"Return of The Abominable Snowpack Man"

Flirtatious: "How'd you like to try on my snow shoes for size?"

Real Mood: Advanced state of "TOLD YA SO!"

Prediction: Most of that snow will melt.

That's a 14,000 foot peak in the Rockies from 50 miles away. Still it's obvious there is a bunch of white stuff on the top of that mountain.

A few of my media friends knew this was coming.  I've gone on a rampage in newsrooms for decades over the annual winter snowpack measurement. Like lemmings, reporters and photographers follow this guy, Mike Gillespe, up to 11,300 feet(the last quarter of a mile on snowshoes).

We stand around in a clump while Mike jams his dipstick into the snow.  We are in rapt anticipation as he pulls us the dip stick and makes such incredible revelations as, "Things are looking pretty optimistic right now."

According to the Rocky Mountain News that's exactly what he said yesterday. Mike has convinced the media, at least newsroom managers, that this trip is big news for the entire west.  What Mike doesn't tell anyone is there are more than 600 electronic sensors all over the West that automatically provide the snowpack meansurements twenty four seven.

Some years Mike boldly uses words like "Drought," or "Flooding." But a guy that can con people in to joining him on his annual snow shoe trek is no dummy.  He always gets in a word or two like these quoted by Rocky yesterday, "They could be looking at severe water shortages IF things don't turn around."

For the record, things quite often do turn around.  I don't want to belabour (U.S. spelling of belabor went missing) (inside joke for regulars) this issue. The sequel seldom lives up to the original. I would refer you to Archived Posting titled "The Abominal Snowpack Man," dated June 17th, 2005.

I, too, don't wish to belabour the fact that all local media will arrive at Boulder Reservoir early tommorrow to chronicle an annual event.  Between 50 and 100 human beings, suffering from "Seasonal Affect Disorder," will stupidly strip down to near nakedness.  Then they will dance around like preening peacocks, after which they'll promptly jump into the one degree above freezing water. Most years a reporter gets overly involved in the story and leaps into frozen fame.

There is typically a large turnover in the list of regular reporters that cover both the "snowpack" and "polar bear" events.  For most of us, once was enough. 

I hope you have a great New Year's celebration. I gotta go watch me some football games.

Okay, it's a 500 millimeter telephoto lens. But it's still 50 miles away.  

Charge!

Flirtatious: "Don't let my 'horny' reputation scare you off."

Real Mood: Flirtatious

Prediction: One day a Rhino will learn to count to ten. ( I saw one count to five at a zoo once. No, really!)

In case I or Peggy 'Instant Message' any of you, don't be surprised if a goofy Rhinoceros greets you.  It's another one of those life enhancing extras AOL tosses into the package. Those of you old enough to remember the Groucho Marx show will remember the little game of , "say the secret word and win a hundred dollars?"

Well there are 18 secret words that If we inadvertantly type, will produce some bizarre "never gonna happen" Rhino expressions.   "A Rhino that's embarrassed?"  I don't think so. ( AOL offers  more Rhino expression options than it does human moods. Go figure.) 

I don't know if I've told you the whole story of my Rhinoceros connection, hence "prhinos" screen name?

Well it's one of those things that tells you in life that you've made it.  It's a nickname. Good or Bad a nickname acknowledges you exist.  You belong.

I picked up the label while I was in high school.  One's first assumption might be the closeness of an animal in name,  to my surname.  Reinertson.....Rhino? Well that makes sense.  But it wouldn't be accurate. 

I became Rhino when I was playing football.  I played right tackle and you might think, "oh, of course. He blocked like a rhino."

No!  But "Rhino" did have an athletic origin.

A bunch of my buddies were basketball players. Once in a while they would let me play in summer league games. My prowess in those games was to just go in and knock everybody down underneath the basket.  That would include my own team mates. 

"He plays like a ____Rhino."

So that's the origin of the nickname as I remember it.  It was a long time ago. What's clearer in my memory bank is what happened to that nickname. It expanded like a virus throughout my family. My sister had to live her entire high school years socially known as "Baby Rhino."   My parents became "Mama and Papa Rhino." And as a family, in many circles, we were simply known as "The Rhinos." Many people had no idea we would appear in a phone book known as Reinertsons. 

Only my older sister escaped the label.  She'd already graduated from high school and didn't get snared in the label trap.  ( I've never really asked her if she was relieved or felt left out. Well, Theda?) 

I've learned a great deal about Rhinos since that time. Without getting specific, let me tell you they are likely the most dramatic and enduring lovers on the planet. Strange reputation for what we think of as "frightening, charging beasts." 

Here's a little TV style tease for you.

"Would you believe the Rhinoceros is the World's Greatest Lover. Tune in on Valentine's day and find out WHY?"

Let me spice that up a little bit for you.  "It's a story you almost CAN'T tell on TV."

You might ask yourself why oriental cultures consider ground "Rhino Horn" to be an aprodisiac?

Anyway, Peggy and I travel the planet now collecting Rhinos. The beast really does inspire a wide range of artistic visions. You can do a lot with a head that big.

So that's the Rhino story. You get it for FREE. No CHARGE. 

Hard Times

Flirtatious: "Can I help you with that tire maam? Got my lug wrench right here?"

Real Mood: Catharsisticated

Prediction: Some media outlet will come up with a really bizzare choice for man or woman or pet of the year.

There will be people who will tell you there are easier and more satisfying ways to erase a "hard drive."  But don't you believe it.  At least wait until I tell you the whole story to decide.

We've been going through the house looking for things we should give or throw away.  There are chairs, pillows, shirts, blouses, AB workout rollers, room coolers and other stuff.

Among the "other stuff" category is an old (maybe three years) computer. Well, every time I try to give that thing away Peggy yells, "NOT until you change the hard drive. I don't want people getting into all our personal stuff."

We generally disagree on the level of interest anyone might have in our personal data.  Still, I always capitulate.  Well this time I'm getting ambitious.  I've watched technicians play inside of computers. I can identify a hard drive. And just in case, I ask Peggy to pull up a drawing of one on the NEW computer.  Just in case.

So I'm thinking I can probably just  find a way to get everything off it electronically.

If that doesn't work, I'll just pop the thing out of "The Tower" and replace it with a blank.  Then if anybody really wants the thing they can have a fresh start.

Well it doesn't take long to discover I "KNOW NOTHING' about bulk erasing a hard drive.  So I must move on to option two.  I unscrew a few screws, preparing to just lift that "little puppy" out of there.  Well you know what? They don't make that easy!

Soon the screws are all over the floor. Disc drives, and circuit boards are strewn throughout the kitchen.  (Don't ask me why I pick the kitchen.) Finally I have a really good view of the hard drive and I reach in for the final "Yank."  Well, I yank, and I yank, and I yank. Nothin'.  Maybe that's why they call it the "HARD drive.

(Let's pause here for a side note.  No matter how well you plan and work, holidays seldom play out smoothly.  There are always frustrations.  And since this is the end of the year, we genetically tend to get introspective. While we count our blessings, we also mull over a year's worth of frustrations. We need a catharsis. We need some extreme physical, emotional event to get rid of the "baggage.")

So to top all your other 2005 frustrations you can't even disassemble a computer.  Metal, and straps and screws, and circuit boards are dancing before you like banshees. You think you'll go mad.  Then it happens.  You say to yourself, "Paul, go get a HAMMER."

Still in the kitchen, I am banging away at the hard drive trying to loose it from it's moorings. Finally I am at least able to wiggle it like a tooth that doesn't want to come out.  Then one full swing with a follow through whack and little unscrewable screws go flying. And seconds later I am standing there with a hard drive in my hand.

"See dear? Looks just like the picture."

"Yeah, but it still has all our personal information on it? What are you going to do about that?"

I'm not sure any data can have survived my whacking.  But I want her to feel secure.  

"Take it out in the garage and bang on it while it's on the concrete."

Well, that's not a bad idea except I'm sure it will crack the concrete. She has no idea how hard this thing really is.

 So anyway I'm obediently heading out to the garage.  As I step down to the floor, I accidentally step on some of that packing plastic that goes off like firecrackers.

Ah, insight! Brilliant Idea!  I will lay that HARD drive down on the plastic.  I will then raise my hammer high over my head.  With all my might I will bring its iron face on to the surface of the hard drive.  KABOOM, KAHARUNK, SLUGHBLUY, CHUHKING, BLASTOLEUM.

Oh, the release! Oh, the joy of my own force blasting a Hard drive to smitherenes. Oh, the surge of blood that rushes to my brain as the Hard drive begins to give up the (data) ghost.

Watch the tension fly away. See the warm, tender smile return. See the love. Now we are ready for what 2006 has to give.  Bring it on.

Oh, by the way. Good news for you who gave up working on your cars when they started putting in circuit boards and hiding spark plugs? Peggy and I just discovered it's possible for us to replace light bulbs.  She needs a brake light. I need a turn signal.  Took us ten minutes total on our toyotas.

So here's what I'm gonna do for you.  You have one of those bulbs go out? Don't call your mechanic.  He's got a minimun he has to charge to cover his overhead (aka pool).

You just call me. I'll drive to you. I'll change that bulb in a tenth the time. I'll charge half the price. And I swear to you.  With any luck I won't have to use the hammer.  

Merry Christmas

Okay. Not that it's unusual, but I'm humbled by "sighlemacabba." She reminds me of those first hours of a snow storm. There is that quiet peaceful blanket that gently covers us.  But, you know, I can only appreciate that now? That's because that quiet, peaceful blanketing was always interrupted by the dreaded phone call.

"It's snowing. Get your _____in here now!"

Now I can usually just sit at home, look out the window, pause, and say, "hmmm. Nice!"

Hope you have a wonderful day blanketed with snow or sunshine.

" 'Twas the Night Before Christmas."

Flirtatious: "Santa! You get me that Mercedes and we might be talking a little more than milk and cookies when you slide down that chimney."

Real Mood: Retroactively relieved.

