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?

"Live...From....Atlanta...It's....

Flirtatious: "You cloud my vision, you blow me away, and that's no snow job!"

Real Mood: Frightened

Prediction: My Color Pencil work will never exhibit at the Louvre.

I'm frightened because Bonnie was on CNN again this morning.  Not just on, but dressed with yet another advancement downward in the neckline. I have employed Peggy to be my back up fashion critic from her perch in California.  These are Peggy's words.

"She has on a slinky, low cut dress. She is clearly pulling her shoulders back."

I don't know what that means until I try it myself.  Whoa! How can I have lived this many years and not known some women do that on purpose?

Anyway, to add my own observation, I think Bonnie's outfit can easily do duty as a cocktail dress. I make note of the thin necklace, holding a perpendicular appendage that gravity is pulling downward. That appendage is holding widely spaced pearls, the bottom one of which is dipping right into the decollatage. Is this trend going to continue?  Scary.  

I mean tommorrow is Sunday. Little boys will be getting up early to get dressed for church, or mosque, or synagogue or the park.  They'll want to know what the weather is doing so they'll know how to dress.  If they turn to Bonnie for help we could see male morality and productivity take major dives. If it were my kid I wouldn't take the chance.  Just let him sleep in. (okay, guys just send your checks to Paul, at......)

So I pay the bills today, not one of my favorite things to do. There is always, I mean always, a surprise. This time I have in front of me a completed form for a subcription to Architectural Digest. Maybe she told me. I know she likes to build things. Hmmm?  I think she'd be really good at it. Maybe I'll write her life story and call it, let's see, how about "FoutainHeadDress." Okay, I'll write the check.

The only nice thing about having Peggy out of town is I get to eat fish. She hates it, won't have it in the house, won't go into a restaurant that may smell of it.  If fish ever gets labeled an illegal substance I'm going to rent Peggy out to sniff out all the stashes. We'll be rich.

Anyway I decide to try out the new sushi place in town. It is cute.  Silent movies playing on the wall, the sushi bar, the incredibly beautiful hostess, the overly trained wait people standing around not so inconspicously, ready to pounce on you if you so much as straighten your fork.  

"Ep Oo Suh?" (translation: Help You Sir?)

She's probably a Liberal Arts major from Vassar who majored in fake Japanese-English gibberish..

"Nope. Just bring me the regular sushi plate. Don't want to make any decisions."

Now I've got a problem. It's worse than the airlines.  Not only are there no knives, there are likewise no forks or spoons. Oh, My! Chop sticks. One look at my big fat hands and you'd understand my Oh, My!  And my lack of capableness in this matter is heightened by the fact my regular sushi plate comes with a salad, and soup.

I very early on had the sticks cross over on me, sending a piece of lettuce flying across the dining room. Luckily it landed on no one's face.

Her reflexes are uncanny. The wait person  jumps out from behind the pilar whilst the lettuce is still in the air.

" Ep Suh?"  (translation: May I help you, you clumsy American man.)

"Nah, just a little rusty."

I am thinking about asking for a fork, but quickly notice no one else in the place is using one.

The food is good. The ginger is a funny color, but tasty.

"Mo Betah 'is kuhluh." (translation: this color is much better tasting.)

Well, the food is good.  I over do the wasaba on one sauce mix.

"Wa uh suh?" (Water sir, or should I say dumb American man?)

Well I can identify almost everything I eat. Almost everything is delicious. Almost excludes the last piece I'm able to balance on my chop sticks.  It has little bumps on it. When it gets into my mouth it gets rubbery. It's so rubbery and distasteful  I just stop chewing and swallow it. There is a terribly uncomfortable grimace on my face.

"Ah Ah Puh, Suh." (translation: Octopus idiot American man.)

You know I really don't like raw octopus.

I want to order desert but remember why Japanese tend to carry around less body fat that the rest of us. I'm pretty sure I know what she'd say. 

"No duh suht suh." (translation: You incredibly unsophisticated American dimwit. You don't come to a sushi bar and ask for desert.)

I opted for just asking for the check. I pay the price, in so many ways, and start heading towards the door.  The gorgeous hostess pops a smile that could swallow a whale.

"Ank ooo suh mu suh. Ple Kuhm Gihn." (translation: Thank you so much sir. Please come again.)

"Yeah, I'll be back. But next time hold the Ah Ah Puh"

I have this image in my head of my Ah Ah Puh flying through the air and landing right in the middle of Bonnie's decollatage. Do you think I need professional help?

