Only Europeans Take Vacations

Americans take "time off."

So it shall be with Self Help Radio. As the only person dumb enough to host it, me, goes to Dallas, Texas, home of the world's biggest hair, to see a nephew get recepted (since he's already married, he's holding a late reception) (I suppose the place one holds a reception is a receptacle) (also, one should really get a receipt if you pay for a reception) there will not be anyone to host the show for the coming week. It's best to let it skip a week than force a reluctant "guest host" to man or woman the helm of what is a clunky drive of a show.

Plus! When Self Help Radio returns, it'll be at a new time, which is Tuesdays at 9pm. The shows should be placed on the web, as long as the show is on Tuesdays, on Wednesdays therefore. Blog entries will be modified accordingly. Accordions will be entered modifyingly. I would like a refill now, barkeep.

See you in a little over a week! xox

The End Of The Argument

That's it! No more arguing. I'm putting a stop to it now.

I have heard all the arguments up to & including the last one, which is a pretty long argument, & which is preserved in audio form at the Self Help Radio website. It's going to take a while to get through it, actually. It's a little confusing.

If you must argue, you must then listen to the show. If you're tired of arguing, you can understand why by listening to show.

No! You can't argue with me. Listen to the show.

It's arguably fun to listen to.

Self Help Radio: Argument Clinic

Tonight - I'm not going to argue about this - Self Help Radio is on for the last time in May 2010 at midnight in Huntington on 88.1 fm WMUL. (Also, while supplies last, you can see a picture of me on that page. I won an award.) I'll avoid another disagreement with you by putting the show up without any further discussion tomorrow on selfhelpradio.net. Let's just keep the peace, all right.

Can I embed a video here? No? I don't know how. So go over here to YouTube to watch Monty Python's classic argument sketch. I still laugh when I see this. It's quite brilliant.

Stupid git.

Not you, I was just quoting the... Oh here we go again!

Preface To Arguments/Whither Arguments?

It's two blog entries in one!

I must confess, I have had my head somewhere up my ass the past couple of days & I completely forgot about this blog. I have been busy, of course, working hard on Self Help Radio... Oh, I can't lie to you. I have been daydreaming about next week when I get to return to Dallas to celebrate my nephew's wedding & then to Austin see old friends. Then the wife went away on some weird retreat with her women friends, & I just sat, daydreamed & listened to music. Meanwhile the days went by & this blog didn't make a peep. It just sat here, waiting for me, weeping to itself.

So I'm sorry.

I really don't have anything to say about the show.

But I will have some things to say about the show after this one, which will be in June, since I'll be away in Texas for a week.

We're not going to argue about this, are we?

& It Happened

What happened? Self Help Radio happened!

Last night, barely noticed & frankly barely noticeable, Self Help Radio peeked through the cracks to ask the question "What happened?" & that's all that happened. Self Help Radio happened.

Don't believe it? You can listen to the evidence right in front of your ears at selfhelpradio.net. It's convincing. & damning.

Fits Night Out

It so happened that Fits had a night out. It also happened that Fits found himself for no good reason having a night out in Huntington, West Virginia. It happened to be the case that Huntington doesn't really have much of what one might call a "night life." Fits even happened to notice that a popular sports bar closed before midnight. How, he thought to himself, did such things happen? He could have guessed the answer: that's how things happened in Huntington!

So he happened to turn on the radio. The dial happened to be tuned to 88.1, which happened to be, in the city of Huntington, WMUL fm. As it happened to be midnight on a Monday, Fits happened to catch the radio show "Self Help Radio," which happened that evening to have the theme "What Happened?" Since Fits did not now what happened, he listened.

As it happened, someone interrupted Fits & he missed some of the program. Yet he happened to hear the host says something about archiving the show later on selfhelpradio.net. It was fortunate he heard it! If that had not happened, he would not have heard the entire show.

& that's how Fits night out happened. Or has it happened yet?

Whither What Happened?

Do you love the question "whatever happened to?" Like, for example, say you're a fan of some obscure television show or movie, & you start thinking, whatever happened to that dude who played the dude that everyone was all like, "Duuuude" when he came in the room? I know a few actors & actresses leave the industry for a particular reason - if they're young, sometimes it's school - sometimes it's for family - but a lot of times it's because of drugs - & a lot of the time it's because their stars just fell.