Prediction: Some TV reporter will be standing out  in the middle of a blizzard tommorrow, wishing she'd listened to her mother's advice to become a financial advisor.

" 'Twas the Night before Christmas, and all around the house, most creatures were stirring, save maybe a grouse."

What's the deal with everybody wanting a "White Christmas?"  You know there is a reason most of us have migrated to temperate climates.

It's 60 degrees here today and I hear a lot of people whining about not having any snow.  Now I've got nothing against snow that stays in the mountains on ski slopes. I think snow in wilderness areas where Moose and Snow Hares thrive is cool.  I like to watch them on the National Geographic Channel.

I like snow in Alaska, Norway, Greenland, Antarctica with those cute little penguins. Those pictures look really great on calendars.

I know it smacks of sacrilege, but I don't like "White Christmases." If you spend any time doing TV news you might line up on my side. First of all?  Unless you are a seasoned anchor with a great attorney, you'll be working Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day.  If it's snowing you'll be out freezing critical body parts trying to smile on camera.  If you are doing live shots, your lips will freeze up. Few people will have any idea what you are saying.

People who don't like you will be taping your stories because you will look disgusting.  Your hair will be in wet ringlets, your eyes will be half closed to keep the snow from freezing up your pupils. Ice cycles will be hanging down from your nose. No matter how hard you try, you will not look happy. And while you're standing there with the tips of your fingers about to fall off, your feet numb, and your bladder about to explode some anchor says, " Well, Paul, why don't you give us a little tour, and show us how to survive a blizzard?"

Well my idea of how to survive a blizzard? Don't have one.  Have 60 degree weather with birds chirping, cattle lowing, geese munching, people singing Christmas carols with thawed lips. I love doing stories on Winter drought.

All my genes are Nordic, but my early life experience is  Mediteranian. I don'twant to go Ice Fishing in December. I want to go surfing, maybe deep sea fishing. While some of you in those warm Clime's dream of a "White Christmas?"  I dream of a brown one.  I'll take my Christmases in New Zealand, thank you. I'll take Christmas in Southern California, Texas, Florida where a Tee Shirt and a Light Jacket will get me through winter.

Let me rail just a bit more.  White, you know, is the absence of color. Why should that be a situation desired. I'm not sure who I'm talking to here. I think it's those of you who are wishing for a "White Christmas," who've never had one. Stop it! Count your blessings. Be happy with your circumstances. No snow in Winter is good. Watch all the wildlife taking their Winter baths.

 Enjoy walking to your car. You won't  have to scrape ice off the windows. Your ignition won't grind, begging for mercy. You won't slide into a ditch on your way to work.

One of my personal gripes about a White Christmas is having to "layer." I feel claustrophobic.  And I end up with so many pockets and things to put in them?  I typically lose half of them until I can start emptying those pockets in Spring.

But let's forget about me and my "White Gripiness" for a bit.  Let's consider the plight of that wonderful man we all wait for this time of year.

Kris Kringle hasn't seen the better side of 30 degrees all year long.  Then we ask him to GlobeTrot at supersonic speed without a roof on his vehicle.  We ask him to set his sleigh runners down on icy shingles that at any moment could send Rudolph plunging to a frozen earth that will not give.

Presents will be scattered all over the street. Donner and Blitzen will be lying there in pools of blood, while paramedics speed read their reindeer anatomy handbooks.

Meantime at station W H I T?

Assignment editor to Producer:

"'Dju hear that on the scanner?"

"What?"

"Santa and his reindeer crash and burn at 30th and Oak."

"Holy ___! Get a photog out there.  Call Paul at home, get him out of bed and on his way.  THIIIS ISSS BIIIGG."

"I'm on it."

"Oh, man. We're going to get an Emmy for this one."

"Sorry Paul, you're closest."

"What'd 'e say?"

" He's not happy!"

"Tough. That's why he gets paid the big bucks."

This could go on for a while but I'll wrap it up with a true story.

 They had a huge airport fuel farm explosion and fire here. It went on for days in the middle of a blizzard.  It came my day to do reports for stations around the country. I'm set to do one for a station in Chicago. Their producer sees me on camera and says, "you can't wear that jacket. It looks just like our competition's. You need to take it off."

It's ten degrees, five below zero with the wind chill. The snow combined with ash is blowing laterally right into my face, and she says, "you need to take it off!"

Well I muttered, grumbled, cursed my fate, and then took off the only jacket I had with me.  I blabbered on the air with frozen lips and MAY have been looking into the camera lens.  I have no idea. There is no way any one could have understood what I said.  But I understood the Chicago producer's response after the live shot.

"Hey, Paul, that was fantastic.  You just looked miserable."

Now I wasn't going to get into this, but sometimes I can't help myself. I've never heard anybody talk about the snow in Bethlehem?

I've got to get to bed. I need to be ready should Santa have any problems.

Don't forget the cookies and WARM milk.

 

It just Dawned on me!

A few things just "dawned" on me, but not "out of the blue." There are always outside influences that inspire insight.  My influences come from PaulsModestMusings feedback.

Without being condescending I need to remind myself that not everyone agrees with me. In fact a percentage of folks could care less what I think.

I can't assume that everybody is sitting on the edge of their seats waiting for Paul's next muse.

I need to remind myself of a lesson learned in journalism. We all hurt some people sometime. With our individual interests and agendas, that's just a given.

I've become surprised at the need for people to put other people (me in this case) into a category. 

Finally (at least for now), one needs to assume there are people who think you and your mind ought to be subject to some intense surveillance.

Tis the season to reflect, eh?

Advice? Don't BLOG if you've got thin skin. Some of my strongest critics have been my wife and sisters.  I think they just respond habitually. And they are all in fact, at the same time, my biggest boosters. And I am their's as well.

Recently I was talking with my long time (30 years) friend, Jeff Stroh. We've had plenty of time to sardonically explore each other's brains.  On reading my BLOG I doubt there were any surprises. But in a recent conversation he says, "sorry I don't get the "Flirtation" bit. That tells me I need to repeat myself once in while. Odd because that is a lesson learned early on in Education.

So for Jeff, and any other casual visitors, it goes like this.

AOL, bless their little soul, offers this BLOG space for free. However, their generosity comes at a price. You are sort of required to name the "mood" that currently possesses you.   Problem is they only give you a dozen choices. So in the most vicious sarcasm I can muster, I pick "Flirtatious" every time. Then by following that up with my real mood I am hopefully expanding AOL's  "Mood Pool."  Odds?

In case anyone is wondering about the predictions?  I predicted some earthquakes by chance, even nailing down the Richter Scale number. So, hey, if I've got the gift?  Okay, what's next.

Without being specific you can't do this kind of thing with out stepping on some toes. Those who "really" know me are aware that would never be on purpose. But every word ever written or spoken carries emotional baggage. And if we get too careful about people's sensibilities we don't talk at all.

I was talking to one of my soulmate cousins, Errol Woolen, yesterday.  He says, "You blogging?"

"Yeah."

"Kind of an Andy Rooney thing?"

"I guess."

I suppose I ought to be flattered. But I think Andy's "TOO" old. And I think he borders on "Bitter." I hope no one sees this BLOG that way. And I hope Andy is not offended. Whew! See what happens when you try to be careful?

Finally I've heard from an old high school chum who says she too has rambling, seemingly, non-connected thoughts.  However, she feels it's much safer to keep them to herself.  She thinks she has some relatives that might want to find her a comfortable room somewhere.

Well, here's where I'm lucky. I don't believe I have any relatives who would test higher on the sanity ladder than myself.  We are all meandering around the planet with similar idiosyncrasies. If you put one of us away, you might as well put us all away.  Just don't put us in the same room with Andy Rooney.

I've discovered a new joy in life BLOGGING. You find new soulmates. I hear from "sighlemaccaba" a lot. And I always like what I hear. Thanks!

Anyway, those are some of the things that have "dawned" on me lately. Feel free to share.

For the record the "dawn" photo is real.  No Photo Shop. No touch up. It was "Miraculous" at a time of year those things are supposed to happen. If it's your religion? Merry Christmas. Whoever you are?  Hope Santa is good to you!

Some days are Diamonds

Flirtatious: " Come on up to my place and I'll show you my "Bald Eagle" etchings."

Real Mood: Vindicated

Prediction: Now that we've had three planes land with faulty gear and everybody survive?  The next one won't get nearly as much coverage.

Let's get this on the table.  It's my birthday and I'll go on the record and tell you the year I was born the average annual household income in this country was under $2,000.00.  Quit lookin' for more zeroes.  The average price of a house that family could live in was under 4,000.00. Quit lookin' for more goose eggs. If you really want to know my age you'll just have do your homework.

Of course I'll never forget my age on this birthday 'cause it was pretty special.  I remember telling Peggy on my birthday about eight years ago that I saw a Bald Eagle. It was just about a mile from the house.   Her reply, which has some level of accuracy, is, "every time you see a bird you think it's an eagle."

Well today Peggy gave me my choice of where to have my "birthday breakfast." (I have a heck of a time staying up for "birthday dinner.")  I had decided on this quaint little place that serves something called "Notanomelette." But as we were enroute some strange voice told me, "Don't go there. Go to the Perfect Landing."  So I did. 

My reputation is salvaged.  About two miles from home it is Peggy who espys our living national symbol. Just sitting there on a post looking for a prarie dog snack was "Old Baldy" himself. She says, "Look at that huge bird.  I think it's....It is...It's an eagle....It's a bald eagle!"

"Yup, told you they were around here."

Now you need to know I'm no stranger to these majestic birds. My photographer friend Jen and I got to participate in the banding of three chicks some years ago.  But everybody knew where the Eagle's nests were. There was no surprise, no challenge.

So....instead of heading off to breakfast I think....odds are incredibly against us, but?

I say, "suppose we try to go home, get the camera and tripod, and drive back here and try to get a picture of THE bird. You know nobody is going to believe us if we don't?"