Now what'll I do?

Flirtatious: You know I think I could get interested in this weather business?

Real Mood: Languorous

Prediction: They won't get started on that road behind my house this Fall. ( the rich people in the neighborhood are throwing a fit. NIMBY rides again)

Well, even though this will register as a Saturday posting, it's really all about Friday.

And Friday morning CNN's morning weather person is still Bonnie Schneider. If you'll look up towards the runway you'll see Bonnie is wearing tight black pants. Her blouse underneath appears to be a clinging black tafetta with white embroidering.  It dips even lower than her Thursday blouse.  I say "appears to be" because most of it is covered with this tight, fire engine red bolero top. I personally think it needs a little more length to look comfortable.

ATTENION NON MEDIA FRIENDS: I am going to deliver a couple of fashion apologies for TV anchors.  You'll note they often look as if they ought to go up a size with their jackets when they step out from behind the anchor desk.  That's because there's a whole bunch of things stuffed up under those jackets.. 

In most major market studios, anchors have two wireless microphones attached somewhere on the chest. It's ironic they call them wireless. Truth is both Mic's HAVE wires that run down to little transmitters clipped to the waist.  But wait, that's not all.  They also have little ear pieces like the FBI wear? Attachhed to them there's a curly plastic tube running down the collar in the back. Another wire gets plugged in at this juncture and runs down the back, inside the jacket,  and attaches to another little receiver box. It's called the IFB. And   the IFB is there so producers can yell at them.  And you thought it looked like fun. You might join me in wondering WHY all the wires when we can all the same features and more on a Cell phone about the size of a fingernail?  

In profile, at the weather map, Bonnie does start to seperate herself from Jacqui. But I swear they are still from the same gene pool.

What a strange day. I've decided to go to a student performance of Bertolt Brecht's "Mother Courage." Well, one of the nice benefits of instructorship is free tickets to plays.  So at 11 a.m. I know the play is at 7:30. But to get one of those free tickets I need to drive to school to get a voucher.  The campus is about a quarter of a tank of gas away. So why drive downtown, get the ticket, drive back home, eat an apple, and then drive right back to town again.  Why don't I just arrange a few things to do in between and hang out. 

So off I go. I get lunch, get a tour from Paula Vargas of the Estacion Espanol where she's the assignment editor. (Paula is a former student. As they typically say of assignment editors? Don't mess with her.)

Then  I head over to the station where I'd worked for 17 years just to say hi. That was great. I hadn't realized how much I missed the people that work there. I got to meet Robin Hoffman the new Executive Producer (new to me) and internship coordinator. Students give her rave reviews.  Well that took all of an hour. On to campus.

Meagan Euler is the keeper of the vouchers.

"Sorry Paul, Meagan won't be in until after 4. Maybe you could go to the box office and reserve a ticket, come back here, after 4, get the vouchers, and go back to the box office."

Okay then. I have to kill 6 hours on campus, which you'd think might be fun. Well it's not. The computer labs are down. I walk over to watch a women's soccer match  just as a big final cheer goes up. Everybody walks off leaving me there alone.  (I do get a chance to wave at Former student Elin Otter. She is the match announcer.).  I go to the book-store to look around.  With just 5 weeks left in a semester? Don't bother looking around the bookstore. Well I'll just sit outside on a bench and veg for a while.

" Is that rain? Why yes it is. Well it's a little early, but I'll go eat at Pete's." I decide on speghetti with meatballs.

"Yes sir, just pay at the cash register."

"Whatcha havin'"

"Speghetti and meatballs."

"No sorry, no meatballs. How about some Italian sausage."

"Okay, Italian sausage."

"That'll be blah dollars and blah cents and I'll bring it out to you."

20 minutes later here it comes.

"Here you are sir, speghetti with some very tasty Italian sausage."

"Thanks."

Well I get my fork out and start lookin'. I mean I look under every string of speghetti on the plate. I taste the sauce. There is no sausage. 

"Hem, Hem, excuse me."

"Problem?"

"No sausage."

"Whoops. Oh, there it is. Sorry about that."

So I try to take a nap in my booth. That gets tough. My "where's the sausage" guy is turning all the chairs upside down.  I guess it's closing time.

Well I walk around a little more. It's 6 p.m.  The box office will be open. I get my ticket and now I've just an hour and half to kill.  I remember I can get free parking in one lot, even though I'm already paid up in another one.  But since I have to kill an hour and a half, why not?

I use up maybe a half hour making the transfer. However I'm no longer parked anywhere near the theatre.

