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.

Whither Busy Busy Busy?

Eeep! I don't know what to write in this entry! I've been staring at a blank screen for too long! I am writing things like "eeep!" I am also thinking of rhymes for "busy"! There aren't many, actually: dizzy izzy lizzy tizzy. Unless you want to include hip-hop terms, like fo-schnizzy.

Oh, there's also citrusy. Is that a word? It's a delicious word! Maybe it counts as a "close rhyme."

Then there are words that look like they should rhyme with busy but don't: jealousy, lousy, mousy. I mean, they end with "usy" don't they? But they don't rhyme. Not even with each other! Now my brain hurts.

I love close rhymes, by the way. I think they're clever. Some folks, though, hate them & don't think they're rhymes at all. Fuck 'em, I say. If it sounds like it rhymes, it feels like it rhymes, it motherfucking rhymes.

I did have a problem this week, while trying to think of "busy" songs, of accidentally thinking of "dizzy" songs. Like the song "Dizzy" by Throwing Muses. I could have sworn the song went "busy busy busy in my head."

Here's a video of Throwing Muses performing that song live: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PhlwhorM1uA.

Did that answer the question posed above? Was it supposed to?

Preface To Busy Busy Busy: Too Busy To Write In The Blog

Is it ironic that the week before the busy show is a busy one?

For example, yesterday, Friday, I travelled over four hundred miles, most of them in Ohio. If that's not busy, I don't know what is.

& on Thursday, I emceed a local Earth Day event. I'd like to tell stories about it but I'll wait until I'm a safe distance away.

On Wednesday, I did something I am ashamed of. I think I did it more than once. I also think that it wasn't until I did it more than once that I was ashamed.

On Tuesday, I slept because I was up late Monday doing a radio show. That's also something I am ashamed of.

I was busy on Monday day & Sunday, too, but the theme wasn't officially "busy busy busy" so it doesn't count anymore.

Today? I was too busy even to write in this blog. Until. Wait. I did!

Into The Wilds

I'm going to The Wilds today.

What is The Wilds? "The Wilds is one of the largest & most innovative wildlife conservation centers in the world. Located on nearly 10,000 acres in southeast Ohio, it is home to rare & endangered species from around the world living in natural, open-range habitat, as well as home to hundreds of indigenous species. In addition to innovative, in-depth science & education programs, the Wilds offers guided experiences to the public on selected days May through October."

I have a feeling that the old rhinoceros there will think I'm deliberately mocking him. Just by the way I look. & then he'll charge!

4/19 Is Mushroom Code

(I am reprinting this from the alerts I send to my Facebook fans. Do YOU want to be a fan of Self Help Radio on Facebook? You can do that by clicking here!)

So last night, someone called & said to me, "Oh wow! I can't believe you're doing a MUSHROOM show on 4/20!" I confessed it was entirely coincidental, which disappointed the caller, but the more I think about it, even though my show is on at midnight, which is technically the Tuesday, *I* still think it's Monday. I say "Monday nights at midnight." So I didn't do a mushroom show on 4/20 - I did it on 4/19.

Which, as everyone knows, is police code for "fat naked man talking to himself at bus stop in deserted neighborhood." Which is perfect for Self Help Radio!

The show has sprouted virtually overnight at selfhelpradio.net. The playlist is below. It's up to you to decide which mushroom songs are poisonous & which are safe to listen to. I am not a mycophagist.

Thanks for listening!

I Read That I Recited

Do you remember haikus? I used to read haikus from listeners on Self Help Radio many moons ago. I would also archive them here, on this blog. For example, here are the haikus from my "sleepy" show nearly four years ago. Four years ago! I'm old.

The reason I bring up haikus is that, on tonight's show, which is about mushrooms, John Cage will read a haiku about mushrooms. It's a recording of course. He's long since passed into that avant-garde silence called death. I will not be trying to impersonate John Cage on the radio. I can barely impersonate a literate fellow.

What's that? Tonight's show? Yes! Self Help Radio will be on at its regular time, midnight, here in Huntington, on 88.1 fm WMUL, & of course archived later at selfhelpradio.net.

Only one haiku per toadstool, though.

Whither Mushrooms?

Does it bother you that the toad - the TOAD! - is the only animal in the animal kingdom that gets its own stool? THE TOAD!

Sure, elephants can sit anywhere they damn well please, & most scary carnivores get offered whatever seat is available by virtue of the fact that seats empty when they arrives. Yet it is the lowly toad - THE TOAD! - who, over & above all the fauna, gets a designated place to sit. It is an outrage!

Look at it from the point of view of the fungus as well. The mushroom - the toadstool oh how I hate to use that word - is merely the outward part of the fungus, used to send spores out for reproduction. The real action is happening below the ground. You know as well as I how attention-shy most fungi are, but still - imagine if one part of you were designated a "fly lounger" or a "mouse chair" - when really it was your right temple, or perhaps your left elbow - & that was all people talked about in regards to your anatomy - wouldn't that grate? Would you not feel chagrin?

The modest fungus must burn with embarrassment & resentment when a part of it is called a "toadstool."

Though I confess it must be worse when the toads use the toadstool as a stool.

What is the fungus to do? Who made the decision to partition a part of itself & designate it, not just as a general sitting place for smaller forest creatures, but for the much-despised toad - THE TOAD! - who did this? Who? Who?

The answer is likely lost, like many other injustices, in the haze of time & its shrouded past.

Self Help Radio seeks vindication for the poor fungus whose mushrooms got labelled toadstools.

I mean, really, THE TOAD!?!

Preface To Mushrooms: Pizza?

Am I showing my old age when, at the mention of "mushrooms," the first thing I think about is pizza & not psychedelic drugs?

But it's true, nowadays eating good food trumps heady hallucinatory experiences. Good food is also what's in the forefront of my mind when vacations loom. I have to go to my nephew's wedding reception in a month &, while I'm happy for the little doofus, I will be happier to be in Dallas to eat at my favorite Ethiopian restaurant. Interestingly, I don't think they use mushrooms in Ethiopian food.

In fact, the wife & I are traveling to Columbus next week to go to delicious vegan restaurants there, & especially to this place, which is an amazing vegan bakery.

Well! All this talk about food is reminding me to eat lunch. Ciao for now!

P.S. Like melons last weeks, mushrooms are another food I don't much like. What the hell is wrong with me?

That One Friday Moment

"Did you drop this banjo?" the not-well girl said to the sleep-deprived man, pointing at a paper airplane on the pavement.

The sleep-deprived man did not hear her, but he did see her. He was convinced he was walking down a street in a dream. As a rule, he was sure he heard no sound in his dreams, believing instead that everyone in his dreams communicated telepathically, & because of his sleep-deprived state, his brain shut off his sonic comprehension when it perceived the not-well girl in front of him was moving her lips. Speaking! In a dream! It didn't happen.

The not-well girl seemed to be having trouble staying upright, but despite her swaying, she managed to stay vertical. While she wasn't exactly having hallucinations, it was true that her vision was impaired, & in addition to that, circuits misfiring in her brain were confusing words. She held up a hand to the sleep-deprived man & said, "I promise, no one has ever repainted the salt & pepper shakers!"

The sleep-deprived man has recently suffered some sort of major loss - a job, perhaps, or a fond relative - & found himself unable to close his eyes. Like drink, lack of sleep kept him intoxicated & forgetful. The not-well girl did not look like she was doing very well, & despite her pitiful silence, she seemed emphatic in her miming. He moved closer to her just as she began a collapse.

He fell with her.

"It's like watching paint peel!" she screamed as they fell to the sidewalk. The sleep-deprived man hit his head on a rusty bolt securing a public trash receptacle to the concrete, & it cut into his skull so that a trickle of blood began to roll down the right side of his head & onto his ear.

Three bystanders had gathered around the sprawled pair, the sleep-deprived man under the not-well girl, the one stone-still with eyes wide open, the other frail & twitching, pale as morning light. Cell phones were out & the passers-by who didn't want to get involved still managed to slow their pace & have a look.

The sleep-deprived man thought he saw the entire sky about to come down on him, but he felt, at that moment, that he perhaps deserved it, & with the pressure on his chest he thought was his body full of righteous adrenalin, he silently bade it come.

The not-well girl, who had no idea what was happening to her, still managed to understand that a kindness had been done to her, & she turned her thin face to stare directly at the sleep-deprived man's bloody ear. "I have done fruitful things," she said gratefully.