Not that there aren't resurrections. Some people get magically saved, like Neil Patrick Harris. But others just - they just disappear. It's the nature of the thing.

Some stay in Hollywood, living (one assumes) on the money they happily saved when they had "hit" television shows or whatever. Some apparently tour with shows, appearing in small towns (like Huntington) with vehicles written for them or adapted from current or classic Broadway plays. Some of these, by the way, are just fucking weird. Like I saw a flyer at the university late last year for this:"Thank You For Asking", a play about the life of Lucille Ball - directed by her daughter.

I am assuming people went. After all, there are a lot of old people in this part of the world. It does have quite the whiff of desperation about it, though, doesn't it? Like there wasn't even enough material to make a Lifetime movie about Lucille Ball.

But if you're like me, you're occasionally fascinated to find out someone who was only in your peripheral vision is still alive & sometimes still working in the biz. You may even be saddened or titillated to discover they've met a tragic end. Also, perhaps, you have a sense of closure - after all, their Hollywood story is over. Maybe.

I do sometimes imagine I was slightly more famous a long time ago - I was the smart-ass fat kid in a Nickelodeon comedy of the early nineties who was always humiliated by the geeky protagonist, & I left the show for a bit part in one of the "Home Alone" films (probably the ninth) which my agent imagined would lead me to better roles. Instead, I couldn't get a job so I went back to school, got involved with college radio, & now, married & forgotten, I do a minor radio show in a small town in obscurity. I'm just waiting for the folks at VH1 to give me a call.

Preface To What Happened?: What Prefaced?

"Preface" is one of the those words, like "ascertain," that I read & knew the meaning of long before I heard it spoken, so when I myself first spoke it, I pronounced it wrong. (Yes, I said pre-face, not prefiss.) The same with "metropolis," now that I think about it (met-ro-pol-is, not me-trop-o-lis). Or "reprise," which I pronounced like in "reprisal." (I still do, in my head.) That's the astonishing thing about reading - though you're encouraged to look words up, but many times you simply suss meanings from context &, before you know it, you've added a word to your own vocabulary that "sounds" like it "sounds" in your head & whose "formal" meaning you've never actually cracked a dictionary to read. I remember the above words because someone corrected me, just like, recently, I corrected some kid at the radio station who referred to a band (it was the La's) as "the L-A's" (like you'd shorten Los Angeles) simply because no one had ever said their name out loud to him. Who knows how many words I learned that way?

I know I am not using the word "preface" entirely correctly, because of course a preface is technically an introduction to a book or other written work, not a radio show. I beg your indulgence. I also am grateful you haven't called me on it in - what - eight hundred some odd blog posts? Your restraint is appreciated. Or are you just ignoring me? You know who also ignores me? Little robots.

In fact, I have more to say about little robots but it's time to walk to doggins. Can we talk about little robots some more later? Or should I preface that with a more general discussion about robots of all sizes?

How To Successfully Rescue A Cat In This Day & Age

Do you know how you constantly see posters people put up for missing pets? They're so heart-breaking, & I can't even imagine what the statistics are about animals lost versus animals found. I find myself so saddened by each new flyer.

About a week ago, a neighbor went around & put a flyer in everyone's mailboxes (at least on our street) for this fellow:



The flyer said he was a male Maine Coon. He certainly is a handsome fellow, yes?

Last night, after my wife had worked all day & I had been sitting around all day listening to music & gaining weight, & specifically after dinner, I said to the wife, "I missed you today. Why don't we take the dogs out for a walk before it gets too dark & you can tell me extremely interesting stories of your academic world." Maybe I didn't say that last part, but I think that's what she heard, because that's what happened.

At the end of the walk, night already fallen, I saw a tiny cat on the fence of someone's house, & said hello to it, like I do. I didn't recognize it from the flyer, but the wife did. She made me drag the boys home (which was a chore, because of course they wanted to be with their mother, & oh boy a cat!) & try to find the flyer. We put the little kit in a cat carrier & I found the craigslist entry while she walked up the street & stole a flyer from an empty house's mailbox.