I amble over to the building and the theatre is still dark. So I know this building, and take the elevator up to the third floor and call Peggy in California. I'm not sure she understands why I'm doing that. 

So, off I go at 7 p.m. to see "Mother Courage."  I am not the first one in line.  Those spots belong to former students (Meagan and Kristina) and friends of former students. We get introduced and chat and I sit in their section. I listen to them discuss the play, theatre in general, and life in general.  I've forgotten how serious and probing students can be. It reminds me of the time when I was a college senior driving my freshman sister and her coed pals to Long Beach State.  They were chattering up a storm about religion. One of them says, "Why do suppose God chose Mary to be the mother of Jesus?"

"Because she was pregnant," I replied.

 The rest of the trip was marked by total silence.  Well not total silence.  I drove a '49 Chevy with one of the radiator fan blades rusted off.

Well, I will not make that mistake again.  I just keep my big mouth  ( my sister Brenda and I can actually get our entire right fists inside our mouths.  We perform at parties for free drinks.) shut.  I settle in for two and a half hours of War Protest.

 

Turns out I have four students performing in the play. There's David Karasik, Karah Britton, David Rodwell (didn't even know Rodwell acts.  I should have guessed. He's reserved in class until called upon. Then, he comes alive. I'm guessing he's related to Mother Courage since she has the same last name) and Nicole Stevenson.

I'm thinking it's good I'm here.  I consider it a fun self imposed obligation of the job to see students other rooms of their lives.  

But it also makes it impossible for me to do a critical review. It's the same as having your own kid on stage.  He or she can do no wrong.

I will say I've always wondered about promoting  "Mother Courage" as a war protest. I'm sure Brecht would be happy about that. But once you create something, it then belongs to everyone.  And this one, me, thinks the play just exposes all the misery, and moral contradictions of living with  war. It's just a two and a half hour version of "War Is Hell." It's a story that can be told and shared without comment. But I think I just made one, didn't I.

Well, this is getting langorous, isn't it.  I'm exhausted. Don't ever just tell yourself you're going to go "hang out for 6 hours."

It doesn't work at this age, probably any age.

One more thing. Current student Sarah Frank wrote the play back grounder for the production. She is so good at what she does. This is no exception.

I wonder if Bonnie will be doing the weather again in the morning. I still can't tell you the expected high in Boston. 

Flibber Gaff Plunk Bucket

Flirtatious: My what a gorgeous mechanical appendage you have there. I'll bet you pump titanium, don't you? Now don't you try and deny it.

Real Mood: non compos mentis

Prediction? This day will never make any sense. (But while I'm on the subject of predictions, a few days ago I predicted it will be the musicians, whose names we don't know, who'll bring New Orleans back to life?  Well today's answer to a syndicated coded puzzle called the Celebrity Cipher, came from trumpeter Kermit Ruffins. 'Sorry Kermit...never heard of you.' He is quoted by lthe puzzle people as saying, "I can't wait to get there and throw the grand reopening party on the NEW New Orleans." Am I just lucky, or what? And did this just break the Guiness Record for most words in a single set of parentheses?) 

Now to my new feature on CNN weather maven Jacqui Jeras' fashion choices of the day.

I should have known right away when I woke myself up early to catch Jacqui's act? This will not be a normal day. It feels like those horrible days in the newsroom when you had set up this great story. You'd been working on it for a week. It was going to be visual, and full of  interesting people or animals.

But right away, as you walk by the assignment desk, the smile gets wiped off your face.

"Hey, Paul. Billy Bob called in sick and you're going to have to cover the legislature."

Well here I am all bleary eyed and propped up in bed with my reporter's notebook, and pencil in hand. I want to remember every detail of Jacqui's outfit.

Out of the mouth of anchor Soledad O'brien comes, " but first we're going to get a look at the weather from Bonnie Schneider."

"WHAT? WHO? WHY?" ( where and when are not critical in this case.) 

They'd pulled a switch on me. Even more bizarre is this Schneider babe could be a clone of the Jeras person.  She has the same hair, the same voice inflections, and an almost identical physical configuration.  I guess she has a little more meat on her cheek bones, and her lips are a bit fuller than Jacqui's. But that's about it.  So I'll be a pro.  I'll just evaluate HER outfit. But guesss what?  Ol' Bonnie and Jacqui must be pretty close. Why? Cause Bonnie is wearing Jacqui's outfit from November 4th.  There is no way to advance the story.