"Yes, yes, yes," she says.  "Turn around."  And you need to know that is not like Peggy at all.  So we do the round trip, switch to the telephoto lens on the way, and by golly the "old bird" is still there.  Never got as close as we wanted, but close enough you can clearly make him out.  We got about 10 shots off  while he was on the post, and just one of him in flight.  The pictures are not going to win any photo contests. But next time either one of tells you we saw a "Bald Eagle?"

Our condolences to the family survivors of the devoured prarie dog.

My birthday was filled out with breakfast at the Perfect Landing, a field trip to see TV Chopper pilot Rich Westra ( I didn't know it, but it was Peggy's first close up look at a helicopter), a brisk aerobic walk through a muddy golf course, a steak sent in the mail by my step-daughter Rhonda, and some huge undeserved but desired concoction from "ColdStone."( If you don't have one in your neighborhood it's an ice cream parlor where they tenderize your ice cream with a sledge hammer before they hand it to you.)

I'm not going to sit here and tell you it was the "Best Birthday" of my whole life. ( My short and long term memories don't allow me to rank things over a week's period of time.)  But I can guarantee you this.  It was better than my 21st birthday where I ended up going to see a movie by myself.  It was better than my 30th which I was sure was the average life span of  that time. And thanks to "Old Baldy" I am going to remember which one I just had.

Some days are diamonds.  And that's not a clue.  You'll still have to do your homework.

"Happy Birthday to me. I'm so glad I'm ____ three."  Tee Hee!

 

"What's good for the goose?"

Flirtatious: "Like them tail feathers, do you, Big Boy?"

Real Mood: Flighty

Prediction: We'll see and hear stories this week about credit card debt, holiday weight gain, most requested toy of the season,  recycling Christmas trees, and office Christmas parties.

"Oh? You've already seen them?"

Here's a word to ponder. RECIDIVISM  The most common use of the term relates to criminals just doing the same crimes over and over again. They do their time, get out of prison, and just go right back to the crime. And over and over again, they do the time.

But in it's purest form RECIDIVISM just means returning over and over again to a previous behavior. And that seems to be what we do in journalism. In my last entry I predicted there would be a whole bunch of stories aired this week on some fairly typical holiday themes.  Well, and I'm not joking, I surfed the T.V. the next morning and saw every single one of them.

Over the years I developed a little of my own recidivist behavior I'd like to share with you. I can't think of a single one of my journalist years I didn't work in a story on geese.

They are hard to ignore this time of year. They gather in huge gaggles as they migrate.  They get in their little 'V' formations and all 'honk' in unison.

To tell you the truth I really had pretty much put them in the back of my mind the past few years.  Then Peggy came home after tennis one night and says, "we've got to go out by the airport at 5 p.m. tonight and watch the geese. I've never seen so many in my life."

Well that set off my recidivism like a firecracker. I grabbed my Nikon and away we went.  By the time we got to their evening resting place, it was too dark to shoot. But the fever had set in. So at 5 A.M.  this morning I start wondering if I should get up and go get pictures of them waking up. Think about it. I'm kind of retired. It's 5 A.M. It's 9 degrees outside.  There is enough wind it likely feels like 1 degree. But the geese are calling (aka honking).   

I got some incredible pictures by my standards. I know I can't show them all to you.  But recidivism loves company. So I'm going to share some information with you about geese you may or may not know.

First of all they are thriving.  I don't think any goose family is threatened at present. While as a rule they migrate, they don't all do the round trip thing.  They tend in large numbers to take up residence around any metropolitan area with a lot of grass. (Why fly down to Mexico when you can munch on blue grass all year long.)  They adore golf courses. And that grass runs through goose digestive systems like paper through a shredder. I've done a lot of stories with "Joggers" and "Golfers" infuriated with the proliferation of "Goose Poop."

If you are looking for geese at night in the winter, look for a body of water that doesn't totally freeze.  They like to sleep in the middle of the pond 'cause "Wily Coyote" can't get to them there.

If you want to catch a goose wait until Spring when they are molting. For about a month they all become EMUs. They can't fly.
But here's a WARNING! First of all they can waddle about 20 miles an hour. And they are incredible fighters.  I've seen many a macho man get the "crap" beat out of him by a ticked off goose.  The professional wildlife people use nets.

I know all this 'cause I used to cover a local spring "goose round up" every year.  The Division of Wildlife would round up a couple thousand geese and ship them off to other states that ( bless their wildlife loving hearts) didn't have their fair share. (It was never mentioned that those other states didn't have enough geese to blow away with their shotguns.)

Well I'm not going to tell you everything I know about geese. If I did, then what would I talk about next year. A good "recidivist" must protect some of his territory.

Oh, one more thing.  In an earlier posting I may have mentioned I ate my first goose this year. ( I never name my geese)  I'm not kidding. This is no joke.  Goose does not taste like chicken.

Pat your Head and Rub your Tummy

Flirtatious: "Mind if I drink my coffee while we kiss?"

Real Mood: Multi-pronged

Prediction: Stories will be done this next week on "Putting Christ back in Christmas"; Gifts being stolen from Mall parking lots; Feeding the Homeless; The constitutionality of Manger scenes on public sites; "Kwanza"; "Hanukkah"; Jews filling in for Christians at the office; A family burnt out of it's home and all it's presents destroyed; Tracking Santa Claus from the North Pole; Cutting your own Christmas tree; Christmas light safety. And a whole bunch more.

SONICARE can send me a check if it likes, but I am giving them this publicity free of charge or obligation.  I do believe, however, that the BLOGs of the World are going to eventually suck up a lot of the "Ad Revenue Pie" with casual product mentions. I mean the movies get a lot of wampum just for showing the PEPSI machine. (No checks PEPSI. I'm not a cola man and couldn't in good conscience endorse your product.)

 But I'm off message here, which I hope, oddly will become the point here this evening. 

We didn't call it multi-tasking at the time, but we used to marvel at those amongst us who could effectively do two things at once. Patting one's head while rubbing one's tummy is just one example. Today two things are nothing. We've been bamboozled into believeing we can concentrate on any number of tasks at one time.

In my Broadcast Journalism Television class I challenge the students to make sense of what they are hearing or seeing on any one of the Cable News Channels.  In case you've never given this a shot, see if you can watch everything on the screen for ten minutes, while listening to everything that is being said in that same time period. Then test yourself. What did you learn? In case you've never thought much about it, here is what you are being asked to absorb.  In addition to the anchor, the reporter and any video they are referring to, you are being asked to watch a CRAWL. That's a ticker tape like message running along the bottom of the screen. It typically is telling an entirely different story than the anchor or reporter. 

There should be no doubt which media outlet you are getting your information from. That's thanks to a little identifying logo in one of the corners of the screen called a BUG.

Generally just above the bug there is something I don't really have a namefor. I'll have to ask.  But it's a small character generating device that is alternately giving you STOCK MARKET NUMBERS and the TIME in at least two time ZONES.

Underneath the anchors or other faces appearing on the air you'll find the CG (chyron graphic) or FONT which visually identifies who you're watching and/or listening to.

Now above the anchor you'll often find a fancy sign  that let's you know visually what the heck the anchor is talking about.  That's called an OTS, or "over the shoulder" graphic.

 Now if this is a really big story a huge BANNER sweeping across the screen may emerge announcing a THEME.

As far as I can tell the only reason networks (and local stations) are giving us all this information at once is because they CAN. The research is telling them the current human mind cannot absorb all this stuff at once. Attention efficiency suffers in every area up there. Our species may evolve to the point this makes sense, but we ain't there yet.

So what does that have to do with Sonicare? Well here is a toothbrush that pretty much takes over the business of getting the gunk out of all the little nooks and crannies of our mouths. So I'm thinking it's time to do a little multi-tasking.

Holding the brush in place with one hand, I employ the other to pick up my deodorant stick and apply it under the opposing arm. I then switch my tooth brush hand.  I put the vibrating brush in an area my dentist says I've got a little too much plaque.  Then I apply deodorant under the opposite arm at which time I discover I can actually bite down on the Sonicare holding it in place freeing up my other hand.  With that hand I hold my aftershave bottle with the thumb and little finger. I use my index and middle finger to unscrew the top.  Once off, while still brushing my teeth, I splatter on the aftershave. Mind you I'm still  applying the deodorant to the underside of that alternate arm.

Then I look in the mirror and notice I've not yet parted my wet hair.  So I put the aftershave bottle over into the hand holding the deodorant. That frees up the other hand to grab the comb. A few quick sweeps through my locks and by golly the deed is done.

Look how many things I could do at once which I used to have to do in sequence. Now that's multi-tasking.

"How do I look honey?"

"Are you kidding? You got a razor cut just below your lip. You got some white gunk caked on the side of you mouth. You got a whole glump of hair sticking up in the back.  What's that stain on your shirt? Your shirt tail is half in and half out. Make up you mind if the collar is going to be up or down? You need to make a choice! Is there a reason you don't use all the belt loops in your pants? You're not going to work looking like that!"

"Oh Yeah, well I'll bet you can't hop on one leg, rub your belly, and pat your head at the same time. Well can you?"

Remember when a digit was a toe?

Flirtatious: See me? Text or IM? Cam on?

Real Mood: Scrambled

Prediction: We will be forced to return to calling fingers and toes fingers and toes.

So a few of you have asked where I've been, and what's up, and why haven't I posted in a week, and is anything wrong, and am I mad at you, and am I working on something big, and did I get hit with a  computer virus? Well, in a word, no!

I did get a virus, but it was of the human variety and I got tired of sneezing over the keyboard.  But I'm back.

This is finals week. It's a week I love because I learn so much from final presentations.  Today I watched and  listened to projects in my Intro class that are kind of freaky. A group working on media convergence got us all up to speed topically on new mixed media developments.  It was their group opinion that we are getting very close to having just about everything we need in our laps. We'll watch MPEG movies in our sunglasses. Everything we could possibly want to say or have said, sing or have sung, read or be read  to any and or everyone will be on our cell phones. (Then I come home and watch a network feature on using cell phones instead of credit cards to buy just about anything in Japan.  Now I'm not talking about calling some company and giving them your credit card number and expiration date.  No, in Japan you just pass your cell phone over a scanner and the deed is done. Word is US Phone companies are in the labs working overtime playing catchup.  Stop the planet. I want to get off.)