We were pretty sure it was Teddy, the cat in the flyer, but we called the number & we responded to the craigslist listing. Since the story has a happy ending, you know the cat made its way home, although the owner this afternoon (she was out of town last night) was still skeptical until she saw him. Teddy himself stayed in our guest room & availed himself of room service, as he was very hungry from being out in the world for over a week.

So how do you successfully rescue a cat in this day & age? Pay attention to the flyers! Pay attention to strays! Be more like my wife, not like me - don't just say hello to neighborhood cats, but look them in the eye & say, "Didn't I see your picture on a telephone pole?"

The owner of Teddy wanted to give a reward, but I told her the only reward we wanted was to make sure he stayed indoors. I told her if we found him out & about again, we'd keep him. He was a very sweet little cat.

I'm glad he's home.

The Case Of The Inflammable Pajamas!

If you want to solve this case, just remember, the words "inflammable" & "flammable" mean the same thing!

The clues are sprinkled all over this week's episode of Self Help Radio with some extra clues kinda shoved difficultly into this week's episode of Sugar Substitute. Sure, the shows purport to be parts 27 & 28 of the "Indiepop A To Z" series but surely you know that things aren't always what they seem!

You can solve the crime in no time (well, ninety minutes each) by listening to either show exclusively at selfhelpradio.net. Do it soon! Or else the bad guys get away with it!

But What If I Can't SEE Tonight?

Y'see, I had an eye exam today. I am getting older & it's getting hard to read when I am in my bed at night. So I went & during the exam, my eyes were hella dilated. If the wife hadn't brought me some sunglasses, I don't think I could've made it home in the bright afternoon sun.

It's better now, though, so I don't know what I was worried about. I do a radio show at night! It's dark! Dilated pupils are perfect for that.

Did I say tonight? I'd better get crackin'! Midnight, 12 o'clock am, WMUL, 88.1 fm in Huntington. Will you miss it? Don't worry! It'll be archived on selfhelpradio.net. I promise.

Whither Indiepop A To Z # 27?

Also, since Sugar Substitute will be following, I'll be doing Indiepop A To Z # 28.

But let's talk today about motherfuckers. Because, according to my Ziggy desk calendar, that's what today is. That Ziggy, he's so outrageous. I just think, wow, that's weird, because you'd think, with the number of motherfuckers you meet all the time, that every day is Motherfucker's Day.

I can see, however, that some people might be offended by this. Bad Ziggy! Still, they might also be offended by the full story of Anna Jarvis, the West Virginian who founded Mother's Day, who came to hate how people celebrated it. (You know, like they celebrate every holiday.)

As for the indiepop stuff, look. I started it, I'll try to finish it. At least we're in the Fs. It could be worse. We could be stretching this out longer than it should be stretched out. A show every other year. Now there's a smallish chance it may one day be finished. Probably not, but still.

Onward.

Preface To Indiepop A To Z # 27: OH NO NOT AGAIN

Oh yes yet again!

Going to Columbus now... We'll talk tomorrow.

I've Been To Lonelier Parties

Kristin stumbled over cracked concrete. She smoothed her skirt mechanically with her free hand, the cigarette in the other letting some of its ash fall. Behind her, she heard Alex do nearly the same thing - only in heels.

"Where the fuck does he live?" Alex said.

The street was dark, the lights strangely unlit though it was past dusk, early evening. Clouds had rolled in but decided to stay. Last night the moon was almost full, & the summer stars had been weirdly bright.

"That's his SUV," she said, though she didn't point. Or Alex couldn't see if she had.

They could hear laughter & chatter on a dark nearby porch. The plastic creaking of a cooler opening, followed by the rustling of wet ice as a bottle was lifted out, gave clues to the women though they still couldn't see anything or anyone.

"Someone didn't pay their bills," Alex muttered.

"I think they just haven't turned on any lights," said Kristin.

They heard the sounds of some Eagles' greatest hits record as someone opened a door, & Kristin turned to Alex & said, "Of course they're listening to that shit."

"Snob," laughed Alex, as she stood side-to-side with Kristin at the top of the sidewalk.

