward to ruin him. The latest I heard about is Demi Moore doing the #MeToo! Really?? I remember when the deep, gravelly-voiced actress first appeared on General Hospital like, forty years ago! She showed no signs of trauma on the set. Did she tell Bruce Willis about it?

In these instances, why not a civil, private convo years ago when it happened?

All my scores of life, when I heard the four-letter word, “rape” it conjured images of a sex-crazed,”Jack-the-Ripper”-style insane maniac, grabbing a random woman who was maybe walking alone down a darkened street, into a dimly-lit alley and ripping her clothes off in a violent struggle despite her screams and forcibly penetrating her private parts with his dick, in a most savage manner. Has this definition changed?

AND now, as maybe with Mr. Brown, another super-testosterone-charged athlete, we have a different dynamic. I hear the word “consensual” in the mix. Which leads me to believe that there was maybe some playful foreplay involved which led the guy to want more and at first the woman would go “No, don’t…stop..” And then it led to, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” or something similar. Hmmm… So when this modern female thought about it later, I guess she decided, “I didn’t want that to happen, Ewww…” (even though she kinda enjoyed it at the time?) and one thought led to another, like the foreplay itself, which when mixed with the climate of TV news, money and fame morphed the mindset into her speaking out, where she maybe wouldn’t have in the past.

Mr. Brown, why did you have this cute female as your “trainer”? Don’t tough footballers need a man to train them? That choice had UNhappy ending written all over it, from any logical man’s perspective – but these overpaid guys are not thinking with the same “head” as we mere mortal men, right?

I’ve always wondered why a man would stoop to the conduct of rape, when there are such beings as Hookers, and massage parlors (with “happy ending”) and numerable other ways to “get some” much more easily in life – especially if you got long green to spend. Most curiously, how can you maintain an erection when struggling with someone to put it IN? How? How? How? I’ve had “problems” putting it IN when we both wanted it! lol So tell me please, what exactly are the mechanics of “rape” in the past and these days? Please describe in detail for us, what happens in “sexual harassment”?

Traveling overseas earlier this decade, I overheard how most of the rest of the world thinks about America’s sexuality, “They are Puritans publicly and perverts privately.” In other words, hypocrites.

My favorite song by Marvin Gaye is “Sexual Healing”; it was the top of the charts. Do you mean to tell me that if it was released today, it would be associated with “rape”? If so, then America is a country many men need to leave, because there obviously has been an updated definition of “rape”, the memo and specifics about which were not distributed to American men at-large. “Healing”, is what I’m feeling we all need.

“Get up, get up, get up, get up
Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up

Ooh baby, now let’s get down tonight

[Verse 1]
Baby I’m hot just like an oven
I need some lovin’
And baby, I can’t hold it much longer
It’s getting stronger and stronger

[Chorus]
And when I get that feeling
I want Sexual Healing
Sexual Healing, oh baby
Makes me feel so fine
Helps to relieve my mind
Sexual Healing baby, is good for me
Sexual Healing is something that’s good for me

[Verse 2]
Whenever blue tear drops are falling
And my emotional stability is leaving me
There is something I can do
I can get on the telephone and call you up baby, and
Honey I know you’ll be there to heal me
The love you give to me will free me
If you don’t know the thing you’re dealing
Oh I can tell you, darling, that it’s Sexual Healing

(Get up, Get up, Get up, Get up)
Let’s make love tonight
(Wake up, Wake up, Wake up, Wake up)
‘Cause you do it right

[Bridge]
Baby I got sick this morning
A sea was storming inside of me
Baby I think I’m capsizing
The waves are rising and rising

[Chorus]
And when I get that feeling
I want Sexual Healing
Sexual Healing is good for me
Makes me feel so fine, it’s such a rush
Helps to relieve the mind, and it’s good for us
Sexual Healing, baby, it’s good for me
Sexual Healing is something that’s good for me
And it’s good for me and it’s so good to me
My baby ohhh

[Verse 3]
Come take control, just grab a hold
Of my body and mind soon we’ll be making it
Honey, oh we’re feeling fine
You’re my medicine open up and let me in
Darling, you’re so great
I can’t wait for you to operate

(Heal me my darling)
I can’t wait for you to operate

[Chorus]
When I get this feeling
I need Sexual Healing
Oh when I get this feeling
I need Sexual Healing
I gotta have Sexual Healing, darling
‘Cause I’m all alone
Sexual Healing, darling
‘Till you come back home

Please don’t procrastinate
It’s not good to masturbate”

“Damned smartphone!” lol

Pet Peeve number “5,000″…

Remember this?

My first “cellphone” and,

At least it did not intrude on my mood!

Neither did it remind me;

Harken to those days of sanity.

If you were born prior to 1989 you are saved;

Who can keep count these days?

Don’t you hate it when you text someone,

Then they call you right back before you finish?