Ripe Melons On The Vine

It's too bad the word "melon" has naughty connotations. Every time I say it I feel my inner Benny Hill coming out.

(Benny Hill died a lonely death, in a chair, in front of a television. I need to read a biography of him, because I am a little obsessed with how lonesome his life was.)

But I managed not to mention "melons" in the sense of "women's breasts" at all on last night's Self Help Radio. Which means it is therefore fun for the whole family. Hey! & if you want to make your family listen to it, it's on the vine at selfhelpradio.net!

Just watch where you spit those seeds!

Sleepiest Of Sleepies

I've been eating nothing but melons for an entire week & boy are my teeth tired. Do you know the saying "Too many melons makes Mark a cranky case?" No? That's weird, I hear it all the time amongst my melonheaded friends. In any event, I am not sure there's enough to sustain us, even on all these melons, but I have learned to spit watermelon seeds very, very far.

Did you know that the watermelon was cultivated in China over a thousand years ago? But the Vietnamese claim they had the watermelon before the Chinese. Indeed, they have a legend about Prince Mai An Tiêm, who was an adopted son of one of the Hùng Kings (as opposed, you know, to the Wel Hùng Kings). Says the Wikipedia, "When the prince was exiled unjustly to an island, he was told that if he could survive for six months, he would be allowed to return. When he prayed for guidance, a bird flew past & dropped a seed. He cultivated the seed & called its fruit western melon, because the birds who ate it flew from the west." But wait! Doesn't that mean the bird (is "dropped a seed" a metaphor for pooping?) got the seed from somewhere? Like Africa, where it is thought watermelons originated?

That's neither here nor there, of course, as I am not a prince nor am I related to the Hùng Kings, & I think my skin is turning orange from all the melon I've consumed. Do listen to me regurgitate all the melons have taught me this week tonight on Self Help Radio, which will air at midnight on 88.1 fm WMUL & then later it'll be archived at selfhelpradio.net. & from tiny seeds shall fat melons grow!

Whither Melons?

You: Yeah, what's up with that? You don't even like melons!

Me: How... How did you know that?

You: You're very vehement in your dislike of melons. I'm sure you've mentioned it many times before.

Me: I have?

You: Doesn't that sound like something you'd do?

Me: I don't have to like the subject I pick for the show. I did a show about butchers...

You: Just to make people sick about eating meat.

Me: That's not true!

You: Are you saying you don't have an agenda?

Me: Oh, I'm sure that there are things I feel strongly about which I...

You: I bet you don't even like watermelon gum.

Me: Actually, the "melon" taste of candy is different from the taste of the fruit which...

You: I once saw you spit out a Jolly Rancher.

Me: That's a weird thing to say.

You: I think you're trying to curry some kind of favor with your wife or something.

Me: What?

You: She's always eating some kind of melon.

Me: But she doesn't even listen to the show!

You: You are a hypocrite.

Me: Me?

You: Eat this melon.

Me: No! No! I won't!

You: It's sweet & juicy & very, very ripe.

Me: No! I don't like melons!

You: You must eat this melon!

Me: Can't I just play a song about it instead?

Preface To Melons: No, Not That Kind Of Melon

If one wants one's mind cleared up about difficult definitions, one could do worse than to visit the Urban Dictionary. Here, for example, are five of its entries for the word "melon."

1. n. cranium, skull, brain case, brain box
I slipped my hat onto my melon today in hopes of keeping my scalp from getting sunburned.

2. n. A single breast. See melons.
One melon was larger than the other.

3. n. someone stupid or someone performing an activity with seemingly no intelligence; shortened form of "melonhead"
He just ran into that fence. He's a melon!

4. n. A round & juicy fruit that is usually about the size of a football. It is commonly sliced up & de-seeded before serving. There are quite a few variants of the fruit including the popular watermelon.
Might there be some watermelon in your fridge?

5. v. The act of smacking another's forehead as a sign & act of derision.
That wicker fool done gone swiped my pewter so I gone & laid a melon on him.

Definition number 4, of course, is the one Self Help Radio will be focussing on & of course the most common use. But wow! I totally forgot about calling one's head a melon! Bugs Bunny would be mad at me.

& definition number 2 is inappropriate for the radio.

Courtesy Call

When Mr. Phobe got his courtesy call at six o'clock in the morning, he let his eyes slowly adjust to the blue darkness in his room before edging off the bed & trying to remember where the bathroom was. Every hotel had a slightly different arrangement, & he was always in a different hotel. He had forty-minutes for a shower & all his other morning ablutions, & then he would have to go outside, determine what city he had found himself in, & begin his day.

As he was shaving, he remembered something strange about the courtesy call. His mind was always foggy up until he shaved; he believed it came into focus so he wouldn't slash his throat or something similar, since he used a straight razor. Always had, just like his father always had. & the use of the straight razor did focus his mind, woke him up actually, much as folks who needed a cup of coffee used the caffeine to sharpen their thoughts. He actually sharpened his thoughts with a steel blade. He said that aloud to himself & chuckled.

Was it something the woman said in the courtesy call? Usually it's a short sentence, something like, "Mr. Phobe, this is your courtesy call, it's six o'clock in the morning." The bigger chains had automated the process, which is why he tended to favor smaller hotels, or bed & breakfasts if he could find one. This morning, it had been a peculiar female voice - therefore it wasn't a recording - but she hadn't stuck to the script, she had said something unusual. What had it been?

He knew a thought like this would torture him for the rest of the day if he allowed it to. After he had dressed, he went downstairs to the small breakfast nook in this small hotel & got hot water for his tea. He saw an idle hotel worker & asked him pleasantly who made the courtesy calls in the morning. But the worker was unhelpful, even a little insolent, so Mr. Phobe left unsatisfied, even a little embarrassed to have asked. Yet he knew the unclear recollection would gnaw on him for the rest of the day, & he went to the front desk.

"Good morning, sir," said the young lady there.

"Good morning, young lady," said Mr. Phobe. "I have what might be an odd question. Who makes the courtesy calls in the morning?"

"Courtesy calls?" she asked with a smile.

"Yes," he said, "the courtesy call, to wake me up in the morning."

"Oh," she said, shaking off the confusion, "we don't call those courtesy calls. We call them 'wake-up calls.'"

Mr. Phobe didn't know how to respond.

"A courtesy call," the young lady at the front desk went on, "is what telemarketers commonly call their solicitations, to sugar-coat or otherwise obscure their intrusions. There's also a diplomatic courtesy call, which is probably where telemarketers & other salespeople got the term. But of course the 'courtesy call' in the telemarketer sense is the exact opposite of courtesy. It is, in fact, incredibly discourteous, often made at hours when one wants most to be with family or to relax. The calls made for the purpose of getting the consumer's money, not to help them in any way."

Mr. Phobe could not think of any sort of reply. He said, "Thank you," & turned away.

But now he had a bigger problem. He had been calling his wake-up calls "courtesy calls" nearly his entire life. What exactly, then, were his wake-up calls?

When LIKE Turns To DISLIKE!

That doesn't sound too threatening, does it? Not like when LOVE turns to HATE! That sounds awful!

If you like Self Help Radio, I hope that this week's show, called "What I Like," doesn't make you dislike it. However, if you dislike Self Help Radio - & seriously, who could blame you? - maybe this show will make you like it. Probably not, but hobos spring eternal.

It's in its usual place (the show, not the hobo) (didn't Emily Dickinson say that hobos are the things with feathers? maybe she meant after being run out of town with tar & stuff) which is selfhelpradio.net. I would like it if you listened to it. I would like it more if you liked it.

However - it may soon turn to DISLIKE - so listen fast!

(How does one listen fast?)

The Difference Between 'I Like' & 'I Love'

Is there one?

Perhaps 'I Like' is meant to mean that you spend a great deal of time & attention on the object of your liking, but 'I Love' means you have something like an obsession. For example, "I like cheese & I like potatoes, but I love cheese fries!"

Not to imply that there needs to be a correlation between the likes & loves. Another example could be, "I like traveling to Ohio but I love getting Swedish massages!"

In any event, strong feelings or no, there will be many things listed that are liked on tonight's Self Help Radio. It will air at midnight in Huntington, West Virginia, on 88.1 fm WMUL, & then will be placed on a dusty shelf for you to stare at on the Self Help Radio website.

Perhaps many secrets will be revealed! Or perhaps further confirmation of my utter dorkiness will be provided. Either way, I hope you listen.

Whither What I Like?