But let's pause here to talk about CNN cloning. Can you show me any visual or vocal differences between Daren Kagen and Carol Costello?  We had  the "Boys from Brazil," and now we get the "Girls from CNN."  I also noticed that every single female anchor or specialist on in the morning has the same hair cut.  All their hairs are the same length...and kind of sloppily layered about shoulder length.  Weird.  And what's up with dueling Obriens as co-anchors?

You know I could say, "well THAT'S the story, not Jacqui's outfit."

It would fit my sermon to students titled, "If you can tell a story, there will always be a story. "

Of course the addendum to that is, "even if you don't like it."

The experience left me a little cranky when I arrived on campus. The cranky barometer went up when I got to my Announcing class and less than half it's population showed up. At least once a semester this happens for no really good reason.

But those of us responsible enough to be there, made the most of our time.  There's another news room metaphor that applies here, and I'll just say it ends, "chicken soup."

Anyway we really bore down and worked on our voices, problem solving, and body language in that order.

Okay, we sang rap songs and show tunes, had some wild rounds of hangman, and topped it off with charades. I tried to act out " I got plenty of nuttin, " from "Oklahoma."  That's also what I got in reponse to my effort...."nuttin."

I'm going to fast forward to tonight.  You know it gets darker, faster this time of year.  And I've been home alone all week. It's not that I'm afraid of the DARK, but sometimes I do hear things? And sometimes I think I see shadows move from room to room? Not very often. Just once in a while. Don't look for anything exciting here. I'm just setting the tone.

Well some time ago I rambled on in a blog entry about what I call, "Chicken Little News."  The essence of my posture is that we ought not hyperbolize teases about upcoming stories.  If the stories don't rise to the level of the teases ( if the sky isn't really falling), we can hear the collective groans in viewer's family rooms. (Hang in there. There may be some compos mentis in the end.)

Well in that same " Chicken Littkle" entry, I safely predicted Disney was going to  release a "Chicken Liittle" movie. (They had already announced it was coming.)  Well I can be a conscientious sort. I felt I should go see the movie before it was reduced to DVD. Hey there might be something in that applies to my sermon. Well I found a theatre and time that worked for me.  And of course the time was after dark.

My expectations were that It might be tough on a Friday night. I'm headed for a very popular entertainment area at 9 p.m. I've been hearing that Disney has really put it's reputation and it's pocket book on the line with this movie.  I'm expecting a packed house.  Enroute I'm even wondering if I'll find a parking place. And it's dark out.

Well, I pull into the lot and my vehicle has joined a cadre of but five others.  And it's dark.  Without guilt I park too far forward and too far to my right, essentially wiping out three parking places.

So I scurry up to the box office and get my ticket. It's dark out. I suppose now I won't have much trouble gettng in. ( Here's one positive in the day. The ticket guy gives me a scowl when I ask for the senior rate.)

I need to veer off here to give my non-media friends a little background. One of the benefits of working in the media is you often get free tickets to  movies. The movie people are wanting the media people talking about and promoting their creations.  Sometimes the tickets you get are for special premiers with packed houses.  Sometimes you get invited to little private preview showings. ("That's so you can lord it over your readers and viewers by essentially saying, "nyeh, nyeh, nyeh, nyeh, nyeh, nyeh. I saw it before you did.) Well private just means you and about 50 other Roper and Eberts are in the house. My point is it's not just you and Randolph Hearst taking in a flick after a swim in the Gold Leaf Pool at the castle. I now know what a  truly PRIVATE showing means.     

Okay, I'm a little early for my showing.  I want to make sure I get a seat. With the pressure seemingly off, I slowly amble to theatre number 7 of 12.  I can hear music as I'm walking in (InTheDark) but nothing is up on the screen yet.  Well, lo and behold, I'm the only one in the theatre at this juncture. No doubt there will be a rush just before the movie starts.  I take the next ten minutes and close my eyes to just kind of reflect on the strange day I've had up to this point. I open my eyes when the promotional annoncements start showing up on the screen. I stand up and do a slow 360 , and ams a bit surprised I am still alone.  Well surely someone will arrive before the previews.

Nope! The previews start and I'm still alone. (And It's Dark) These are all Disney trailers and I think they will never end. Will this theatre ever fill up? Phew! Just as the "Feature" reference comes up, I hear some giggling. I see three noisy little girls, I'd say 9 or 10 years old, turn into the theater and head up the arena stairs towards me.  I'm thinking there must be others right behind them? No!