If you wanted to TALK to them,

YOU would have called in the first place!

Or Don’t you get annoyed when

You are calling someone,

Their voice mail comes on and,

Just as you are wrapping up your voice-mail,

That person is CALLING you,

Without even having listened to your voice-mail?!

You could have just tex’d them!

What’s the use in their outgoing message?

I feel then like I should have hung up on myself!

Silly smart-phone configurations perpetuate,

Conflicting communications with intrusive settings,

Unfocused communication in the middle of calls!

With options to opt-out of the conversation,

Says Alexander Graham Bell,

“What the hell?”

Let us only hearken back to a Virgin who

Was my first lover;

Of flip cell phones.

I sent her a score of indigo flowers then ago,

When this instant communication didn’t happen

And a lonely “Blackberry” was the IN thing.

Even our cool beans President had one!

With the lack of annoyance,

He made leadership non-intrusive fun.

I’d rather hear your voice;

Email, sms/text or talking?

When I was a DJ on 98.7 KISS FM,

Our slogan slug line was,

“More Music, Less Talk”.

Today, it would be

“More texting, Less talk”.

[…to be continued to fix it…”]

In September of 2001, many things in my life were new: I was the new Nights (7 p.m. – midnight) man entertaining on a little AM radio station in Nashville, Tennessee. I’d do my show and then off I’d go to check out some local DJs in my new Music City. Mostly, I checked out Liquid Lounge (before it became “Elements”) till about 3 A.M., looking for new club DJ opportunities and then go a short distance from my new downtown, back to my new little two bedroom cottage.

This was still the pre-cell phone era and I only had a land line and cassette tape- based answering machine which I based in my other room, across the hall in my studio room from my bedroom and had an incredibly long cord, which allowed me to be on the “princess” phone all over the house and even out on my little front stoop. I didn’t have my first home computer yet and there were still pay phones everywhere!

So I’d sleep from like 4 a.m. until maybe noon, unless I had some special morning interaction to attend or a gig; such is the life of the second and third shift radio man and many other alternative hour workers.

Then the phone rang around 10 or 11 a.m. I guess, and I heard the machine come on in the other room, and maybe my friend, Monique’s voice say something as I slept – and ignored it. Soon, the phone rang another time and I recognized her voice again! At this point I picked it up and my friend Monique says, “Turn on the TV!” I’m like, “No, I’m sleeping…” or something to that effect. She insisted and then I fumbled around and found the remote to turn it on. What I saw I thought was a movie, in the purple haze of awakening. “Why you want me to watch this movie, Mo?” I must have asked. She said something like, “No! A plane hit the World Trade Center!!” I began to sit up in my bed and just about then, the second plane hit the other tower. Shock. At that moment, I knew that this was no movie.

As I watched the coverage that fateful afternoon, I’d almost forgotten that I had a “show” to do that evening – and the more I thought about it, the more I didn’t want to perform it. – I was bummed to the max! Calling my Mum in on Long Island, I asked could she smell the smoke and she said “Yes.” So I called my Program Director to ask him out of my show that night, but instead of empathy for my feelings, he replied, in, what I’ve learned is typical southern black American ignorance, “Aww man, its just a plane hit a building. G’wan in and do your show!” At that point, my respect for him, being in his position only because he was the station owner’s son, went from like and “eight” to a “one” on a scale of one to ten. How dare he condescend, knowing that my roots are at the base of the World Trad Center and having been in my house where I had a wall-sized poster of them and the whole southern tip of Manhattan above my bed!

Writing this now, I know that the rebel in me wanted to call out, but I think that my inner “Dan Rather” made me go in that evening, but not to do my usual “party” radio show. Instead, I opened-up the phones to my new Nashville local listeners, to let them air their impressions of the day’s attack. Many were initially sort of clueless, to my disappointment, but as my program grew into the evening, I remember that the discussions became more spirited and that many of my listeners knew that I was from there and expressed their empathy to me, if not for the national implications, for me as someone they only met through the radio who identified with New York City. It was the most solem show I remember in my professional radio career – I hardly played any music and we lived for the top of the hour network updates for five hours that night.

Last night, on the cusp of eighteen years later and trying to go to sleep, I wished I could listen to that show; probably taped it on a cassette which is likely in storage with much of my belongings from those days, my radio career having imploded with the advent of corporate ownership and automation, like those beloved towers fell.

In closing, I remind you to carry the message that we have to the young people in school now who have no recollection of that treacherous attack. It is super-important that we teach them the magnitude of that day, like the Pearl Harbor surprise attack was taught to us by our parent’s the generation.

Since 2016 or thereabouts, we as Americans have lost that unity that came about in the wake of those horrific and cowardly attacks. I close by asking you, my dear reader, to help bring back that sense of togetherness-of-purpose-umbrella, which we all gathered under after September 11, 2001.

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