Daniel Falsename of Winner Lakes, West Oregonia writes,

Dear Self Help Radio,
I see that your upcoming show is entitled "what I like." This disturbs me. I'll tell you why.
I and my grandmother Sam, who doesn't like your show because she can't understand what a radio is, we always assumed that whatever you played on the show was what you liked. I understand that other deejays at commercial radio stations have to play things that they don't like, but never Self Help Radio!
But if you now are presenting a show called "what I like," what am I and my grandmother Sam to think except that everything previously had been not at all what you like, and now you are finally, after forty years on the air, playing what you like.
Can that be? If so, what am I and my grandmother Sam to do?
Yours etc.
Daniel Falsename

Thanks for the letter, Daniel. I understand your concern but unfortunately, you're partially correct. As you might have read in The Wall Street Journal or perhaps Auto Trader, Self Help Radio, formerly a cooperative entity owned by all its employee, has been acquired by a wealthy multinational based on Easter Island (or rather a houseboat floating somewhere nearby - apparently the multinational is really creeped out by the big head statues) & the former host, Gary, has been replaced by a new host, Gary (me). To distinguish myself from the previous Gary, I am beginning my tenure on the series by stating obviously what I like. After that, I will be forced to play what the multinational likes.

Remember! The old Self Help Radio answered your letters! The new one, well, maybe not so much.

Preface To What I Like: The Athens Of Ohio

Do you like that expression? Some people describe some cities as other cities. For example, because of the increasing number of movies & television shows being shot there, some might call Vancouver "the Hollywood of Canada." Or because of its horrible weather, Molly Ivins (I think) once called Houston "the Calcutta of the Western World." It's part of the human love affair with analogies.

Since it was known as the birthplace of democracy & science, among other things, Athens is always well-regarded (at least among people who like democracy & science, although revisionists who hate the implication "white people" {if you can even call them that twenty-five thousand years ago} inventing such things somehow makes them "better" than other races {see my Carl Sagan quote below})& people love to call a place "the Athens of whatever."

WIkipedia lists nineteen cities called Athens in the United States, although there are probably more. The most famous is Athens, Georgia, where a lot of bands in the "alternative" music spectrum have come from & continues to come from. Today I am traveling for the first time to Athens, Ohio, also a college town but one unlike Huntington, which is nearly two & a half times larger, but which doesn't appear to have nearly (if any) of the common appurtenances of college towns. Marshall University is weird like that.

Of course, "the Athens of Ohio" means something different than "Athens, Ohio." But surely they named it that, though, in the hopes that the name would somehow make Athens, Ohio, the "Athens of the United States." Or at least of Ohio.

NOTE:
Here's a Carl Sagan quote that will piss off racist scum & hopefully assuage the resentment of insecure folks not of a "Greek" or "Western" heritage about the idea that democracy & science were invented in Athens (this is from "Cosmos"):

"China and India and Mesoamerica would, I think, have tumbled to science too, if only they had been given a little more time. Cultures do not develop with identical rhythms or evolve in lockstep. They arrive at different times and progress at different rates. The scientific world view works so well, explains so much and resonates so harmoniously with the most advanced parts of our brains that in time, I think, virtually every culture on the Earth, left to its own devices, would have discovered science. Some culture had to be first. As it turned out, Ionia was the place where science was born."

Whoa

I can't think of anything to write today. I think my mind is just a little blank. I mowed the lawn, I did some work for the radio station & I have to forage for my own food tonight because the wife has to do something with academics or something. I don't really know because I wasn't really listening because I've learned to tune out.

I was reading about this writer named Gary Indiana (& no, I don't just like him because of his name, although his real first name is Gary & he was born during the height of the popularity of the name Gary, thanks to the actor Gary Cooper, whose real name isn't Gary, but who was named Gary by his agent who was from - ta-da! - Gary, Indiana) & although I've never read any of his books, I remember reading something from him in The Nation about what he felt the Democrat's political platform should be in 2004, & while I am ordering one of his books online, I'll share this with you & hope it doesn't offend either him or The Nation:

"Ratify the Kyoto Protocol and withdraw from NAFTA and the WTO. Replace the World Bank and the IMF with a single Islamic structure that doesn't charge interest. Offer tax credits for the purchase of small, fuel-efficient automobiles. Cut taxes for individuals and couples who decide not to reproduce. Make abortions available and free at shopping malls, along with blood- pressure and glucose-tolerance tests.
Cut the military budget in half to fund healthcare, childcare, education and job training. Cut the remaining half by another half to rebuild urban infrastructures and expand public transportation. Cut the remaining half in half and give it to the families of civilian casualties in Afghanistan and Iraq.
Restore full civil rights to convicted felons who have served their sentences in our gulags, the vast majority railroaded by the plea-bargaining process. Pay ex-convicts $100 an hour to meet their parole officers. Revise the grand jury system to allow defendants legal representation and the right to call their own witnesses. Simultaneously eliminate all plea bargaining so that every felony indictment results in a jury trial.
Restore the exclusive right of Congress to declare war, and declare any deployment of American troops 'war,' even if it's supposedly against abstractions like "drugs' or 'terror.' The only drug-related combat we need is a few years of intense forensic auditing of drug companies and punitive-damage awards to everyone they've overcharged. Make war profiteering and outsourcing of jobs federal crimes punishable by ten years of community service clearing litter from poor neighborhoods and seizure of corporate assets. Rescind the elements of the legal code that allow corporations to be considered 'persons.'
Make recreational drugs safer and available over the counter at pharmacies and liquor stores."

Matter

Here's a nice image I took from http://www.meta-synthesis.com/webbook/31_matter/matter.html:



I hope they don't mind if I reproduce it. I think it's cool.

That kind of matter of course is not the same matter as in the question "Does it matter?" which Self Help Radio attempted to answer last night. Do you want to know what the answer was? No? Not even a little? Oh. Well, if you change your mind, you can find out whether or not Self Help Radio thinks it matters by listening to last night's show at selfhelpradio.net. If I didn't answer the question, there's a few songs that did.

Something About Menus

Do you know people who collect menus? I know one. One people who collects menus.

Why does this people collect menus? Wouldn't it be lonesome & hungry to sit in one's house, say, in Minnesota, while looking at a menu from, say, a lovely vegan restaurant in Brooklyn? Even if they delivered, it might be simpler to simply make a simple sandwich. Or a complex one. Though it's not as as tasty as the one that's on the menu. & what if the kid's on a bicycle? He could die in Cleveland!

Do you know people who can't decide what to order from most menus? I know several people like that. It makes eating out with them sometimes trying.

But I completely understand. If it's a great restaurant, like, say, a lovely vegan restaurant in Brooklyn, which you, living in, say, Minnesota, may not visit again for many months if not years, & who's to say it will still be there when you get back, you want to order the best food off the menu possible. What horrible regret faces you if you were to order the fourth- or fifth-best entree off the menu! Perhaps you should eat with people who will share with you.

Do you know of any radio show which has its own menu? I suppose that radio show would be more like a jukebox than a radio show. Is that what satellite radio is like? In any event, Self Help Radio has no menu. But it will be serving up its regular midnight snack tonight at midnight (that's why it's a midnight snack) on 88.1 fm WMUL in Huntington, & then as leftovers the next day at selfhelpradio.net. Bon appetit!

Whither Does It Matter?

I think I pointed out that this is only the third Self Help Radio that explicitly asks a question. (Other shows, of course, ask implicit questions, the most common of which is, "Why do they let this guy do a radio show?") I can't imagine why I haven't done more questions. Or maybe just formulated my themes more like questions, for example, "Cheese?"

The answer to which would of course be "Yes please!"

I do fear that Self Help Radio may get a bit too philosophical this week. I mean, "Does it matter?" Isn't that the sort of thing that short, bearded men in turtlenecks write big books about that are only read by their students? The truth is, I don't really know what I'm going to talk about. Y'see, one gets the idea for a show for whatever reason (a bolt from the blue, a telegram from one's mom, the desire to play a particular song on the radio & so constructing an entire show around it, etc.) & then one figures out what one is going to say in-between the songs. At least I suppose that's how it's done. I am like that dude from "Memento" - no, not buff, blonde & tattooed - I forget each radio show after I've done it. I'm surprised I haven't done this theme before. Or have I?

My one request is for the bands that I like to write more songs about cold noodles with sesame sauce. I would love to do any entire show about that. How delicious would that be? VERY DELICIOUS!

Also, does anyone else besides me think the word "makeshift" sounds naughty?

Preface To Does It Matter?: Well, Does It? Does It Really Matter?