Oddly, in a fairly large theatre by today's standards, they choose to sit right behind me, two rows back. I'm prepared to have them ruin the whole movie for me.  (And It's Dark.) But once the movie gets started,  they are quiet as mice. (Looking back, they may have been mice.)

So here I am getting a true private showing even though I have to pay the senior rate to get in.

QUICK MOVIE REVIEW. Interesting animation. Story Line? Chicken Little does Roswell, and has a strange,  violent encounter with the three Wizards of of Oz. Mama Wizard, Papa Wizard and Baby Wizard. Look out they all have three eyes and can turn into laser zapping robots whenever they want.  (And Its Dark) Bring  notebook for jotting down cliches.  The movie packs in a least of a hundred of them, including most of the music. Enough review. There is not a lot here I should refer to in class.

About mid movie I hear what I think is a male voice behind me. I do a 180 and I can't match a voice with a person or an apparition. (And It's Dark.) I do see the girls. They're there and that gives me some comfort. 

A couple of corny scenes later and the girls have tiptoed down the stairs heading for the lobby. It's late enough in the movie  I doubt they'll return. I'm all alone, I think.  (And It's Dark) I catch the happy father and son resolution of the movie (remind you of Nemo?) and start taking in the credits. (And It's Dark)  Then it happens. The giggling has returned. Somehow these girls had teleported themselves back into their seats behind me. Please tell me there are Deus Ex Machina contraptions in this theatre? Maybe just some secret tunnel contrived by teens as this generations way of getting in free? The girls reappearance is eerie enough in itself, but a middle aged male,  who seems to be a parent, has  joined them. (I'm pretty sure of this because it is no longer totally dark!) 

Just let me say it, "OOOOOHHHHH."

I get my fill of the credits when they start listing the "lighting techs"  and "best boys." I stand up to leave. I do another 360.  They're gone. How do they do that? I almost wish its still dark? 

One of the benefits of spending your adult life as a journalist is when you have a question, you ask it.  So I stopped by the ticket counter on my way out.

"How many seats does theatre 7 house?"

"417. Why do you ask?"

"Well how many tickets did you sell for that showing of "Chicken Little?"

"Just yours. Why?"

"Just curious. Thanks."

And then it was Dark Again.

I'm sure you could care less what I think Michael Eisner. But what I think,  is you may have gotten out just in time.

You know what? I just realized it's  Thursday night. Does that change anything?

He went what?

Flirtatious: "Here little fishy, come to daddy.  He won't hurt you."

Real Mood: Cleansed ( I just took a shower)

Prediction: "Oprah's show themes will bend in the direction of Jerry Springer's themes in November."  ( It's just a good idea for all of us to be aware that November is a big ratings month. Be patient. Another type of false reality will arrive in December.)

I started this entry very early this morning. I just wanted to get to Jacqui Jeras' (CNN early morning weather maven) fashion choices for the day.  Jacqui appears before the weather map in slim lined taupe slacks. The pants are accompanied by a fairly thick weave burgundy sweater. It has sublte vertical ribbing. It is sized tight, and very form revealing.  The neckline of the sweater is  loosely formed around the neck at the collar bone. There is a button on the sweater directly below the chin. About an inch below that button there is a teasing teardrop shaped opening,  revealing a modicum of skin. I feel confident few males watching have any interest in her "low pressure system."

Now if you want to talk "High Pressure," as in blood,  join me in being perplexed with the media adopting yet another "makes no sense" expression from the British Isles.

I don't know about you, but I've known some people who "went fishin."  I know some who "went mountain biking, camping, climbing, hunting, crazy." But I've yet to know anyone who "WENT MISSING."

I know people who've missed someone. I know people who've missed lunch. Then there are those who are missing a few fingers or toes.  But know what? None of them voluntarily traveled some place to arrive at those sets of circumstances.

Even if there is a small town in the sand hills of Nebraska called Missing?  You still wouldn't say, "I'm going Missing." And if queried on your whereabouts? I would not reply, "he went Missing."

To relax their voices I teach my announcing students to find a private place and practice "echolalia.' That's the language of toddlers that goes something like this.

"BaBaBooBooGooGooMuhMuhHeeHoHumHahHeyDaDaDADa.  It relaxes all those tight little muscles, tendons and ligaments in the larynx.   Call it vocal stretching. If toddlers do it we say, "ahhh, how cute." If we get caught practicing echolalia in adulthood, we get chased down by people with nets. But know what? Echolalia has some communicative purpose and value.