"Kristin!" a voice called out, & David was soon in front of them, holding a sweaty beer, pleased to meet Alex, offering her a damp hand.

The Eagles were replaced over time with Hall & Oates, or perhaps a band doing Hall & Oates covers, because the lead singer was a woman. Alex had been sitting on the back porch watching a small group start a fire, which they stood around, watching. Occasionally an insect zapped itself to death in unearthly blue at the far end of the porch, but Alex had gotten used to that sound. She had said something to someone earlier about wishing she had not quit smoking.

Kristin said, "Hey."

Alex said, "Hey."

Kristin said, "Are you ready to go?"

Alex said, "You want to go already?"

Kristin said, "Well, it's nearly one. Didn't you have that brunch thing?"

"I don't feel like I drank anything at all." She felt for the beer bottle at her side, shook it to remind herself it was empty.

"Hey," Kristin said, "you missed the whole porn party thing."

"What porn party thing?"

"David's friend George has a video camera," Kristin said. "He has apparently been visiting these web sites that are supposed to be like amateur porn filmed on parties. He spent the night trying to get people to have sex on camera."

"Oh no."

"He kept coming up to women & asking us to pretend it was Mardi Gras."

"Good lord."

Kristin laughed. "Someone took his camera away. Then they videotaped him throwing up in the bushes outside."

"Ha ha," Alex said.

"Do you mind," Kristin asked, "if I have one more cigarette before we go?"

"Sure," said Alex, & Kristin went inside again.

A sudden light in the corner of the backyard was shone on a balding, pudgy guy with a ponytail urinating by the back fence. The light came from a video camera. The handful of people in the backyard burst into laughter.

"Fuck you!" said George. "Fuck all y'all!"

The Secrets Of The Postal Service Revealed!

I could send it in a letter to you, but I'd rather play it on the radio if you don't mind. Tonight! An entire Self Help Radio dedicate to women named Brown. Not performing, but, rather, in song. Jenny Brown, Lucy Brown, Bonnie Brown, Fanny Brown, even sweet Georgia Brown. Miss Brown, they'd say, to you. Doesn't that sound cool? It is!

Tonight, as I've said, at midnight sharp, on 88.1 fm WMUL in Huntington; archived later on selfhelpradio.net. If you name is Miss Brown - or even Mrs. Brown - the show is dedicated to you!

Whither The Lovely Miss Brown?

I once heard a story about a martial arts master who would tour high school auditoriums (auditoria?) & provide demonstrations to the students of the arts of self-defense &, if the audience were perhaps older, in meditation & the Eastern philosophies which provided the underlying reasons for entering into the discipline in the first place. The sinister secret was that the reason this martial arts master did what he did, going to elementary, middle, & high schools to throw children around, was because he was a convicted pedophile, & in fact (this was in the days before sex-offender databases), most of the time he was around the children it was quite illegal & could have gotten him thrown back into jail, if the authorities knew he was embracing children to "teach" them how to defend themselves. The fact was, this man was not trying to help the children at all; he would use the process to select his next victim, & in fact gain their trust so he could abuse them later.

I heard another story about him in which he travelled & taught not because he was a pervert, but because he had had a child who had been attacked & killed by a mugger or a bully & he regretted not teaching his child how to fight off such an attack because, you know, he wanted his child to study & become a doctor or lawyer or something "better" than he was. This story ends with the martial arts master by sheer coincidence teaching the selfsame bully who had killed his child &, recognizing him, breaking his neck on the spot. He goes to jail, maybe even gets the death penalty, but he has his revenge.