I had planned to write something snarky for this post like "No. No, it doesn't."

But the new record by The Secret History came out this week, & I can't stop listening to it.

So sometimes, you know, everything seems like it matters.

YOUR Secret Name! LEARN It Now!

Did you know you had a Secret Name?!? You DO! Shhhhh! It's SECRET!

How do you find out your Secret Name? You CAN'T! It's a SECRET! You can't just go around telling people a Secret! It stops being a Secret then. Then it becomes Common Knowledge! Yes, even if only TWO PEOPLE know it. There's no in-between!

Do you know who knows your SECRET NAME? Somebody does! If no one knew, it would not be a Secret! It would be UNKNOWN! Nobody knows that which is UNKNOWN! Once someone knows the Unknown, it become the KNOWN.

Right now your Secret Name is KNOWN but it's UNKNOWN to you. It's a SECRET! Furthermore, if the one person who KNOWS your Secret Name told you, then it would no longer be a SECRET. The two of you would know it, & it would therefore become Common Knowledge! OH NO! What happens then? Then YOU would have to KILL the person who told you your Secret Name!

But that's MURDER! It's absolutely NECESSARY if you want to keep your Secret Name a SECRET! But surely there's ANOTHER WAY!

THERE IS!

MAKE UP your own Secret Name! Your own made-up Secret Name automatically TRUMPS any Secret Name you might have out there! Now you don't have to MURDER anyone! Unless you tell them your SECRET NAME!

Don't do that.

I Lost Consciousness For A Bit There

& when I awoke, there was an entire radio show finished. Which is funny. I've never blacked out during a radio show before.

You can explore with me what happened during those missing ninety minutes at selfhelpradio.net. It's a little weird - while I was unconscious, I did a radio show about unconsciousness.

I guess I'm glad I wasn't shot. I would've bled out trying to play songs about getting shot!

818 CE!

Okay, virtually nothing happened in 818 CE. (I do use the secular "CE" for "common era," rather than the front-loaded Christian nomenclature "AD," which stands for "Anno Domini," which is Latin for "In the year of the Lord," a reference to Jesus/God, not to Zeus, in which case I'd probably use it.)

Here's all it says on the Wikipedia page about 818: "Bishop Theodulf of Orléans is deposed & imprisoned, after becoming involved in a conspiracy of King Bernard of Italy against Louis the Pious." It was four years after the death of Charlemagne, so the confusion at the end of his reign was just beginning. The Crusades were nearly three centuries away.

Here's a map of the "Eastern Hemisphere" at the beginning of the 9th century. Here's a map of the same part of the world at the end of the 9th century. So a lot of shit would happen in the 9th century. Just not in 818 CE.

Here's a list of stuff that happened in the 9th century.

How about them Arctic Marine Mammal Hunters? Don't you think that that would be an awesome name for a band? How long do you think they'd be hollered at by people at PETA?

Hey! Fans of the Western Hemisphere! There weren't any kingdoms like in Asia or Europe, by the Maya & the Aztec were getting the party started right, & in North America there were the Mound Builders, still going strong.

Sorry if you were expecting more exciting news about 818 CE. Might you be excited that there's a new Self Help Radio tonight at midnight on 88.1 WMUL in Huntington? Or that it will be archived tomorrow at selfhelpradio.net? No?

You're hard to please.

Whither Unconsciousness?

What's the difference between the unconscious & the subconscious? That's simple. The unconscious is a theoretical (from Freudian "psychology") state wherein things which you've repressed (like childhood trauma, or wanting to have sex with your parents) are hidden. The subconscious is the state just below your conscious state, where things you know are stored & to which you have relatively easy access. Like, say, the address of a friend in another state to whom you've written a lot. You have to recall it when you're writing out the envelope - it's not always in the forefront of your mind.

"Unconscious" of course also means the state of not being conscious, & that's how Self Help Radio will use it this week, because we're not Freudians. The things that Freud said which could be experimented for their scientific validity were long ago proven untrue, & the things he said which couldn't be falsified are not scientific any way. Not that that bothers Freudians, of course. They like the ideas & will run with them, which is a very human thing to do. But I & everyone at Self Help Radio (which is basically only me) like science better.

This show, haters, is not my answer to critics who have called me a "blackout drunk." First of all, I have no critics, since that would require listeners, which I'm also pretty sure I don't have. Secondly, the only person who would even know about me being a "blackout drunk" is Drunk Gary, who I turn into when I drink. I don't remember anything Drunk Gary does & vice-versa, although he's begun leaving me nearly indecipherable notes on the computer before he goes to bed, like this one, which says, "yr kriks say yr a blakout drnk." But, as you can plainly see, what he writes makes absolutely no sense.

Preface To Unconsciousness: Are You All Right?

On a Princeton University page dealing with alcohol-related issues (vis a vis students & their drinking habits), they have this pearl of wisdom: "Do not assume an unconscious person is sleeping. The individual may be suffering from alcohol poisoning." Or worse!

I was going to try to dig through the internets to find that possibly anecdotal (or do I mean apocryphal?) study wherein psychologists tracked the amount of time it took city folk to respond to someone unconscious in the street as opposed to country folk. I know I have passed unconscious people, but usually they look like they're asleep (although it might be alcohol-induced) & they also look like they basically live on the streets. Still, I always feel bad.

I have never seen someone go from consciousness to unconsciousness on the streets. I think that would make me poop my pants. I have stepped in-between two people, in both fights & some dude hassling a chick, to prevent an event that might have ended up with one or both of them unconscious. Not because I am brave, as I am a coward, but because I hope my considerable bulk will seem scary to a person who's thinking of making another person unconscious.

What I do do is faint. I faint quite a bit. Not recently, but I think I've fainted enough to label myself a fainter. It's true! & most every time I've fainted, someone's helped me. But perhaps that's because I tend to faint around friends or classmates. & never, you know, on the street.

If Only We Spoke The Truth...

A recently funny thing reminded me of a funny thing from many moons ago. This is apparently new(ish), & I found on Mark Evanier's blog:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nFicqklGuB0

Which reminded him - & me - of a film called "Truth In Advertising," the full version of which I'd never seen. It's here:

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-1417085460030712897#

Please enjoy. One day I may even learn how to embed video. Not today!

Self Help Radio O'Clock

I am very lazy today & am just going to repeat here what I wrote on the Facebook Self Help Radio page. You should become a fan!

There are those who think that Self Help Radio doesn't tackle the tough & challenging issues of our day. They imagine the show is a frivolous, navel-gazing enterprise centered almost entirely around the quirks, idiosyncrasies, mental maladies & delusions of its host. Those people are entirely correct. However, occasionally Self Help Radio switches gears, puts on a shirt without holes in it, & looks difficult questions straight in the eye. So it happened this week, when Self Help Radio asked the question: What o'clock is it?

For though it was midnight in Huntington, it was not & could not be the same o'clock everywhere in the world. Who is to blame for this? What vast quasi-legal extra-governmental maneuvers made such a counter-intuitive world-view a reality? Self Help Radio decided to find out. Unfortunately, it didn't, but a radio show happened any way. Oh well.

The playlist is below. The show is at http://www.selfhelpradio.net/ - or selfhelpradio.net o'clock for those of you with digital time pieces. There is also another episode of Sugar Substitute in the same place, & I'm not sure, but I might have talked about foot sweat. It was late.

As always, thanks for listening. You're swell!

What O'Clock Is Self Help Radio Tonight?

It depends on where you are. For example, it will be on the air in Huntington when it is 5am in Frankfurt, but also when it is 6pm in Honolulu. But if you are in either of those places - or, really, anywhere but Huntington - it doesn't matter, because it airs live in Huntington on 88.1 fm WMUL & nowhere else. Nope! No streaming yet. But one day...

But of course I'll put the show soon after it airs on selfhelpradio.net, so it can air any time you want it to. It's just going to air originally at midnight tonight, so if you need to hear it as it happens, & not on some recording, then you need to get your ass to West Virginia toot sweet.

You have like thirteen hours. I'll be here when you get here. You crazy fool you.

Whither What O'Clock Is It?

Not terribly fun fact! In its infancy, Self Help Radio did a show about clocks! (On October 22, 2003!)

Corollary fun fact that is as equal in its lack of fun as the previous fun fact! This show will not be like that show at all!

Also not terribly fun fact! In the history of Self Help Radio (seven & a half years!) there has only been one (1) previous theme that's been a question! ("Are You Sure?" November 18, 2009!)