To their credit and my jubilation,  the students are clearly worried about what all this digitization is doing to our socialization skills. At least they're thinking about it. I think we are going to have to look up from our laps or we'll go mad. And if we do?  I think it might be fun. I still remember being in my Cardiologist's office and asking him about some new drug I'd heard about.  He picks up his PDA, pushes a few buttons, and then says, "let's let them get a few more trials before we mess with it. It's really new." And then he adds, "Hey look! That new Angelina Jolie movie opens this week. Boy she's hot."

Maybe, just maybe, if we use it and share it right, all this "1984" stuff will heighten our socialization. But I think we're going to have to be thinking about it to make it happen.

We were out playing with my digital camera this afternoon. And I'm thinking, " I can take the digital shots, run home and download them. Then with PhotoShop I can crop them, sharpen the focus, perfect the color balance, and then erase them. Why keep "em? Where's the challenge? 

But then I remember all the shots I've missed with my SLR Camera because I'd run out of film, or light, or lens. I was out of film when a Golden Eagle dropped down ten feet in front of me, wrapped it's talons around a ten foot long snake, and lifted into the air.  I mean I had my camera in my hand. My eye was on the eye piece. All I've got to show for it is the tale I'm telling you now.

 Now I can just shoot to my  "heart's content." I, me, can get  the shot I want, the angle I've been imagining, the light just where I need it. I can actually have my lens say what I want it to say. I could have had 30 shots of that eagle.

That has to be the secret. We've got to keep the human heart in all this stuff. We just have to. And my observation is that so far there are still more students with digital hearts than with heartless digits. I hope it stays that way in their world.

I won't be so serious tommorrow. :)

Modest Pride?

Flirtatious: "What's it do to you when I cross my eyes like this?"

Real Mood: Pre-Nostalgic

Prediction: When Kathryn tells the kids to get out of the pool, they'll get out of the pool.

You're looking at one of my Announcing students, Kathryn. ( I have her verbal permission to use the picture.) I'd like to tell you that she came to me a shy little flower bud. And with the proper attention she has now blossomed into the  "Venus Fly Trap" you see above.   But you'd guess I was lying, and I would be lying. 

Kathryn, when we were all pretending to be Demosthenes, projecting our treatises over the cascading waters of the Platte River, could be heard 6 blocks away with the roar of planes and trains in between.  Kathryn will never suffer from depression, hypertension, or any of the diseases we attribute to holding it all inside. Whatever she decides to do in life, we're going to know she's in the room.

I don't  know if it would feel good to be able to say, "taught the girl everything she knows." I don't think so. I do know that would be false pride.

What I'm kind of proud of, is setting a tone that lets Kathryn show us what she can do. 

But what makes me feel both sad and glad this time of year, has nothing to do with pride. It's witnessing the growth of each and every student, of their own initiative. I'm gobsmacked. To see potential energy become enertia is pretty special.

This was the last day of regular class.  We warmed up our voices  with everybody offering a new sound we hadn't shared before. Kathryn does this great dolphin squeal.  Ricki Lee comes up with this strange thing you do with your thumb and index finger. It makes your voice sound like it's trying to break through helium.

They never disappoint me. They are the teachers. I'm the student. 

It's going to be a week now before I see them all again for their final exam. Some of them I may never see again after that. I can't tell you how sad that is.

Let the pre-nostalgia begin.

I just hope Kathryn doesn't change her mind and hire a lawyer. I'm not sure I have a witness to her tacit approval to include the picture.

WARNING: Kathryn can be a very attractive young woman unless her date lies about his age. Do that? Prepare to run!

Stow the Tank Tops

 

Flirtatious: "You know you look just as cute in that flannel shirt as you do in your tank top?"

Real Mood: Less congested

Prediction: Katie Couric will crash and burn if she takes that evening news gig. I'm sure it's all based on focus group data where they asked all the wrong questions. I'll be happy to be wrong.

"How Cold Is It?"

"It's so cold I'm puttng my head in the refrigerator to warm up."

A "group groan" would be appropriate. I just wanted to make one up, and that's the best I can do right now.

I exchanged e-mails with my graduate friend Sarah Williams. Sarah is anchoring and reporting in Fargo, make that Bismarck, North Dakota. I broke my own homework rule. I assumed Fargo without checking myself. While certainly a small community, we may be able to look towards Bismarck (and maybe Fargo too)  for a solution to the energy crisis.  Sarah tells me it's so cold there!" "How cold is it Sarah?" "Why it's so cold people just turn on their car engines and leave them running." OPEC is not the problem. It's Bismarck and maybe Fargo, too.

When the roads get icy, why is it that SUV drivers don't notice? Why is it they are the ones I see in a ditch on top of the Ford Focus they slid into?

I predicted last entry that meteorologists are going to start using "wind chill factors" in their reports.  It was a pretty easy prediction. Half the country is in a deep freeze right now. I don't really mind weather people using the "wind chill factor" in their reports.  I do mind when they try to explain it to me. I also have no interest in grasping metric conversions. True confessions time.  I got  "C"s in all my high school math classes, a "C" in chemistry and a "D+" in physics. (the teacher told me he gave me the plus 'cause he thought I had potential.)

Skipping ahead to freshman in college and an apptitude test. Results?  High interest and potential in complex math. Low interest and potential in word fluency. Hmmm?

I actually got a B in statistics when I was working on my  "teaching credential" in California.  So here I am, rookie teacher at Warren High School. I've just rushed to the teacher's lounge after giving my first exam. I carefully arrange the number scores out on a piece of paper, and then had an early onset of Paul'sHeimers. I lean to my left. In a tone I'm sure exposes  my anxiety I ask the man sitting nearest me, "Excuse me can you help me out? I'm trying to remember the formula for the co-efficient of reliability?"

There were a few seconds of stunned silence and then the entire lounge population broke into eardrum puncturing laughter. Rumor is they still laugh about it at social gatherings. It's nice to be remembered for something, I guess.

Anyway, some of you may want to know all that stuff. For me, just keep your old formulas and tell me how cold I'm going to feel today. I'll fill in the blanks with "word fluency."

I drove by that dorm under construction with  it's highway ramp view today. It's even more bizarre when you see all the snowy slop from the highway flying towards the pent house windows. My advice? Don't sign a lease, site (sight) unseen.

"It 's so cold I can't see out my dorm room window."

Whew! We made it.

Flirtatious: "I think that story deserves a big kiss, don't you?"

Real Mood: Who cares? I gotta cold.

Prediction: Meteorlogists will start using the wind chill factor in their reports.

So the fall TV ratings period is over. Stations and networks will soon start easing up on the promotions and teases.  Main anchors will start taking vacations. They'll be running out the "time off" door right behind the news director and general manager.  If holidays are really important to you? Be a news director, a general manager, or sales manager.

If you're looking for stories to do with a short staff, here's a suggestion. Another "media made myth" drove me to do this one twice. You always hear that this can be a very sad time of year for people who are alone.  Logic would lead us to the conclusion that there will be a high number of suicides between Thanksgiving and New Year's day.  Well, at least by the numbers in the past, that's not true. On the two occasions I was assigned that story, turns out people were not sad. Turns out they were mad. Homicides go way up. Suicides actually go down.

Now you shouldn't assume that's still the case.  Check the numbers, and if they match up, you'll have a sad holiday story no one else will have.  On  a personal note level, this may not be the best time of year to buy someone a "gag gift."

I had sound bites in both stories from shrinks that say in essence, "suicides come in the Spring when people's expectations are not realized." Go figure. Let's see. Spring? Doesn't it usually  start about a week after April 15th? This is starting to make sense.

This is always a good time of year to test out new talent on the air.  Look for a lot of unfamiliar faces. If your looking for something to do, keep track of the new ones.  See how many of them are still around in the spring. Let's see, that's about a week after April 15th, isn't it? 

If you see me first today, turn and run in the opposite direction. That's not because I'm angry and carry a big stick.  It's because I'm sick. Anything here your read and don't understand can be attributed to the effects of Benedryl.

If you're a student I'm going to make it easy for you. I'll avoid you. This is final exam, final project time, isn't it? I'm no dummy. Well at least not all the time.  

That reminds me. Want a suggestion on how to silence a politician? I was in the middle of one of these dreaded colds while being assigned to talk to a governor about something. As we sat down a few feet from each other I suggest, " don't kiss me." Was it the threat of the kiss, or getting a cold that made him mute? I suppose that's one answer we'll take to our graves. 

Bird Brains

Flirtatious: "Fly me to the moon, and let me blah, blah,blah,blah,blah"

Real Mood: Assumptive

Prediction: The price of gas will go up a week before Memorial day.

It's cold here. That's clear to me even before I leave the house or get in or out of the car.  How do I know?  I'm just an amateur, but bird behavior, by my own observation, makes some birds the best meteorologists in town.

I look up on a power line and there they are. They're all lined up like they are about to start a coordinated "Rockettes" high kick routine. This only happens when it's cold.  Could electricity be warming their little tootsies?  Are they all cuddled up to each other to share body heat? They're not as dumb as we think sometimes.  It tells me, however, to make sure the parka I buy isn't stuffed with the feathers of a species that tends to sit on power lines. It's really neat to watch them all take off at once.

Some things should not be revisited. A person should not ask college students to tell you what they (unfair generalization) did on their "Winter Break." You listen to their (sweeping generalization) stories and wonder how you lived past your 20's. I'm always a little amused they (gross representation) believe they invented drinking, violence and sex. (Did I mis something?) My upcoming New Year's resolution will be to work on my fake "Shocked" response.  