Saying, "he went missing" ain't worth spit. In the words of the 'Bard  of  Stratford', "pray you, avoid it." There are a whole bunch of ways  and reaons to quote Shakespeare.

You'll love this. In Lucy Carr's song, "Missing You?"  There is a repeated refrain that goes like this:

"Oh Da Da Day."  Arrest that woman before she goes missing! Look the lyrics up if you don't believe me.

Another burning domestic social issue I think we should be talking about? Do you or do you not rinse the dishes before you put them in the dishwasher?  Get back to me.

Stuff to Ponder

Flirtatious: "You know World, I think your outfit matches just about every color in the rainbow."

Real Mood: Splintered

Prediction: People we've heard, but never heard of,  will rebuild New Orleans.

I'm starting a new feature today. I'm no different than any of us when it comes to World Crises. I start watching too much CNN. So this time around I've been noticing a new weather person. At least she is new to me.  She does the early mornings and her name is Jacqui Jeras. I have no means of evaluating her prowess with doppler radar. But from what I've seen this woman knows fashion.  Well, since I know absolutely nothing about the subject, I think she knows fashion.

Jacqui wears a different outfit with a different color scheme every day. During one of the hurricanes, she changed outfits three times in one day.(It's good you weren't looking to me for damage estimates) And I have to say just about everything compliments her. Let's cut to the chase. Any day I write one of these entries, I hope to update you on the outfit of that day.

I first got the idea of doing this back on the 4th of November.  I can tell you that morning Jacqui was wearing a tailored pant suit with a fuchsia colored blouse. (Had to make a quick trip West so I missed the next three days) This morning, November 8th, she had on a tailored black dress, with a modest decolletage, adorned with a pearl necklace. Weather in Boston? I have no idea.

Join me if you like. We might get into some pretty good fashion round table discussions. Besides I've been trying to think of ways of making this journal more interactive. It can get pretty lonely and confusing when you're keeping company with just your own id and ego.

Here's the other way I hope to get a rise out of you.  I believe there are some critical social issues we might be able to resolve if we all put our heads together. I know some of these issues have torn relationships apart. What issues? Okay, let's start with this one.

Does your family drape the toilet paper over the top, or do they let it hang down in the back against the wall? I don't know what kind of fights you have at your house, but toilet paper draping discussions in this house can be heard a block away. I have my arguments, she has her arguments,  but I'm not going to tell where we SIT on this issue. I'd rather get your unfettered thoughts on the relative benefits of "up and over the top," or "around the back and down the wall." Let me know.

In case you've never noticed, the music I am allegedly listening to, ( A couple of times I really was listening to it) is just a way to set a tone and theme for that days posting.

There are quite a few people in the World I'd wished I'd met before they departed. (Departed or Passed?)  But I have to tell you Harry Nilsson tops my list. If you weren't with him in spirit,  you'd read his lyrics and swear he was reared on peyote instead of milk. Here's a line from "The Most Beautiful World in the World."

'Your a scary old place out there World, but I couldn't be happy without you.'

Whoa! Deep!

I think I've shared this in the past, but in case you missed it,  I judge people by my rule of whether I'd share a beer with them. I honestly think Harry and I would have killed a six pack. If you're not too squeamish about an occasional use of a four letter word, go find Harry's lyrics to "You're Breaking My Heart." I haven't heard that song in 20 years and I'm still laughing with catharsis.  It is the essence of, "Oh, been there, done that."

Anyway I think Harry would enjoy talking about Jacqui Jeras' fashion. And I can absolutely assure you he would weigh in on which way the toilet paper ought to roll.

Oh, by the way? The people we've heard, but haven't heard of, who will rebuild New Orleans? The musicians. I don't know where they are right now. But I can tell you they'll be blowing (as in horn) some life back in that place pretty soon now. Have a nice day.

The Origin of The Specious

Flirtatious: You ignite the cutaneous oils of my pulsating pectoral region.

Real Mood? Literally Pugnacious

Prediction: Tommorrow, somewhere in America, someone will use their entree fork on the salad. I'm not kiddin! It's going to happen.

Word usage is fun and sometimes it's fun to make fun of how they (words) are used.  Let's quickly review a few of my linguistic pet peeves.  I don't think all homo sapiens should be lumped into the phylum "Guys," and certainly not "Guyses." I would be mightily angry should I be referred to by the appellation "Gal," or me and my drinking buddies lumped together as "Galses."