Darned uninteresting fun fact! In two (2) weeks, Self Help Radio will present another theme that is a question! ("Does It Matter?" March 29, 2010!)

These aren't fun facts! Why do you call them fun facts! They're not of interest to anyone but the host of Self Help Radio!

Well, you don't have to be so mean about it.

Preface To What O'Clock Is It?: Rhetorical Radio Shows & Their Inherent Difficulties

The radio show asks a question. Do you answer it? Or do you look a fool if & when you try?

Take the young man, Eugene Vapor, who did not understand that some questions were not meant to be answered, but were asked, as it were, to make a statement or gain some sort of effect. (It should be known that young Mr. Vapor also had a genetic resistance to sarcasm, one side effect of which was that Mr. Vapor was utterly convinced of everyone's sincerity.) Mr. Vapor often spent his days writing long letters (this was in the twentieth century) to questions he believed he was being asked, questions he felt needed prompt replies. Mr. Vapor of course died from an infection he received from an unprotected mailbox he happened across in an unpleasant part of town.

But should we condescend to (some might have said accommodate) the Mr. Vapors of this world? The answer is, if & only if they have a lot of money. Then it is, as expatriates in the Czech Republic say, de rigeur. Yet poll after poll taken amongst animals in the neighborhood reveal that people like Mr. Vapor do not listen to shows like Self Help Radio, which insists to ask & answer its own questions like some kind of pusillanimous politician afraid to take questions from Boy's Life & Sugar Tits magazines. But judging a radio show like Self Help Radio is easy; listening to it is the difficulty.

Noted rhetor & amateur garbage sculptor Semaphor Livid was recently asked as if he didn't already know why some radio shows need to ask questions & others felt comfortable simply supplying answers. A long, mostly riveting response about a late 70's Pink Floyd concert he missed & the botched back-alley tattoo removal that ensued entertained the paid studio audience even as the FBI surrounded the building. The crew who refused to film the event, complaining about the lack of proper lighting & copyrights, later informed wary passers-by that, yes, questions were often asked, but no, answers were not forthcoming. But was this betrayal?

In the previous selection (see previous selection), half a dozen abrupt landlords met with tenants & nearby hobos to inform them of new rights per pending legislation a continent away in California. Surprisingly, a modest fire was built right there in the auditorium & someone with the obligatory electric guitar (along with a multi-instrumentalist who had only brought her flute) sang long, sad songs about this or that flight of fancy in this or that youth. Then - & only then, because versions differ & memories are faulty but the most trustworthy report was from a guy who assures everyone he was totally there because he still has a burn mark from the electric guitar on his hypothalamus - the cry went up, & a hush fell upon the city, & while some have called it a religious experience, it was anything but, as prescription drugs were in the water supply.

Were was Self Help Radio in all this? It was, of course, huddled in its garage apartment, peering through spectacles smudged with filthy, music-listening hands. Doing what? you may ask. Oh, you know: asking questions it doesn't expect you to answer.

Abdication!

I am done talking about kings, monarchy, kingdoms, realms, crowns, all that. Just sick of it. Not once - not once - during this process have I been offered the rule of a country. Or a small village, even. How much must one radio show person hint? Seriously.

That's okay, though, I can still run for elected office if I so choose. Please look from my announcement whenever my theme is "democracy." Or maybe "corruption."

If you aren't sick of kings, or if you missed last night's show, it's available online at selfhelpradio.net for listening. Please do. & then vote for me for king!

King For A Day!

Apparently there used to be this horrible television show called Queen For A Day which is considered a godmother of television's modern "reality" craze. It began on radio. Tonight on the radio I shall be King For A Day!

Not really. It's only ninety minutes. & I won't be king. I'll be playing songs about kings, real & imagined, & also things that are titled "king" because of their importance. So there's no similarity between the old show & my new show. You can see one of the few extant episodes (they were usually destroyed like most of the television shows of the day) of "Queen For A Day" here. I warn you. It's awful.

You can listen to tonight's Self Help Radio live on 88.1 fm WMUL in Huntington & I'll archive it tomorrow on selfhelpradio.net. I can't predict how awful it will be. You'll have to listen to hear!

Whither King Fill-In-The-Blank?

People sometimes think I get too weird about my themes. They say to me, do like the zombie that used to be Bob Dylan does: make millions of dollars writing great folks songs & then coast for more than half your life on your reputation. Wait. I mean, do a radio show with simple themes. Like "cars" or "baseball" or "days of the week that end in 'day'."

I do want to be more like the zombie that used to be Bob Dylan, especially with the money & the commercials with Victoria's Secret models & the occasionally flirtation with evangelical Christianity. But for some reason when my brain tells me to come up with a theme for a show, the chemicals involved get sidetracked, possibly by memories of seeing girls in their underwear, & suddenly bam! There's a theme that seems unnecessarily complicated.

For example, the zombie that used to be Bob Dylan would do a show about "kings." That would be simply enough & no one would scratch their head. His assistants would eagerly find songs for him that he would nod at as if he approved & then someone would write his script & his show would go off without a hitch. But not me. I am nothing like the zombie that used to be Bob Dylan. I am, some might say, not even a fraction of the rotting ego that that zombie that used to be Bob Dylan has. Because instead of doing a show about kings, or monarchy, or the notion of the divine right to rule, what do I do?

"King Fill-In-The-Blank." What?

See, this is the grand idea my foolish brain had: "Anyone can do a show about kings," my brain told me, "even the unpaid interns who gather music for the zombie who used to be Bob Dylan's show. But what if you saddle yourself with arbitrary restrictions in the theme? Won't that be something you might call fun but no one else would?" & because I am drinking at the time, I say, "Sure!"

Wait. What restrictions? Simple: the songs can be about kings, but they have to be about a specific king. King _____ . So you can't play a nice song like Tyrannosaurus Rex's "King Of The Rumbling Spires" but you can play a song called "King James." See?

Wait, wait. Does it have to be a real king? No. It just has to say King & some noun. Won't that be fun?

Oh, yes. Fun.

Preface To King Fill-In-The-Blank: Someone Get Me Away From This Piano

Did you know that in a clavichord the strings are struck by tangents, whereas in a harpsichord they are plucked by quills? I think I did but it was of no consequence so I forgot I knew.

Here's something that might blow your mind: the first piano was built around three hundred years ago. Isn't that incredible? The piano is not a terribly old instrument at all. Not like the flute, versions of which have been found that are forty thousand years old. But then you have to build a piano, & you can carve a flute out of a bone. (They've found those.)

Of course younger still are "keyboards," which are basically synthesizers, which are just a little older than I am. What, do you think, is the youngest musical instrument? & no, you can't count Autotune. Which is younger than most (but not all) of the musicians who use it, but not even out of its teens.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, pianos. I think I admired pianos for a long time before I appreciated them. It might have something to do with Elton John. Not his music so much as the album "Don't Shoot Me, I'm Only The Piano Player." I must've seen that album when I was a kid & the title stuck with me. The piano player is immune from the saloon shoot-out! That seemed cool.

Was I afraid of being shot in a saloon? Who knows? I was just a kid, after all.

We're Not Out Of The Woods Yet!

We're not even in the woods! We're on the path that leads up to the woods! & oh no! That was our last exclamation mark. All we have are a bunch of periods, commas, & semicolons. We need to be extra careful as well - we don't have that many ampersands left either. If someone were to say, "We need to watch out for bears & tigers & hunters & lions & antelope and buffalos and giant cakes of brie, " well, there you go. We used all the ampersands up.

Now we have some of these: ¡¡¡ There are a lot of those, but they're useless without exclamation points, and also without words in Spanish. Or Portuguese maybe? Do they use both the ¡ and the ¿ in Portuguese? Oh, yeah. We got plenty of question marks. The trouble is, people like to answer questions. So it's confusing if I use too many question marks. You know? If we write sentences like this with a question mark, it's weird? You see? We won't do that then? After that one, at least.

By the way, if you've read this this far, you may be wondering why we refer to ourselves as "we" at this moment and not use the first person singlular pronoun. Can you imagine, we're out of those too. (Rats, we should've used a question mark there - Can you imagine? We're out of those too.) So even though it sounds like we're (at best) more than one person writing this or (at worst) we think we're royalty, we can't use the first person singular pronoun because we haven't got any.

Hey. We have an idea. Why not use the upside down exclamation point as the first person singular pronoun? Or would that seem pretentious? ¡ don't think so. ¡ just have to forgo capitalization. which is fine. ¡ was running out of capital letters anyway. but not question marks? no, ¡ have plenty of question marks. Also semicolons; but ¡ already said that.

ah, now ¡ think we're in the woods.