Why would anyone build a high rise dormitory with windows, when the only view from said windows, is of the concrete siding of a highway off-ramp?  Just asking? It's not like the ramp came along later.  It was there before some genius starting designing the building. There is probably something I don't know or understand properly.

I do know that birds warming their feet on power lines appear to me to be a tad brighter than some architects.

Turkey Wrap

Flirtatious: "I wanted to buy you that tennis bracelet you love so much, but I couldn't get on line today. Something about Cyber Monday?"

Real Mood: Feisty

Prediction: Cyber Monday will not be the busiest online shopping day of the year.

On CBS Sunday morning Bill Giest starts his piece with, "Thanksgiving is the busiest travel time of the year." Do your homework Bill. 

Someone on CNN used "gone missing" three times in a short story. I'll tell you what "went missing!" What went missing was the use of the word "disappeared!"

CNN has been good about dropping the use of the myth about the day after Thanksgiving being the busiest shopping day of the year. However, they have replaced it with the Saturday before Christmas being the busiest shopping day of the year.  Yes, in some years.  But that can't be consistent. I won't insult anybody with an explanation.  We seem to thrive on labels, I guess.

And the myths just keep comin'.  Now we've got "CYBER MONDAY," the Monday after Thanksgiving,  the busiest online shopping day of the year. Let's all clear our throats in unison.

In TV video rules. National coverage of a total of 40 lbs of the supreme court facade falling down and maybe in the middle of the night injuring a bat?  Well, they had pictures and easy access to those pictures.

An accident in California with two fatalities? My apologies to those directly involved. I'm not unmoved. I do care.  But how many two fatality accidents do you think took place across the country yesterday? Ah, but this one came with pictures, including the Greyhound logo dog on it's side. 

One more knit picking gripe and I'll adjust my attitude.  Miles O'Brien , morning CNN anchor is openly being Scroogian because, and I paraphrase, " I'm grumpy 'cause I just got back from  vacation." Why did he get vacation during the rating period? Nobody else did. He ought to be dancing in the aisles because Ted and company gave him a little time off.  Or, then again, maybe he should be a little worried he was given that time off.  I'm sure there's a lot I don't know.  Just thought I'd "stir up the ashes" a bit.

Back to pictures making the difference. Like all available tools in electronic journalism, pictures can be good or bad or anything in between. But they are a must. And they make the difference. And your work will always be different and/or better if you are taking a look around you to see what's there.  Take a look at the picture above. Where is that anyway? Out in some rugged open space in Florida? It's actually in Colorado about 100 feet off a deserted east-west runway at an abandoned airport. Stare at the picture a minute and imagine writing to the picture. How could you use it in stories on abandoned airports, urban wildlife areas, decision making, environmental  impact statement, harshness of winter, building urban bike paths, or just today's weather?

Every once in a while I'm going to get pedantic just because I can. You can't be very good at this broadcast journalism thing unless you are really aware of what's going on around you. You don't have to be born knowing that.  You've just got to do it.

Is it true or myth that the Pilgrims wanted roasted Eagle as the main entree in that  first Thanksgiving meal with Native Americans?

Turkeys in this country can come out of hiding for a while.  But our friend Cheri in Ireland says turkey doesn't go over big for Thanksgiving, but look out for Christmas and other religious festivities coming up.

I'm just adding all this turkey conversation so I can add my own little cliche for the day.  Here is comes.  It's been nice we could get together like this and "talk turkey."

Okay, that's a wrap. I really did order the "turkey wrap" last night.

My cyber friend sighlemaccaba has some further thoughts for those of you employed writing or on air in the media. Visit her annoyances. I think you'll enjoy them.

Going Home

Flirtatious: Wow!

Real Mood: Wow!

Prediction: Peggy will paint the living room green. Oh, my gosh, she's already done it. Oh, and this will not be the busiest shopping day of the year.

A bus ride from Yarmouth to Boston. A plane Ride from Boston to Denver. A car ride to a chain restaurant. A salad to eat. No leftovers. And then home. The denoument. And they lived happily ever after.

You'd think we'd have to be careful to avoid mall traffic on the way home.  After all the day after Thanksgiving is always the busiest shopping day of the year, right? Not!

The day after thanksgiving has never been the biggest shopping day volume wise, gross purchase wise, net profit wise.  Once again me saying it won't squelch the myth. Once it's in the ether, it's there to stay. This myth I'm covinced  has been perpetuated by the retail industry. It sure would be nice for them if it was the busiest shopping day of the year.  That busiest day, by the way, typically comes a day or two before, or a day or two after Christmas. 

Now somebody in every news room in the country knows the truth. But they can't hold back the tsunami force of the myth. I was reading the Boston Globe at Logan airport. A sports reporter cleverly writes, " On this busiest shopping day of the year, the Red Sox may have picked  up some real bargains from the Marlins."

If I was sitting in the Globe news room I know I wouldn't have the energy to waste trying to change that sports writer's mind. It likely took him quite a while to come  up with that clever phrasing.  His self confidence is more important than any insignificant commitment to accuracy. No?

Sorry Kermit, but it is "easy" being green.

Giving Thanks

Flirtatious: "Nice legs. And that's some pretty good stuffin' you got there, too.

Real Mood: Grateful

Prediction: Someone will have turkey tetrazini for the first time tommorrow.

I'm heading home to my beautiful bride in the morning.  Had a delightful time here in Maine.  I met some wonderful new extended family members. Food was great, kids were fun. Brenda and I had some laughs. Weather? Hmmm? I hope everyone who tunes in found something to be thankful for.

It's so great to see a holiday through the eyes of children.  Where do they get that energy? How do they set up that pecking order? When was the last time any one US laughed with that much abandon? How do their parents survive?  Maybe it's because we've entered a new century. They seem to be using new riddles, playing new games, singing new songs? Wow? I'm really thankful I got to watch but didn't have to pick up after them.

I am sorry about one issue. I liked the Lemon Merengue better than the Pumpkin. It's not something you should say out loud.

Liposuction is not something I'm going to do, but I am going to think about it for the first time.

Round em up, Head em out

Flirtatious"You know you're the spittin' image of a girl I know named Millie. She works at a place out west called Kyle's. Looks just like this place."

Real Mood: Diametrically superimposed

Prediction: Tommorrow military men and women throughout the World are going to have to give up their Beef Burgunday MRE's and eat turkey. Oh, and this will not be the busiest travel day of the year. More on that later.

The bar you're looking at is touted as the oldest tavern in Portland, Maine. It's also a near exact replica of Kyle's in Colorado.

If you are having trouble getting around up here in New England it's a good idea to remember they build their roads following colonial cow paths. When you get in your car? Think Bovine!

I had duck salad tonight. I did NOT name the duck. Duck does not taste like chicken or turkey.

I think every major city in the nation will have a 10K race called the turkey trot tommorrow morning. Every television station in those major cities will cover theirs. So how do you top that? Portland, Maine has two.  They had one last week, and they'll be doing it again tommorrow morning.

Back to the busiest travel day issue. It won't change anything for me to tell you this, but the day before Thanksgiving is never the busiest travel day. It's hard to nail down how the myth got started, but logic ought to smash the myth. People travel when the roads and rivers and oceans and skies are clear.  The busiest travel day always hits during the summer. But the myth is locked in.  Aliens studying us will be puzzled. They'll study our language and try to figure out why we say the busiest travel day is in November.  Their dopler digital video will show that can't be the case.  

Oh, Cheri, if you're checking in there are no longer any yarn shops in Yarmouth. Sorry! I'm going to ask Brenda if she needs any help with the pies. I can hear her filling up the dishwashser. I think I'm safe.

Best to you and yours on Thanksgiving.

Can't Get There from Here

Flirtatious: "Say there fellas. How'd you like to buy my pretty little paintin?"

Real Mood: Soggy

Prediction: I'll find a bar just like Kyle's here in Maine.

It hasn't stopped raining for 24 hours.

"Oh, Paul. this is so strange. It's never like this."

I got to see sister Brenda's studio on Portland. Very earthy environment. I'm thinking she's going to get really inspired by her surroundings. I know I was.

We made a quick trip to the Portland Art Museum where displays of all of Christo' works reside.  You get a little better appreciation of his efforts when  you see them together.

We had dinner with my Niece Cydney, her husband Dave, and their two boys Will and Ed. Took some great pics of them, but for some reason can't download them. I'll work on it.

Got a tour or Portland in the rain...with Brenda pointing to a fort in the middle of Casco bay with the narrative, "It's some sort of historical thing."

She's an artist. Christo probably couldn't tell me what it was either.

For a while we just seemed to be driving around in a lot of circles getting nowhere. I remember from the short time I lived in the Boston area what great pride residents have in tormenting tourists.

"No sir, can't get there from here."

And sometimes that's just downright true. 

 

Watching local TV tonight I'll bet you can't guess what story I saw?

Now which one of you blurted out, "a story about a turkey farm."

Yep!

Here's another one someone is going to see somewhere in the country.

"It's really not a good idea to name your turkeys, or any animal that you plan to eat some day."

Gobble, Gobble is getting closer.

Hold The Phone!

Flirtatious: "Now Chad, honey! You just take all the time off you need to be a father."

Real Mood: Stupified

Prediction: Chad Myers has an  accomplice in a "BABY" paternity leave scam.

I was on a plane this morning. Who was doing CNN weather early AM? What was she or he wearing.

 

I' ve just heard from CNN. Was I off! I guess it's Chad Myers who should be doing all those morning weather casts.  Okay now. Brace yourself.  This is the official statement. Chad is getting ready to go on PATERNITY leave.  So, Bonnie and Jacqui (with a Q)are filling in. What selfless sweethearts they are.  'As Henry Gibson used to say on "Laugh  In," Velllly Interessssting."  I guess it makes sense. Your  own departure from Earth  qualifies as a valid excuse for not being there during ratings. Bringing a little creature on to the planet should carry the same weight.

I applaud CNN for it's progressive policy on this issue.  But I'm still a little suspicious. I'm going to keep digging.