I have a problem dropping the article "the", prior to hospital, to describe where a person might be going after being hit by a truck. It bothers me because it's a syntactic invasion of American English.  It's clearly not the way we've said it since The Revolution. But now with the international flavor of twenty four hour cable news channels, "going to hospital" is slowly becoming acceptable when it ought to be exceptable. Has it occured to anyone the reason they say it that way,  might be that under the British medical system, technically there really is just a single hospital? Just a guess. 

So here's my latest. It is the use of the word "Pass" in all it's forms,  to describe death. Was it really taking us too long to say, "Passed Away?" Where was the motivation, the very need to shorten it? Please stop to think of the dysfunction of using this already potentially confusing multi-functioning word to describe the sensitive biological act of dying.  Example, you say?

There's a bunch of guys sittin' around the Mercantile getting ready for a hot game of dominoes. Someone finally notices.

"Hey, where's Billy Bob?"

"Ain't ya heard?"

"Heard What?

"Billy Bob passed."

"So! That ol boy's been passin' gas for 50 years. It ain't ever stopped 'im from a good game of dominoes."

"No, I mean he PASSED."

"Are you pullin' muh leg? You mean he PASSED that drivin' test? The ol' goat don't even use 'is breaks. He just slows down til he 'its sumpin. We need some sorta warnin' system here in town that let's us know when he gets behind the wheel."

"No, dag nabit, yuh knuckle head, he PASSED."

"You tellin' me he seed us all a sittin' here waitin for 'im, and he just walked right on by? That ain't right in my thinkin."

"You straw brained nincompoop. Listen to me now! Billy Bob passed."

"Whatcha gettin' so upset about?  The way yer actin' you'd think somebody up and died."

I got more where that came from, but that ought to do the trick.

One might think the evolution of language to be a simple acceptance in time of how it's effectively used by uncomplicated people just trying to get by.

Or it's the work of creative synapses determined to expand the way we see things.  My old friend George Dehlmar was good at that. We were on campus together at Long Beach State in the 60's.  Out of no where, to fit the environment and circumstances, he would create language.

"So what's happenin' George?"  (It's true. We used to say things like that. "What's Happenin'?") 

"Think I'm gonna check out this flower and see what's bloomin'."

"Yeah?" Sometimes it was just better to humor him.

"Need to sound her out and get her rhythym. Dig?"

"Oh, right on. No, I don't dig George. Whaat in the hell are you talkin' about?"

"I'm just thinking about going over there and talking to that nice looking girl. If she is as pleasant  to talk to as she is looking, I'm going to ask her out."  

I miss George.

I'm finding the fracturing of our language comes from all fronts. If we're going to fight it we'll need to circle the word wagons. They're coming at us from all directions.

Heard of Amy Vanderbilt?  You'd need to be fairly long in the tooth (where did that one come from) to know about Amy. So to get us all on a 'level playing field,' (where did that one come from) Amy was a self appointed mistress of manners in this country. (I think she PASSED in the early 70's.) If you wanted to know where to place your salad fork? Check with Amy. If you wanted to be "Upper Crust" (where did that one come from) you did as Amy did. I'm telling you all this because you'd think, "here is a woman who is going to protect our language.  She will demand that we behave and speak properly."  So I stumbled on  to a couple of pieces of advice Amy was handing out.

" Do not speak of repulsive matters at table."

Looking for the "the?" It ain't there. We can't blame it all on Christianne Amanpour.

Here's some more Vanderbilt advice.

"Do not smokewithout asking permission, or sit so near that the smoke might annoy."

Huh? annoy who? Looking for a proper noun or pronoun to follow annoy? It will not be showing up. But let us be fair. Maybe Amy was uttering this piece of advice on her death bed. There was an upward inflection on "might annoy," and then (duh,duh,duh,duh) she just PASSED.

Christianne, friends of Billy Bob, George, and Amy I salute you. Without each and every one of you, this blog might bore at ball.  

I got a gripe

Flirtatious: What would happen if one of you Palace Guards smiled?  How about I tickle you right under the arm.

Real Mood: Facetiously incensed

Prediction: The next war between the U.S. and the British Empire will be a war of words.

This a story that's older than me, but I use it a lot to make a point. I'll be honest. I've updated it language wise, and applied a little self censorship so I can keep that PG 13 rating. Here's how old it is. I believe it was in Danny Thomas' standup routine in Chicago in the 50s.

So there is a Britisher wrapping up a fortnight stay in New York City. In the cab on the way to JFK it dawns on our Englishman, Reggie, " I don't have a bit of American humor to share with the chappies back at the club in London. I say cabbie is there an American joke in your tourist repertoire you might relate to me as we drive."