Boy! What A Long Night!

Wanna know what I did last night? It was on the WMUL web site yesterday:

Pretty exciting, eh? Also, pretty exhausting. I'm beat.

I did three hours continuing the indiepop a to z madness I started many moons ago. But I did finish the e's! Hooray for me! Hooray for indiepop!

Indiepop doesn't even notice what I'm doing.

Go! Listen! Now! At selfhelpradio.net!

I'll be here if you need zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

Whither Indiepop A To Z # 25?

Hey! Aren't you supposed to be sick in bed?

Well, I am sick at my computer. It's much the same as if I were in bed, only less comfy.

But if you're still sick tomorrow you won't be able to do Self Help Radio!

Ha ha, no worries there. I'll do it even if I'm deathly ill.

You just want to infect the kids at WMUL!

Infect them? With what?

With your cold!

Oh, I thought you were thinking of something else?

What?

The plague.

What plague?!?

Exactly.

So you'll do the show whether you're well or not?

I'll be fine to do the show tomorrow.

It's the next installment in your indiepop a to z series?

It is.

Why do you keep doing them?

I started it, I might as well try to finish it.

This would be number 24, yes?

No.

No?

No.

But the last time you did one of these "whither indiepop a to z" posts, it was called Whither Indiepop A To Z # 23!

It was. But I also did a Sugar Substitute after that & continued the indiepop a to z. So you can listen to either Indiepop A To Z # 23 or Indiepop A To Z # 24 if you want, but the new one will be 25.

You think you're so smart.

If I was this smart, would I be talking to myself like this?

I suppose not.

Preface To Indiepop A To Z # 25: I Have A Cold

Am sick. Won't be able to radio show tonight. Will get better so can do Self Help Radio on Monday. Must go drain sinuses now. Excuse me.

Back In The Quiet

Yes, the Self Help Radio returned safely two days ago to the wilds of West Virginia after a brief sojourn in the New York City area, where it took in a Broadway show & a Daily Show, but mainly ate lots of delicious vegan food in Manhattan & Brooklyn. Oh god can that radio show eat! Even in cold rain!

It also looks like the Self Help Radio escaped a blizzard in the Large Apple... Though the plane from Cincinnati was daringly de-iced & flew the half hour to Huntington through some snowy resistance, there's no snow on the ground here but maybe some flakes floating in the sky.

Are you uncomfortable that the host of Self Help Radio refers to himself as the show? That's kinda weird, right? Is it a desire to anthropomorphize or some weird clingy ego that makes him identify entirely with the show? & what about the whole "writing about himself in the third person" thing? That's weird, right? Who else would be writing this if not him? It's not like he has a staff!

In any event, the Self Help Radio will return to its normal slot on Monday night, the first evening of March. In addition, on the night of the next-to-the-last-day of February, the host of Self Help Radio will be playing three hours of rock & roll on a show he's calling "Saturday Night Rock & Roll" because, frankly, after naming shows like "Self Help Radio" & "Sugar Substitute" & "Dickenbock Electronics," he's really all out of idears.

Also, he has the sniffles. That's not going to sound very good on the radio, is it?

By the way, though this blog post has a lot of questions, & there's a comments function so one could easily attempt to answer them, please don't feel obliged. They're rhetorical & the answers have already come to the Self Help Radio & it's feeling awful about everything.

After vacation, everything returns to normal.

Remember! Today!

If you are like me & never remember when Self Help Radio is on, you should perhaps get (like I did) its time tattoo on the cuticle of your right hand ring finger. Which is painful. Especially since the time slot has changed a lot in the last few months. Also, is it all right if your cuticle has turned a kind of moss green? I need to see a doctor.

Anyway, my rotting finger is telling me that the Self Help Radio is on tonight at midnight, but how can that be? I am in another city in another state entirely. (Just to clarify, though, the other city I am in is also in the other state that I am in, so I am not violating the laws of space & time like Albert Einstein used to do.) I can't get back to do the Self Help Radio tonight! I plan to be selling shoes in Rockefeller Center!

Oh, but I have another method of reminding me of important dates & times. Y'see, I have a laptop computer, & when you close the computer, there's all this space where you can carve notes to yourself. & I see that a youngster named Brian will be doing the Self Help Radio tonight in its normal place (let me check my cuticle) ah! Mondays at midnight on 88.1 fm WMUL in Huntington. Whew! Do you know how fast I'd have to run to get there by midnight? Me either. But I can't run that fast. Not in these heels.

Please listen & I'll return next week. Meanwhile, I have to see if I can sneak into this bed & breakfast to have a shower.

Holy Wow! 800 Blog Posts!

It's true, this is the 800th entry for the Self Help Radio blog. That's more than the number of Self Help Radio shows I've done! & I started this blog after I had been doing the show for several years as well.

My first post was September 12, 2006. I don't know why I started it then - or really what I was going to do with it. I suck at promoting this show. Some might also say I suck at doing the show, but even if it's true, I can't admit that to myself. It's like, I know this dude who does Christian radio & it's all he has, & sometimes he wants to argue with me about my lack of belief, & I know three things about why that's a bad idea: 1) Neither of us can be convinced the other is wrong, or can convince the other of his correctness; 2) It ends up making one or the other or both of us kinda angry & frustrated because, you know, at some level saying what someone "believes" is not right is a little insulting; & 3) Even if I allow myself the egotistic fluffery to imagine I could get him to realize his highly-cherished beliefs are simply sad little lies he tells to himself, it would take away the one thing that both defines him & gives his life a semblance of meaning, & it's not Christianity - it's his radio show. He has so much Christian music, it would be one giant monument to his wasted years if he suddenly found himself bereft of faith. Though I guess there's always eBay.

My point, of course, is that it seems pretty evident that I'm not terribly good at this radio show stuff but what else would I do?

Let me tell you something about this guy: A few years ago, I had to play a character in a dumb video play which was improvised so that faculty at the University of Texas could learn how to edit video for pedagogical purposes. I "played" a groundskeeper at the University (they call the department "Physical Plant") who was a little slow, & they were interviewing my character about something miraculous that had happened, & I delivered a funny line when I was asked, "Do you believe in the supernatural?" I said, "No ma'am, I don't believe in nothin' supernatural. I believe in Jeezus!"

About four weeks ago, the Christian radio guy was trying to talk to me about his faith & I told him I wasn't a Christian. He was puzzled by this (in West Virginia, what else could you be?) so I said, "I don't believe in anything supernatural." "Oh, me neither," he said, "I just believe in God."

Which reminds me of that hilarious Van Morrison line in the song "In The Garden," where he sings, with painful earnestness,

No guru, no method, no teacher,

Just you & I & nature,

& the Father & the Son & the Holy Ghost

In the Garden

But I guess it's nice that Van Morrison doesn't think the Christian god is a guru or teacher, & that none of the things he asks you to do are a method. (I still like the song.)

Where was I? I'm a little sleep deprived & I need to get shit done before I leave for New York tomorrow. There won't be a Self Help Radio this week, or at least not one hosted by me. A nice kid named Brian will host it if you're listening. But I was talking about anniversaries.

Back in September, I calculated when the 100 post anniversaries were. I reproduce part of that here, & add new data:

The 100th post happened on March 7, 2007.
The 200th post happened on August 13, 2007. (158 days later.)
The 300th post happened on January 9, 2008. (149 days after the 200th post.)
The 400th post happened on May 26, 2008. (138 days after the 300th post.) (Also, at this point, Self Help Radio had become a show without a radio station.)
The 500th post happened on October 14, 2008. (141 days after the 400th post.)
The 600th post happened on March 25, 2009. (162 days after the 500th post.)
The 700th post happened on September 23, 2009. (186 days after the 600th post, & my longest interval ever.)
The 800th post has happened now on February 19, 2010. It's been 149 days since then, & that's pretty close to average. Whew! Glad to be back!

I also once tried to give away something for this anniversary, but not enough people read this blog to actually care to get something special from me. Even dear old Mom, who these days just asks for money.

I may check in during the week but please miss me while I'm gone please. I'll be back the week after with Self Help Radio & Sugar Substitute. Maybe you'll listen to some old shows while I'm away? Pretty please?

All right. 800 down. Let's get hammered.

Late Reminder Remains Unlit

Ack! I forgot to remind you that this week's Self Help Radio, which was all about mud, & which is as much fun as playing in the mud, & which unfortunately will require you to bathe afterwards, is now available where it always is at selfhelpradio.net. You don't have to enjoy mud to enjoy the show, you know.