I'm in Yarmouth, Maine (near Portland). Had a great flight to Boston where my section's Flight Attendant is an exact replica of Jamie Lee Curtis.  I took her picture and I think you can see Tony's genes in her smile.

Know what they do with their pleasure boats up here in Maine in the winter? They cover them in shrink wrap.  Not kidding.  Some get dry docked. Some stay in the water. But they all get shrink wrapped.

I left my "meds" at home. What a pain to get that resolved thousands of miles from  your doctor or pharmacy.

Our educations never end, do they?  We are eating at a Thai restaurant and I order the Pepper Steak.

"And what kind of meat you want sir?"

"Didn't I say Pepper Steak?"

 "Yes, sir. But Pepper Steak can be Pepper Chicken, Pepper Pork, Pepper Beef."

"I don't get it. Just give me the Chicken."

 

Thanks Bonnie!

Flirtatious: "I want you to see me looking doughty and still like me." 

Real Mood: Ponderous

Prediction: George W will do a "photo op" getting off the chopper at  the White House as he gets back from China. The President will never master the correct pronounciation of any word of the Mandarin Chinese language. I wonder how one says "new cue lure" in Cantonese? (Prediction Follow Up: I said someone would do a story on a turkey farm last week.  I'm confident that happened somewhere even though I didn't see it. CBS Sunday Morning did offer up a natural sound feature on wild turkeys at the end of their show. Contributing photojournalists love that "end of show" feature. So do a whole bunch of the rest of us, I think.)

So many things are predictable in our shared lives, it's just nice when they are not. So Bonnie Schneider is our link with the weather on CNN this morning?  But Bonnie, mixing and matching from previous outfits, appears in rather doughty and drab adornment.  She is wearing a below the knee length black knit dress. The neckline is high and non-provacative. She is wearing that bland beige sport coat. It takes some doing, but this outfit gives Bonnie an almost masculine overtone. For personal reasons, this is a good thing today.  It allows me to focus.

I am actually able to listen to Bonnie this morning as she says,  "It's going to be very nice today in Boston and points north."

Well, that's where I'm headed tommorrow.  It's as if she is talking right to me. That's an art I tell my students they must master. They MUST look into that lens and talk to one person. It's easier said than mastered.

I'm headed to Maine to visit my sister Brenda. Peggy and I have tried a couple of times to get a trip planned to New England for the leaf change. Missed it again.
"Save me a Leaf Brenda."

Brenda is an artist that, to my knowledge, has never produced anything on fall leaves in New England. Go figure. It comes to me this is an opportunity to get into "shameless sister promotion." Here's her website: 

www.brendareinertson.com

Peggy is also an artist but won't let me do "shameless wife promotion."  I'll keep working on her.

I'm looking out the window at all  the airplane contrails forming this blue mesh net of puffy white lines headed in a whole slew of directions. That's what a bunch of us are going to be doing this week, isn't it? We're taking trips to just about everywhere. Know what I like about Thanksgiving? I'm going to tell you anyway. It belongs to everbody, but it's owned by nobody. Bias really isn't very effective on Thanksgiving. Oh, and I also like Thanksgiving because I get to eat mashed potatoes slathered in butter. Just try and stop me. (I've yet to invite my cardiologist over for Thanksgiving Dinner.)

 

I gotta go pack. According to Bonnie I can get by with the cotton sweater and a light jacket.

Quick Turn Around

Flirtatious: "Miss Me big boy?"

Read Mood: Boldly tutorial

Prediction: Some things will never change!

 

Uh, Huh! We get Jacqui for a day and now Bonnie is back. Peggy asks, "How long are you going to fixate on this? You know other people have other things they need to pay attention to in their lives!"

Here's a promise.  I'll get off this "kick" no later than the end of the rating period, which comes sometime in the first week in December. I'll quit sooner if I get answers to my questions. Now I have another question to add to my list.  

"It would be typical to have a changing of the guard, even in the middle of the book (ratings), if it's the weekend.  So having Bonnie pop up on a Saturday would make sense.  But that has not been the pattern. They've been popping in and out of sight in a not at all understandable pattern. I've taken the direct approach and emailed my questions to CNN management.  Should they break form,  and actually answer me in a timely fashion, we will drop the whole issue.  Well, we'll drop the whole issue,  except for a reprise when the book numbers come out. 

We're looking to see ratings numbers on the first quarter hour in the seven and eight o'clock morning hours, from the second week in November through the first week in December.

Even I am getting tired describing their outfits. Fashion narration will never be a dream of mine.

"Black sport coat with deep cut to reveal re clinging blouse, with modest neckline, a little stone necklace to accessorize. Blah, Blah, Blah. Weather in Boston?"

I suppose there are some of you who channel switch between CNN and CNN headline news.  We've already discussed the possibility that Daryn Kagen and Carol Costello may have come from the same egg. Well, look at picture two I've offered up for you today.  I think you can add Robin Mead's yolk to the joke. Triplets?

No one in this business will be able to give young people a definite answer to, "how do I get hired to be on the air?"

It's not wise to even attempt a response.  But when you get a little older you can get away with it and toss in senility as an excuse.  Of course you start out calling it wisdom.  So I actually say this to students,  and people at cocktail parties I'm sure I'll never see again.

"The "People  in Power" at TV stations and  networks tend to hire anchors and reporters in their own image."

This is not a scientific study.  It's just the result of casual observation on my part.  If you are five foot two, and you walk into the six foot four news director's office looking for a job? My advice? Turn around and walk out of her office.

It's a whole different form of desrimination than we talk about.  It's not racial. It's not sexual.  It's not socio-economic. It's not political affiliation.  It's not sexual orientation. It's not, "whose your daddy?"  It's not which fraternity or sorority you pledged. And, sorry to say, it's not talent.

It's body type. Tall people hire tall people.  Short people hire short people. Thin people hire thin people. Heavy people hire heavy people. Don't take my word for it. If you have been working in TV for a while, just think about it. Yes, there will be exceptions. But think about it.  And if I'm right,  tell somebody who is not in the business so I can get rid of the senility label.

I think that's it for the day, unless I think of something later.  

Pickled Eggs

Flirtatious: "Hey Millie! Let's get a pitcher of Bud over here!"

Real Mood: Feeling old again

Prediction: Tom Gleason will eat at Kyle's next week. He will order Iced Tea.

Jacqui is still back. I won't be taking anything granted for a while. She is wearing a pretty casual outfit. She has on brownish, almost plaid like slacks that appear to be sporting a pleat down the middle of the leg. Up top she is covered by a black blouse with a squared off neckline. The blouse looks like it might be muslin with a little braided string hanging down off the front. I've got a picture, but it's not a very good one (couldn't get rid of the morning glare on the screen) so I'll make it picture 2. Nothing new to report on my "who is in" and "who is out" and "why?" investigation. I'm working it.

I had lunch with Tom Gleason this week. Tom's a pretty dynamic  guy who's worn some pretty expensive ties in his day. He's been a mouth piece for the likes of Senator Gary Hart, and Transportation Secretary Federico Pena when Pena was a legislator and mayor. He may be just as proud of his role managing Coors field until it was turned over to the baseball team. Maybe he is just as proud of his management role of a big mess following the shut down of Stapleton International Airport. Now he's a big wig with Forest City Development, which is managing what I believe has been touted as the largest in-fill land development in the country. I tell you all this NOT because Tom is about to run for office and needs a little "Publicity."  No I tell you this to let you enjoy exposing a little piece of Tom we all hope he never loses.

Over the years I've had a few lunches with Tom.  Let's see we've broken bread at Cool  River, an up-scale, "waiter puts your cloth napkin in your lap," establishment. I think Susan Kelly and I joined Tom at My Brother's Bar, a place where everybody connected, goes and pretends they're the only ones who've discovered it. (Great unique hamburgers if you haven't been there.) I know the three of us (Susan included) met at one of those sports bars that fills up on game day and runs a shuttle bus to the stadium. I know I've run into Tom at a slick Irish pub and restaurant downtown.

But twice now since I've retired Tom has insisted we eat at Kyle's. (See the sign above) One of the reasons I'm getting into this is 'cause Tom thinks they're a saloon and eatery thatdeserves to survive.  Well, he's not alone in that assessment. When all the "Kyles" are gone, our generation will have gone with them. Places like Kyle's are already mighty hard to find.  I purposely didn't take any  pictures inside 'cause I want to try my hand at a little word picture painting.

First? You gotta know how to get there. Kyle's sits on Ulster just North of the railroad tracks. Ulster ends at Kyle's. There's a bunch of small and very old industrial operations surrounding it.  These little mini factories all have tall chain link fences around them and old rusting cars or machinery lying about.( You'll find it if you're looking for it.)

 The men (very few women) coming and going at these little businesses, are in "honestly aged"  Levis and tee or sweat shirts. They've all got big arms, generally exceeded in size by the circumferences of their  well-fed stomachs. Actually they typically follow that up with small waists.  (I believe they are the original body prototypes that led to these pants where the psuedo  waist line is down around the knees. Plumbers made that style come alive I believe.) Anyway, to cut to the chase that's how you get there.

 I'm sure some of these Levi guys lunch at Kyle's.  Don't even think about trying to place a cloth napkin in anybodys' lap at Kyle's. That's just fair warning.

You walk in the creaky front door and you see wood of all ages everywhere. There is a big long bar where patrons really do sit. The many times lacquered timber is not in very good focus. That's  because there is a layer of combined cigarette and kitchen smoke hovering about chest high. That wafting combination produces a familiar scent that's slowly disappearing from the American Bar Scape.

The food. There's char broiled! There's bar broiled! Chips. A pickle. Sourdough. Horse radish. Spicy mustard without  fancy name. No sprouts.  Uhm....it's all so good. (and wonderful for you if you don't care much about your cholesterol level, and every functioning organ in your body.) 

The walls are full of very colorful posters and  neon signs advertising beer,  or old cars , or sports, or other things of traditional male interest.