"Well, Mac, I ain't too good at jokes. But I could tells you a riddle."

"Pray do. Names Reggie, not Mac.:

"Okay Mac, it goes something like this.  Der's dese tree guys on a corner. One guy's on foot. One guy's on a bike. Duh tird guy's on a horse. Got dat?

"Yes, I believe I do."

"Okay deys all der on the corner, and dis broad comes walkin' by. Question is, here it comes now, which one of dese guys knew duh broad?"

"That is a tough one sir, it certainly is. I'll never guess in a millenium. Pray tell me the answer so I can share it with the chaps back at the club."

"Okay, Buddy. It's easy. The Horse man Knew 'er, heh, heh."

"Heh, heh, yes sir. Wonderful little riddle there. The chaps will be delighted. Names Reggie, not Buddy."

Reggie is so excited to share his new found humor he upgrades his flight to one last empty seat on the SST. He thinks he may burst before he's able to share this riddle.

Routine would have Reggie get off the plane, and immediately ring up his bride to let her know she should meet him at Kinsington Station.  Routine be damned. Reggie was heading for the club.  He arrives almost out of breath from excitement. Standing right in the middle of the Library swathed in leather, he boldly announces, "gather round chappies. I've a bit of American humor to share with you."

"Very well Reggie, proceed."

"Well there are these three gentlemen at a circus intersection. They are in no particular order, a pedestrian, a cyclist, and an equestrian."

"Yes, we have that Reggie. Go on."

"Well this delightful young lady passes by catching the eyes of our three gentlemen.  Well, the riddle question gents is which one of the gentlemen was actually acquainted with the woman."

"My, my Reggie, that's a dastardly poser. I'm not sure we've the time to ponder the response. I believe you are  just going to have to break code and tell us. Which gentleman was it Reggie?

"Well the equestrian knew her, but the answer is 'Horse Puckey', and I really don't get it myself.

This type of humor always gives all the sophistication to the British. Well, to that I say horse puckey. Ever since that seemingly nationless reportress Christianne Amanpour got into our network studios, we've been bending down to accept, and even at times adopt, British Empire slang. Example?

"The victims were flown to hospital."

My English teacher would have rapped my knuckles for leaving out the article, 'the.'  It makes me think I'm in the presence of a mother and her curious three year old daughter.

"Mommy, where Daddy?"

"Daddy went to hospital sweety."

"Me need pee Mommy!?"

"Where we go then sugar?"

"Go to toilet mommy. Daddy pee when go to hospital, mommy?"

" Not a doubt in my mind. Why else go to hospital. "

Come you CNN'rs, and all you network bureau reporters. Let Christianne be Christianne. Let's retrieve our 'the's. We won that war. They should be copying us, don't ya think Mac. 

Lost My Punch

Flirtatious: Heh, heh, heh, heh! Wanna try my "peanut butter" eyeball?

Real Mood: Ghastly. No that's not a typo. You be ghostly, I'll be ghastly.

Prediction: Photo Shop will ruin all the fun for the real ghosts.

What a crowd of ghoulies showed up last night. I was hoping to scare the heck out of the visitors to the door.  But you know how that goes sometimes.

First of all don't get yourself one of those candy dishes with the hand sticking out that is  supposed to say, "waannt soomme caandy??"   Cute, but they've all got one at home and have been playing with it for a week.

We got the full age range last night including a young mother who I'm pretty sure was collecting goodies for herself? The problem with the full age range is you can't get your scare act together before the door opens.  When you're putting on that evil grimace, you don't know whether they'll be looking at your eyes or your knees. 

I did have the duct tape on face, and I thought I had frightened a three year old with it. But right after her eyes got big she just reached up and pinched my nose. I don't speak "3 year old" but I think she was saying, "isn't that cute. I hope he doesn't think he's scaring me."

That comment of course beat the generic and very interpretable  pre-teen response.

"So what are you supposed to be?"

"I don't know. I was just trying to fit in."

"Alright you can be 'DUCT TAPE' man, but you're going to have to wrap you whole body in it, okay?"

"Okay."

I think that's when I shut the lights off and went to bed.

Maple's leaves are all gone.  

You can see the Robin's Nest very clearly now. That's picture number three.

And what an incredible "ghoulish" sunset. That's picture number four.

Mindy, who doesn't even have a car in New York, is driving around New Orleans in an SUV? Let's think good thoughts for her.   mediamindy.com.

Okay, let's start getting ready for Thanksgiving.