Did you know that it snowed in every state in the United States except Hawaii last week?

Also, this week's episode of Dickenbock Electronics is available for listening to too at the Self Help Radio website. If you're into that sort of thing. I like it. That's why I do it.

Did you know physicists are totally fucking with what we know about the universe these days? No, I didn't understand it easier.

Oh, & I did a show on Saturday which for some reason I'm calling "Saturday Night Rock & Roll" which may or may not be a regular thing & it's on the website as well. I know, you can barely stand the sight of me & here's six hours of radio. Just feel lucky it's not more!

Here's Mud In Your Eye!

That's an odd toast, isn't it? I'll mention it on the Self Help Radio show tonight, which is happening at midnight on 88.1 WMUL FM here in Huntington (archived later on the previously linked web site) (oh, I linked it again), but did you know that no one's sure of the phrase's origin, even though it's barely ninety years old? It's true!

The Word Detective hasn't tackled it, alas, so I looked around sites like The Phrase Finder & I found four possible origins.

The most unlikely (in my mind) is the one you'll find in this sermon, which suggests it's connected to the Gospel of John, where literal "mud in the eye" is used to heal. "When he had thus spoken, he spat on the ground, & made clay of the spittle, & he anointed the eyes of the blind man with the clay, & said unto him, Go, wash in the pool of Siloam. He went his way therefore, & washed, & came seeing" (John 9:6-7, King James Version - modern versions use "mud" instead of "clay"). I doubt this because drinkers, even a century ago, are probably not big Bible readers. But of course I'm not an etymologist, so what the hell do I know?

One person suggested that it comes from horse-racing, where the winning horse will kick mud into the losers behind it. As well, someone posited that it had to do with farmers raising their glasses to the "mud" to wish for fertility in the soil in the planting seasons.

A convoluted origin is that it relates to trench warfare in World War I, which, when a shell landed near you & all you got was mud in your eye, was a lucky thing indeed.

The one I like the best is the one that seems simplest: it may have something to do with the dregs or debris at the bottom of a wine glass - being a whiskey drinker, I wouldn't have thought of that - & if you drink it all down, as you do with a toast, you may get some of the "mud" in your eye.

It doesn't have to mean anything of course. In our time, people will say "here's shit in your eye," which sounds awful.

What won't sound awful is Self Help Radio tonight (well, I can't actually promise that...). Please listen!

Whither Mud?

Ah've been a big ol' fan a mud pert near mah entire life. Hell, ya could say Ah was born on mud. Mud's all what surrounded the broke-down shack where mah momma gave a-birth ta me an my seventeen siblins, all by her lonesome ceptin for the crazy Gypsy midwife what lived deep in the swamp. Mud is what Ah got ta play in for the first eight long years of mah life, an mud is what we buried half mah brothers an sisters in when they couldn't stand ta live round the mud no more. Mud is all Ah got when mah momma died givin birth ta my last brother and daddy took ta drinkin hisself to death. Mud is what Ah worked on steada goin to school for an education an mud is where Ah brought the only woman what ever loved me home ta when the preacher said "Now git."

Of course, none of that is true, & furthermore I am not sure that's even a real accent. It certainly sounds like someone trying to be vaguely Faulknerian while also trying to remember how the Beverly Hillbillies sounded. (Busted!)

I hate mud. I hated it when I was a kid. Among the slightly neurotic dislikes I have is getting stuff like mud caked on my hands. I don't care if it's on my knees or in my hair, but man it's annoying when it's on my hands. Same thing with oils, or lotions, or anything that slightly caky or greasy that in some way affects (I think) my hands' ability to touch things. I'm convinced it's the sensitivity of my hands that makes mud & stuff on them something weird.

One truth supersedes all in this matter: pigs love mud & I love pigs & therefore mud is a good thing.

Preface To Mud: I'll Be On The Radio Tonight!

It's true, I noticed that there wasn't a deejay schedule for Saturday nights from midnight to three am so I asked the Station Manager if he wouldn't mind if I just came on the radio & played some music & I thought "Since the guy who's on from nine to midnight plays nothing but hiphop I'll go ahead & play rock & roll." So it'll be Saturday Night Rock & Roll. Or Sunday Morning Too Damn Loud. Or Weekend Night Who's Making All That Racket. Something like that.

If you're around in Huntington, it's on the fm dial at 88.1 - the call letters are WMUL. I may or may not put the show up at selfhelpradio.net when I'm done, though I'll put up the playlist, 'cause I always do that.

Will I continue doing it after this week? I'd like to, but I'll be out of town next weekend (more about that later) so we'll have to wait & see. Till I decide - or, more likely, a decision is made for me - enjoy the show tonight. If you can.

Into A World Of Snow!

Didya see how much snow dry, arid Dallas got this week? That's awesome! Over twelve inches! I can't find stats online for the Huntington area, but I'm sure we've had more than twelve inches this winter... Just not all at the same time.

Also, the snow in Dallas will probably melt quickly. Here it stays - & hardens - & becomes evil snow which goes by the name "black ice" - & brother I hear that's a killer.

I don't think that's what I wanted to talk about - it's actually kind of important I remember this date.* I have several siblings, most of whom have reproduced, & therefore I am possibly called "uncle" by (let me count) at least eight people (or, at the very least, there are at least eight people to whom I would respond if I were called "uncle"). However, today, through no action of any member of my blood-related family, I became an uncle again. This may sound ridiculous, but unlike other relations by marriage, which are usually designated by the suffixed phrase "in law" (ie, "brother-in-law," "mother-in-law"), you're not called an "uncle-in-law," you're just an uncle. I think I'd prefer being an uncle-in-law just so the kid knows we're not related. & chances are, she'll be pretty amazing, so actually "uncle-in-law" will enable her to distance herself from me when I'm a crazy old coot & she's a world famous something-or-other. "Ignore him," she'll tell her handlers, "he's just my uncle-in-law."

It's actually pretty easy to remember - this is both Abraham Lincoln's & Charles Darwin's birthday. But I have a feeling this little girl won't be intimidated by such luminaries - she'll be fine. Even if the planet's dying. But don't tell her parents that!

Welcome to the world, little Zizu. If I misspelled your name, & you're googling this years later, let me just say that your Ciocia Magda told me that's how it's spelled & you already know she can't spell to save her life - or her career. Happy birthday from your new uncle-in-law!

*At least until this person gets a Facebook account that will remind me it's her birthday.

G-I-R-L-F-R-E-N

One day remind me to tell you about the time I interviewed Jonathan Richman on the radio. He was a total douche to me. I was a little surprised - most every musician - especially the indie type - I had met up until that time was actually quite nice. I think he thought it was fun to be difficult. It didn't affect how much I loved his music - well, maybe the music I heard after the interview, since I was less prone to love it uncritically - but there's really nothing he could do to diminish my love for the first Modern Lovers record & some of that stuff up to & including the 80s. But I have never gone to see him live since then, & he tours a lot.

What else? Oh yeah, last night's Self Help Radio which was about girlfriends went fine. I didn't get into trouble at all with my wife. Whew! As per usual, it's over at selfhelpradio.net for your listening & downloading & getting in trouble with your spouse pleasure.

Here's some extra insight: Matt Groenig's "Life In Hell" cartoon about girlfriends. Wow! It's true nearly thirty years later!

Huzzah! My Second Monday Night Show!

- I think last week's show went all right, didn't you?
- Guess so.
- What, didn't you listen?
- It's on kinda late.
- You were going to stay up late to watch Craig Ferguson anyway.
- I can record that.
- I record my show too! It's up at selfhelpradio.net!
- Yeah, but listening to it after it's already been on, it's like, the moment's lost.
- Wait, what about Craig Ferguson? You tape that show!
- Sure, but it's not live. It's already on tape.
- Hold on. You'd listen to recordings of my shows if they were pre-taped but not if they're recorded live?
- Of course. It's meant to be heard live.
- Do you feel that way about live albums?
- I never thought about it.
- I think you're talking through your ass.
- Hey! No need to get grumpy. I'll listen to your stupid show.
- You will?
- I'll listen to it live, sure.
- That's awesome! Thanks!
- When is it on again?
- Tonight at midnight on 88.1 fm WMUL Huntington.
- All right then.
- I'll record it anyway, just in case.
- Whatever.

Whither Girlfriends On Valentine's Day 2010?