There are old metal tables with oddly patterned formica tops. The chairs at the tables are striped bare of adornment.  For some reason, even with their mostly metal frameworks, they seem more accepting of our aging back sides than the padded perches we find in contemporary saloons.  

There is a good portion of the place devoted to a pool table, a must at a place like Kyle's.  I'm reminded of a place called Joe Jost's in Long Beach, California,  where I really started getting pretty good at most of the table games.  I got so good that I stupidly began to believe in myself.  So, many years later, I'm in a Kyle's look-a-like bar in Meade, Kansas after doing some basketball play by play.  I've put a dent in a pitcher of something, and this shy behaving woman walks up and flirtingly says, "can I play?"  What she meant was, "can I play with your wallet?" Man did I get taken.

You will find a big TV screen at Kyle's and it's clones. (don't even whisper anything about a video or electronic game.) What I don't see right off at Kyle's, but would be appropriate and common to see, is a juke box. (that's a mechanical contraption, not digital or electronic, that plays records, music, old music.) Expect the selections available to include some old Elvis or Willie Nelson, or in Tom's case, "Sweet Molly Malone."

Up at the bar you'll find a wide selection of mostly men plucked from just about every segment of America's religious, racial, educational, political and socio-economic structures. I can picture Red Foxx, Archie Bunker, Alan Greenspan, Bruce Binns, Godfrey Cambridge, Mort Sahl, Frank Ward, Dan Hopkins, Henry Kissenger, Sue O'brien, Chuck Cannon, Jim Weis, me and Tom Gleason all shouting out our personal perspectives at the same time.  (Adam Schrager and Karen Morales could join us, but they'd have to be respectful of our ages.)  Each of us pauses in sequence to say, "Millie, let's get another one up here."

For some reason they run out of stools when George W walks in. "Sorry kid, we're saving that one for your "ol man."

So these are the givens in this "who should go to Kyle's formula." You just gotta be a little bit older, pretty un-tight, like yummy (probably not good for you) fried food,  enjoy free flowing irreverant  mostly sexist conversation, appreciate beer from a pitcher,  and be unafraid to dip into some nostaglia once in a while.

Tom and I talked about the story we did together trying  to sell World Leaders,  coming to town  for the "Summit of The Eight", into using the old United Airlines hangar as their meeting venue.

"I mean it IS right next to the shut down United Kitchen's building. These are people used to airline food?"

Look, if you're not uppity, and you've got enough rings in your trunk to allow you to remember most of this stuff, give Kyle's a shot. You'll be welcome.

"How'd I do Tom? Maybe we could get Jacqui Jeras and Bonnnie Schneider to sling some beer for us?"

You know what I didn't see? I didn't see the pickle jar, or more importantly, the pickled egg jar.

Sheees Baaack!

Flirtatious: "This forecast if for you, and you alone."

Real Mood: Perplexed

P:rediction: "No other woman to be on air at CNN will ever again spell her name J A C Q U I!"

 

I need to be journalistically pure in this situation. This is a picture of Jacqui Jeras who disappeared from the CNN cameras  for more than a week. But what you are seeing is their web site promotional picture of Jacqui. That's why I cropped it so you don't confuse her publicity outfit ,with today's on air outfit.  I missed getting that on air picture because the battery died on my camera. (I probably would have been fired for that if I was still on somebody's payroll.)

Anyway, she is back with no explanation of what happened to Bonnie Schneider, who, herself appeared out of nowhere.

Today, Jacqui was wearing a red, almost Burgundy pant suit. I would call it an uneventful selection.  By comparison to outfits she and Bonnie have been wearing, I'd call it non-impactive.  Her reappearance raises a number of questions, which if they have answers, will break some industry molds.

Okay, here's some speculation that would make sense in other work worlds. Job Sharing? That's never done among anchors during a rating's period. It's presumed viewers will only remain loyal if the anchor that's supposed to be there, is there. It's in all their contracts. No time off during ratings. Anchor Adele Arakawa expressed it well to one of my classes, "about the only valid time off excuse during ratings? Death! Yours!"

Let's move on. Maybe it's a chance to have an audience focus group evaluate the relative magnetism of the two women. Not during ratings. While the fashion parade by the two women would fit "that makes sense" category?  Not during ratings. 

Maybe the change to Bonnie had been scheduled all along. We just witnessed the subtle changing of the weather guard? "You don't change horses in the middle of the stream."

Middle of Stream=Ratings

No personnel changes during ratings. .

Maybe CNN was in contract negotiations with Jacqui that fell apart. Bonnie had just been sitting in the wings waiting for those talks to collapse. Bonnie steps in and steals the show. She also steals Jacqui's lover.  Makes for some nice 40's film drama. Not during ratings.

Something else that makes no historical sense. If  have somebody new coming on the air, particularly during ratings, you promote the H___ out of them. I've not seen a single promo spot for either woman.

The only speculation that comes even close to being possible in my mind?One or both of these women share DNA with a major CNN stockholder. But since CNN is now owned by AOL, which is owned by Time Warner; getting DNA samples from that many executives is going to take some time. And the thought of nepotism at such a high level is so cynical, I don't even want it to be true.

I'm going to leave it for now and do some digging. If and when I get an answer, you'll find it here.    

 

In the meantime, "Welcome back Jacqui."

In my old radio days, top 40 station KOMA, Oklahoma City assigned names to airshifts. Disc Jockeys would come and go, but names remained the same.

When asked to come up with my first fake air name, I picked my and my dad's middle names. I became Paul Joseph. It had quite an impact, but one you might not imagine. In this small town it put an end to Jewish jokes until someone let the cat out of the bag. It was a lot of fun watching bigots squirm.

Night!

Invent this!

Flirtatious: Can I interest you in an apple? I just got done washing off all the insecticide. But I left the sticker for you.

Real Mood: Kinda Sad

Prediction: I predict the "fruit sticker" art genre will die out for lack of resource material.

Before I jump off into a fruit sticker whine, let me keep you up to snuff on Bonnie Schneider. She's the new morning Weather Lady on CNN. I've been trying to keep up with her daily fashion parade. I think you can find research that says most people would like to look like, or be with,  their local weather person.

Well, anyway, Bonnie has been all over the map with her style and color choices. This morning's display is by far the most conservative.  You can almost concentrate on the weather.  She has on an all black, very professional looking business suit. Underneath the jacket we find a very bright pink (almost red) starched blouse. I think she can fit in nicely (outfit wise) in an investment house board room.

Except for the COLLAR.  I hope it's not a trend. This collar stands  up about 6 inches off the shoulders. It's wings are flared out like a Harrier's  (the jet).  You know what's coming!  Yeah she looks like she's ready to take off.

Okay, new subject. About 4 years ago I went through a series of gustatory events that changed my perception of fruits and vegetables forever.  Seems about once a week, for several weeks, I would get one of those little stickers in my teeth.

My friend Jeff Stroh, who is regional public relations manager for Safeway, got the brunt of my protest.

"Why do you need them, Jeff?"

"So the clerks can tell what they are Paul."

I followed my first instinct.

"Well let's see, what do we have here? Is it an apple?"

I've since opened my mind and reflected on today's reality.  In my growth years we had two apple choices. There was red to eat. There was green to cook. Today we've got the Fuji, the Braeburn, the Gala, the  Jonathon, the Adinfinappleum.

Actually I'd already given up the protest prior to the Type of Apple Explosion.  I decided instead to turn a sows ear into a silk purse.

I've been collecting fruit stickers and artfully placing them on vitamin vials for the better part of four years. Should you be tempted to question the worth I've placed on my latest creation? Consider:

1. I am estimating there are over 3 thousand stickers on the vial you are looking at. Do you realize how many Kiwis and Carrots I had to endure to work this piece?

2. This creation has been in the works for over two years. Just imagine the "man seconds" that have gone in to it.

3. Let your eyes feast on every color, and shade of color,  known to man's prism.

4. But here is the kicker that thrusts this "objet d'art" into the "gotta have it" category. One of the primary cost factors in any free market system is scarcity.

Well on somebody's air today I hear a preview of Time Magazine's List of Top 20 inventions for the year?  One of those inventions? It's a powerful little stamp machine that just indents the name of the vegan item right into the peel or rind. They are taking the paint right off my easel.

Peggy is back in town to lend little sympathy. She is too quick with a solution.

"Why don't you just start saving the rinds.  Then you could do Rind Art.  You know "Reinertson's Rind Art?"

Why can't I think of things like that.  Let's see, I'm going to need a better framework than vitamin vials. Maybe toilet paper or paper towel centers. That might work. I need to go try one. I'll get back to you on this one. However if you're ready to meet my price on the fruit sticker vial? Just go ahead and interupt.

Maybe we could wrap Bonnie in banana leaves.

Maybe if I'd been listening?

Flirtatious: That's some weather map you've got there. Make it yourself?

Read Mood: Beaten by degrees

Prediction: Someone will do a TV story this week on a turkey farm.

Bonnie's outfit was moderately tame this morning with kind of an odd color mix.   She wore a black skirt, a red lacy blouse that gave the impression of being see through, and  a kind of doughty creme colored, tailored jacket.

You know I'd spent so much time watching Bonnie and trying to get the temperature in Boston,  I don't even know if she gave a forecast for this area.  I should have been paying attention.  I had three power outages, an inch of snow, a carbon monoxide detector that wouldn't shut off. I'm exhahausted.

I did have a lot of fun in my announcing class, working on raising energy levels. And with hardly any sleep under my belt, that was a pretty good challenge.  We made so much noise someone came around and shut the doors to the studio.  That always tells me we are doing something right.

In the radio journalism class I felt really good about our stream of consciousness exercise. There is some pretty good cortical action going on in that classroom. This was the first time Everybody let go.

This was only the second day I've worn a shoe since breaking my toe.  "I'm afraid I'm not quite ready to go back in coach." I had to take my shoe off in class. I don't get embarrassed, but I don't think the class enjoyed seeing me in my sock.