Both versions of the story appear to satisfy some lurid desire in the teller (&, the teller hopes, the listener) to either reiterate how vulnerable our children are or to satisfy our sense of revenge &/or irony. In both cases, though, the story is most definitively false, based on some banal backstory, embellished to have a point, be it shock value or a storyline. I happen to know that backstory, which goes like this:

There was a martial arts master in a medium-sized suburb who had a small strip mall "academy" & who would occasionally visit nearby middle schools & do a canned, dull demonstration, which mainly consisted on him throwing around his assistant. The long-suffering assistant was also his mistress, who had somehow fallen for him & his corny charisma, & on whom he took out his frustrations, & for whom he promised he'd leave his wife but never would. At one school, a teacher who had been reading contemporary accounts of child abuse & devil worship in child care centers, fueled by the false-memory-syndrome debacle, became convinced that the martial arts master, who, as I said, would occasionally talk about the Tao or perhaps Zen, was a Satanist & imagined that he was "collecting" children for devious rituals, & began to enlist parents in her concern. The martial arts master, unable to prove that he wasn't a Satanist, lost his school gigs, & eventually his students at his "academy" disappeared. He was fortunate to avoid criminal charges & jail time, but of course his marriage was broken & even his assistant left him, both women in his life unsure whether this man whom they thought they knew was really a pedophile. He began to drink & spent the rest of his lonely life working in a convenience store in a part of town nowhere near a school.

Okay, I confess I don't know if that's the real story, but I like it better than the first two.

Preface To The Lovely Miss Brown: Have I Ever Known A Miss Brown?

I don't think I have. I knew a few dudes named Brown in high school, but I don't think I knew a girl named Brown.

This is weird, because, according to the wikipedia, "According to the 1990 United States Census, Brown is the fifth most common family name in the United States... essentially identical in frequency to Jones." & I've known a couple of women whose last name was Jones.

I will research famous Miss Browns for the show. In the meantime, if you're a woman I know whose surname is Brown & I've forgotten about you, do let me know. I'll dedicate the show to you.

I'm a little weirded out by this - I just went through my old email - I apparently don't know any women whose last name is Brown.

I am going to go out in the rain right now to meet some!

The Untimely Cat Cartoon Intervention

For this particular animated feature, Gus intended to subvert the whole cat vs. dog paradigm. Not a cat which outsmarted a dog - that had happened thousands of times - but a cat ]who was simply physically stronger than a dog. & not a giant cat versus a tiny dog, no; a normal sized tomcat versus your average cartoon bulldog. It would be unexpected & hilarious.

Gus' son, also named Gus, who often lent his voice to his father's cartoons, disagreed. "I don't understand, papa," he said, "why is the cat strong?"

"He's just strong," said the father.

"Does he eat spinach like Popeye?" asked little Gus.

"No, he's just strong."

The youngster couldn't wrap his brain around it. "Does he exercise? Does he take a pill? Did he find a genie? Is he magic? Is he a cat from another planet? Is he a cat from the future?"

"No, no, no," the older Gus tried to explain. "He just happens to be stronger than the dog. It's just how he's built. Have you ever known someone who, even if he is small, he's still stronger than a bigger guy?"

Young Gus thought about & said, "I guess so."

"This cat is like that! He just happens to be stronger than most other cats!"

"But even stronger than a dog?"

Gus nodded happily. "Yes!" he said. "That's what makes it funny!"

"But," said his son, "it doesn't make any sense!"

Gus thought about that sentence for a long time, & wondered at what age - if it happened at all - children understood absurdity. & then he rewrote the cat versus dog cartoon so the weaker cat outsmarted the beastly dog.

& his son Gus laughed & laughed.

Officious; Meddlesome; Prying

That's my favorite definition of "busy": officious; meddlesome; prying. It really only survives in the phrase "busy body."

My second favorite definition of "busy" is: ornate, disparate, or clashing in design or colors; cluttered with small, unharmonious details; fussy.

Fussy! If there's one thing Self Help Radio is, it's fussy.

Don't believe me? You can't be too busy to listen to last night's Self Help Radio show, which had the theme "busy busy busy!"

Go to selfhelpradio.net & download it. Listen to it when you get a break from your busy day. Or while you're doing busy work. Or if you're just trying to look busy.

A Busy Night Tonight

You know, because I have a radio show to do. Might you take time out of your busy night to listen? It'll happen at midnight here in Huntington on 88.1 fm WMUL. Self Help Radio starts then; Sugar Substitute starts at 1:30. I get busy on both programs.

Too busy? Then please take some time out of your busy week to visit selfhelpradio.net where I will archive the program after it's done, probably tomorrow afternoon. You can then listen to it anywhere! & while you're on-the-go!

Self Help Radio - butting into busy lives since 2002.