First of all, I am perfectly aware that Valentine's Day is a week away. I have to do the show before Valentine's Day, you know? Otherwise it's just weird. "Yesterday was Valentine's Day & here's the show I would've done..." That would be moronic. Although I can totally see myself doing it. In fact, I may start doing Halloween shows in late November.

Where was I? Oh yeah. See, Valentine's Day is a full six days (or, really, five days & twenty-one hours, but I rounded up) from when the show airs, so while it might seem early, it seriously could only be earlier by maybe a few hours. Otherwise it'd be an entire week away & then I'd just have the show on Valentine's Day. Or would I? Because maybe it'd be midnight on Valentine's Day, & that would be the same as doing it the day after.

Now my head hurts. You want to see the themes I've done in the past for Valentine's Day, just for poops & grins?

VDay 2003: Valentine's Day (generally)
VDay 2004: Love
VDay 2005: Hate
VDay 2006: (cancelled due to burned-down radio station)
VDay 2007: Crushes
VDay 2008: Jealousy
VDay 2009: Boyfriends

"Girlfriends" seemed a natural choice for this year. Who knows what's next?

Don't get ahead of yourself! We've got to survive this Valentine's Day first.

Preface To Valentine's Day 2010: If I Was Your Girlfriend

I'm pretty astonished how short some people are. Like Prince, who wrote the queer tune I won't be playing on this week's show, which I am quoting above. He is five foot two. Which was (some folks say) how tall Napoleon was. & of course there are a lot of similarities between the two, & yes, I am talking about Prince's continuing aggression against Prussians. He won't be happy till he plows through them toward Russia.

Bowie seems shorter than five foot ten, but that's what his official bio says. But official bios can be faked. & I think Bowie has faked his. I don't think he's taller than five six. He's certainly not taller than Bob Dylan, who's about five eight.

All these people I mention are also famously scrawny. Leonard Cohen (whose bio says he's five nine) claimed that, during the writing of "Beautiful Losers," he took so much speed he got down to 85 pounds. Christian Bale, who's about as tall as I am, got down to 121 pounds for The Machinist, & he looked like he simply couldn't lose any more weight. Could Cohen be five nine & get that emaciated? I doubt it.

By the way, the average height of the American male is five eight. The average weight is 189 pounds.

Yes, there will be no Prince on Self Help Radio this week, nor really any time soon. That's what I was going to say because I had to listen to that nonsense song again in case it was better than I remembered. Does anyone know when or if Prince was going to get his adenoids taken care of?

Index

I wanted to get in the habit of writing in this blog five days a week for the new schedule (Self Help Radio was recently moved to Mondays at midnight), which should look something like this:

FRIDAY: Pants are buttoned slowly, for maximum sensual effect.
SATURDAY: Soft music is played as Barry White's ghost nods approvingly in a creepy but sexy way.
SUNDAY: The lights are dimmed & no one's none the wiser.
MONDAY: Slow motion shot of a train entering a tunnel.
TUESDAY: A disapproving look from the landlady as we order out for pizza looking sweaty & disheveled.

Wait. What? That's like some bizarre porn thing with the days of the week attached to it! That's not a schedule at all! However, I have seen that movie, though I confess I've never acted in it.

All right, here's the blog entry schedule:

FRIDAY: Grow worse.
SATURDAY: Die.
SUNDAY: Get buried.
MONDAY: Get born.
TUESDAY: Get christened.

Hold it, hold it. That's just what happens to Solomon Grundy in that poem, only screwed around to "start" on Friday & missing Wednesday & Thursday.

All right. Let's get this right. Here's the schedule:

FRIDAY: In love.
SATURDAY: Wait.
SUNDAY: Comes too late.
MONDAY: Blue.
TUESDAY: Grey.

Ack! Those are the descriptions of the days in the Cure song "Friday I'm In Love"! Which reminds me, one of these days I'm totally going to do a show that has nothing but songs that go through the days of the week.

But that has absolutely nothing to do with how this blog will be organized. Can we get that right now, please?

FRIDAY: Nonsense?
SATURDAY: Preface to this week's coming nonsense.
SUNDAY: Whither this week's coming nonsense?
MONDAY: Listen live to my nonsense!
TUESDAY: Okay, then, listen to my recorded nonsense!

That's about right.

I've Got A New Hat!

That's not true. I got a hat that someone owned before me! I got a nused hat! Or is it a newsed hat? In any event, it's certified pre-owned!

If only it were a fedora. But it's not. It's not a sombrero, either, which wouldn't make sense in West Virginia, especially at their embarrassing "Mexican" restaurants. My god, has no one here ever heard of a jalapeño?

It's luckily not what they call a "gimme" cap. They also call those types of caps "trucker caps" & "feed caps," the latter of which sounds more interesting than "gimme cap." "Feed cap" also sounds like some kind of diet plan, as in "thirty-seven oreos is your feed cap, fatty."

More interesting than my new hat, though, even with the lice, is that this week's episode of Self Help Radio, the theme of which is "twilight," & which has (do I protest too much?) nothing to do with Mormons or vampires or repressed homosexuality or any combination thereof. Babe.

It's over at selfhelpradio.net for your listening glee. Also, this week's episode of Dickenbock Electronics is there as well. Please enjoy.

No, it's not a top hat. Nor a cowboy hat. Keep guessing! I need to shampoo with special medicine now.

Huzzah! My First Monday Night Show!

In case you've not been paying attention, or you were paying attention but no one said anything, or you were paying attention but couldn't give half a solid shit, Self Help Radio was moved from Wednesday mornings at seven-thirty to Monday nights at midnight.

I am excited about it, but there's a nagging voice to my right (my dog Winston) telling me, "Why be so excited? Isn't it a demotion?"

Must everything be promotion or demotion? Isn't there such a thing as a lateral move? Sure there is! There are even articles on the computer with titles like Making A Lateral Career Move: The Pros & Cons. I may not know what a lateral move is, but I can be certain it's neither a demotion nor a promotion so I don't have to question why Self Help Radio was moved & instead go with the flow.

I mean, what could be bad about being on at midnight? Here are two indisputable sets of facts:

At 7:30am, most people weren't awake. At midnight, most people aren't awake.
At 7:30am, the people who are awake are groggy & need coffee. At midnight, the people who are awake are drunk & need coffee.

I could go on, but now I'm thinking I'll need some coffee tonight or maybe I myself won't be listening.

So huzzah! Self Help Radio live in Huntington on 88.1 fm at midnight, archived tomorrow on the line at selfhelpradio.net!

Whither Twilight?

It's no secret that I am controlled by a shadowy world government slash offshore corporation with ties to organized crime & Jihadist insurgents all over the globe & also in Texas. But what remains a secret is the manner by which the themes which are featured on the Self Help Radio get suggested, vetted, chosen & approved. Did three of those last options mean about the same thing? Never mind. Finally, here, on this blog, will this secret be revealed! Of course, if you read about the secret on this blog, you will probably become the target of adorable ninja assassins who will kill anyone, anything, & any person to keep the secret safe. Wait. Did I say "adorable"? I meant "deadly." Sorry, my delete key is petulant.

First, there is nine days of mourning & funeral masses following the end of the last theme. It is interred generally on the fourth or fifth day. No sooner than 15 days after the previous theme & no later than 20 days after its end, all of the shareholders under the age of eighty convene. Currently the Self Help Radio has two shareholders, only one imaginary.

The shareholders will generally hold two ballots a day, one in the morning, one in the afternoon, & the ballots are burned. This is important, as it signals what the next theme might be: the burning of the secret ballots creates black smoke when no decision is reached, & the addition of magic chemicals (pop rocks) creates white smoke when one of the themes garners two-thirds of the votes, & is chosen. Modern shareholder meetings generally last no more than a few days, although the process could take longer if & when alcohol is involved.

Now, many people will have noticed that this process resembles in a lot of ways the manner by which a pope is chosen, especially the drinking. If this is what you have read, then the blog has already been censored & the process by which themes are chosen must remain secret. My apologies, but at least cute, fluffy ninjas will not be coming to kill you. Wait. Did I say "cute, fluffy"? I meant "alcoholic father." Sorry, my psychiatrist is messing with my prescription.

Also, can I make it clear this week's show is not about the popular Mormon Vampire Series "Twilight"? It just happens that the show was scheduled before the rise of that popular Mormon Vampire & Gay Werewolf phenomenon. It most certainly was not a way to get teenagers to listen to the Self Help Radio! We're above all that.

Until we're told we're not. But until then. Yes.