Man it's just been cold. It didn't go over 30 degrees, all my joints are talking to me, and I left my WD-40 at home.

Look for some big TV stories this week. It's the challenge of having a rating period with Thanksgiving hanging out at the end of it. I'm not sure about this, but I've heard the HUT (houses using television) levels drop the closer we get to Thanksgiving.  That means the stations and networks will be trying to draw you in this week.  You're going to hear a lot of those "Chicken Little Teases."

"Will the Sky Fall? Tune in tonight at ten and find out."

"Will People really eat Turkey on Thanksgiving? Join us tonight for our in-depth investigation."

Some station in the country will do the old "drop a wallet in an alley" investigative story. You just set up the camera to catch people's behaviors when they find a wallet full of money. I've seen it so many times, I could write down the soundbites before they're even uttered.

I finally found some Bio information on Bonnie. Part of her early career was spent at a small station in Louisiana where she got to be known as "Miss Bonnie!"

I hope she's wearing something interesting in the morning. I'm so beat I might sleep through it this time.

Night!

My, My!

Flirtatious:" Hi, my name's Bonnie. The boys in school used to call me Flirtatious."

Read Mood: Validated

Prediction: There will be an upward spike in CNN's ratings, during the quarter hour segments where Bonnie is on camera.

You know I was going to drop this whole sexy weather persons issue until I woke up this morning and felt validated. That sounds defensive, doesn't it?  Well one of my siblings thought I was being a bit Victorian, and that Bonnie Schneider's outfit was clearly within the bounds of decency and good taste. And this is my most conservative sibling! 

Of course that sibling is not a male. What I had to make clear to her, and will now announce to the world?  I like Bonnie. ( She probably wouldn't like me after all this.)  But I think she's perky, bright eyed, (she might evern be BRIGHT, but I'll never know or care) and very definitely delightfully formed. (Her come-on is certainly nothing compared to that babe pushing "Overstock Dot Com." What are we supposed to think is on sale there?)

Still I was all ready to drop the whole thing until I rolled over in bed and woke up to what you see above. By the way, before we go any farther, I am not a reformer. As I told my sister I am merely a "Pointer Outer." Other than not giving me the temperature in Boston, Bonnie and Jacqui give me the weather the way I like it ( Short, Uncomplicated,Sweet)

I'm trying to imagine Bonnie shopping at the mall last night for just one more outfit that would display her assets during the ratings period.   I see her coming out of Victoria's Secret with a (lowest yet) gold lame blouse. Wow!.

Says, Bonnie: 

"Let's see. I'll need to hide all those wires and boxes, too. I'll just pop into Sears here and find my self a really ugly brown jacket to go with it."

Peggy had to point out the jacket to me, and says the blouse may not be lame.

The other reason I decided not to drop this issue? We may have accidentally stumbled on to something interesting here. I'd already done some simple (logged on to CNN website) research. That was to get some background on Jacqui. So this morning I go back in,  looking for a "bio" on Bonnie Schneider. It's not there. She's not there. So let me take you back inside the CNN building again (fictionally). Let's look at some basic TV givens, and see if we can solve this mystery:

1.) We're ina ratings period. (until the 1st week in December if you're keeping track.)

2.) No on-air personalities (including weather anchors) are allowed to take time off during ratings period. (If there is just one given law in the industry, it's this one)

3.) Jacqui Jeras was last on the air a week ago, a week well within the ratings period window.

4.) Bonnie Schneider shows up out of no-where and no one even mentions Jacqui being sick, or hurt, or on assignment in Antarctica?

5.) Ergo?

Now we don't want to read a lot into this.  Or do we?  Hey, I'm just a "Pointer Outer."

Doing bulk mailing to drum up a little interest generated some fun responses. I've heard from cousin, Bill, former students Barbara, Tierza, Gina and Dan. I promise not to over-do the Bulk Mail thing.  I found out from AOL that you need to let them know your are bulking, or they shut you down until you can prove you're you. And once you're on their bulk list? You need to do it at least once every 90 days to stay active. I'm just passing this along as a "Pointer Outer."

Here's a new irony. Bonnie talks on the air over a live shot of Boston Harbor (they didn't leave the shot up very long), " It's not normal for it to be so mild there. I know because I used to live there."

Since she lived there, don't you think she could let us know what the high in Boston is going to be for the day? 

Just so you don't think I'm entirely depraved and decadent, I actually saw Bonnie's weather credentials flashed along the crawl line at the bottom of the screen.  I didn't have a stop watch with me...but my length of time it was up estimate? 40 one hundreths of a second I'd say. You may have picked it up subliminally and it will come to you in a dream tonight.  It's that weather organaization that starts with "A". But like I said before, "who cares."

So now I'm going to drop the " CAN YOU BELIEVE the ratings period WEATHER ANCHOR SCANDAL AT CNN," with a caveat.  If Jacqui reappears? I'm all over it.  

I just read "Chicken Little" is tops in box office, second week in a row? Boy, I guess we do love our cliches. I still think Eisner got out at the right time.  I've clearly learned that Thursday Nights are not "Go To The Movies," nights. 

Barometric Pressure up!

Flirtatious: See my other photos. I think you'll find them very revealing.

Real Mood. Modestly relieved

Prediction: To paraphrase Rogers and Hamerstein's assessment of Kansas City Burlesque, CNN'S Bonnie Schneider "has gone about as fer as she can go."

I had this all written and accidentally stepped on a power switch before saving. AAAAAAHHHH! Okay, I feel better now.

Let's just imagine we are flies on a wall at a recent "fictional" CNN boardroom meeting.

"Gentlemen, and ladies, we got a problem. FOX and MSNBC are biting us where it hurts.  Every day I look at the numbers and we are getting nowhere with males 14 to 21."

"That's a tough one sir, but I think I've got an idea."

"Shoot!"

"Well, sir. I think we need a unique attack to get to that audience segment. I think we need to go right after their most basal instincts."

"I told you before Brisby, we got no chance at stealing any major sporting events. FOX, ESPN and the "Old Nets" got all the biggies tied up with long term contracts."

"I wasn't exactly talking about sports per se, sir."

"I told you a long time ago we are not going to do the mud wrestling championships."

"Actually I'm not talking about sports at all sir."

"Well spit it out man. We don't have a lot of time here."

'In a word sir, SEX."

"I WILL NOT, hear me, dress our anchors up like whores and pimps and ask them to be serious journalists."

"I know that, and I agree with that sir. But what about weather?"

"Huh"

"Look, research tells us nobody really listens to the weather. They just watch it.  Why not give those 14 to 21 year old males something to watch?"

"Hmmm? What do you have in mind?"

"Oh, just a little cleavage sir."

"Are we going to be able to find any female meteorologists to compromise their values, for the sake of the company?"

(I'M SAVING NOW!)

"We may even have some women here in the pool willing to do it for some face time, sir."

"Hmmm. Weigh in on this Jacqui.... Bonnie.  Is this idea repulsive to you?"

"I don't know how Bonnie feels, but I kind of like the idea. I'm not too sure we could get regular female anchors to buy in to it though."

"Yes, I agree with Jacqui. I think some of these ladies take themselves way too seriously.  But seems to me, like with the right people, it might get the result we want."

"Where in the hell are we going to get a couple of women to do this on short notice?"

"I don't know about Bonnie, but I know a little bit about weather. Of course you'd have to make the judgement about whether or not I'd fit the bill?

"I actually have my weather certification Jacqui. I also have a closet full of clothes I'm not allowed to wear to work.  I think it might be kind of fun.  Of course, you'd have to agree I look the part." 

"Okay, let me push the envelope a little bit here. Suppose we do this progressive thing.  You start with fairly modest necklines, and each day of the book (rating period) you drop those necklines just a smidgeon until the boys at home are getting to see some real cleavage."

"Well which one of us are you talking to sir?"

"Both of you.?"

"I'm pretty sure I could handle that sir."

"I'm in."

"Okay, it's a deal.  I'll get some paper work going. You two get with wardrobe. Tell them I want tight fitting, bold sexy colors, lots of sexy accessories. Oh, and go practice. Even if no one's listening I don't want you calling a nimbus a cumulus."

"Yes, sir!"

"We're on it!"

Outside the boardroom:

"Well that beer we bought Brisby sure payed off."

"In spades."

Inside the board room:

"So Brisby, how'd I do? Do you think they really bought it?"

"No doubt in my mind sir."

"Well with that bonus your getting? You're buying me dinner."

Anyway I'm relieved that the progressive slide of Bonnie's neckline appears to have stabalized. She's gone about as fer as she can go. And so has this entry....except...wait a minute.

At breakfast this morning I talked to the roommate of one of my former students, who one way or another, you'll all know some day. Her name is Stephenie Davis. Her roommate tells me Stephenie was offered and has accepted an assitant basketball coaching job at Colordo Academy. Whatever she does Stephenie is going to rise to the top.  I hope she works some media into her fame, but I know she'll succeed at whatever she does.

I have two memories of Colorado Academy. One, I lost in the first round of tennis tournament there. Two, I was sitting in a studio at a radio station in 1975, I think.( Maybe '76, '77) Someone out front wanted to know if I'd like to interview some kid from the Academy who'd won a few ice skating trophies.  What the heck, why not?

Well in walks this little guy shaking like an aspen in the wind. I jumped right into some small talk to ease his fears.

"Hi! Have a seat.  I'm Paul. What's your name?"

"Scott."

"Scott......?"

"Hamilton. Scott Hamilton."

"Every done anything like this before Scott."

"No sir, and I'm scared to death." 

I could tell you enough about my athletic averageness to make you aware I can take no reward for making Scott Hamilton the skater he is today. But I will jump in and take credit for one thing.  I opened the microphone? Scott Hamilton hasn't shut up since.

 I notice from his shows, he's is not exactly shy about the necklines of his females skaters either.

If I'm reading the map right in photo three, I'm thinking low 60's for a high in Boston?