We’ll Start the War From Right Here.

Howdy.  I mulled over so many different titles for this blog.  It was tough, because this is one of those “personal” posts, revolving around the events in my personal life.  Specifically, about the recent decision (not mine) to end the eight-year run of the TNT Morning Show on 98.9 the Bear, Ft. Wayne’s legendary rock station.  I thought of the words used by Rob Roy’s wife: “Whatever cannot be helped must be endured.”  I thought of  T.S. Eliot: “This is the way the world ends.  Not with a bang, but a whimper.”  But those both have such a depressing finality to them.  Instead, I chose something that better reflects my attitude.  The title I settled on was used by Brigadier General Teddy Roosevelt, Jr. (Yes…President Teddy Roosevelt was so bad-ass that his seed was strong enough to kick a hole in the Nazi fortress of Europe) who, upon finding that Allied plans had gone amok during the chaotic D-Day landings decided to tell his troops that, fuck it all…”We’ll start the war from right here.”  And that’s what I have decided to do, in a metaphoric sense.  Things didn’t work out the way I’d planned.  Doesn’t matter.  I have a job.  I have a microphone.  I have a voice.  And goddammit, I’m not going to sit here in the sand with bullets whizzing over my head and cry like a baby.  Just ain’t my style.  Plus, I get to use the word “goddammit” again.  That is such a bonus.

Here’s the thing.  Our COO-types recently made the decision to do away with the classic rock programming on our sister station, 92.3 the Fort.  Instead, that station will now carry a simulcast of news-talk powerhouse WOWO.  As a result, some of their staff was let go.  Others, reassigned within the company.  And the syndicated Bob & Tom show was going to either be left without a station or gobbled up by a competing radio station in this market.  Uh-oh.

So the decision was made.  From my past experiences as a program director, I know it wasn’t an easy one.  At one point, the powers that be thought better of it and shelved the idea of putting Bob & Tom on the Bear.  Then they waffled.Then they re-committed.  At another point, our program director took a stand saying he could not and would not be part of this decision.  Cooler heads talked him “down from the ledge” and he’s still our boss, thankfully.  So they broke the news to myself and my co-host, my partner, my friend, Barry Thickk (may not be his real last name.)  And it was like being hit in the gut.

But there is and was a silver lining.  I was told that I could either take a generous severance package, probably much like the one given to my long-time compatriot and class-act Drew Cage, or stay on and do the custom-created 1p-4p time slot on the Bear.  Let me be absolutely clear about this: this radio station thought enough of me to carve out an on-air shift where one had not existed before.  They could have easily cut their ties with me, said “good game” and shown me the door.  It’s happened before.  It will happen again.  That’s radio, baby.

Now, I’m also not stupid.  I know that this company likes to hedge their bets.  If, by some chance, Bob & Tom don’t “work” on the Bear, the bigwigs want a safety net.  They want me and Barry around, just in case.  For the record, I think B&T will be a huge asset to this radio station.  Yep.  I said it.  Imagine most (let’s say 75%) of their audience following them to the Bear.  Then add, say 50% of the TNT Show audience (it will likely be much more than that.)  On a huge 50,000 watt signal.  And followed by the amazing Jenna, myself, John the Mexican (the most talented jock in the midwest.  No hyperbole.  He makes me laugh.  Hard.) and then wrapping up with the night-time horniness of Barry Thickk (okay, NOT his real last name.) well…that’s the recipe for an unprecidented powerhouse rock station the likes of which hasn’t been heard for decades.

So now the war starts in earnest.  I haven’t done a solo radio show in over eight years.  So now I bang the rust off my blades and put on the gear.  So now I go out for a regular shift.  So now I’m on the checking line.  No matter.  I’m going to throw my weight around, shut down the other team’s scorers, and God willing put the puck in the net a few times myself.

Next summer I will have been doing professional radio for twenty years.  Eight of those years were as co-host of the TNT Morning Show.  Had I not landed the TNT gig in January of 2004, there’s a good chance I would have been out of radio altogether.  It had become tiresome and political.  Too many consultants, too many budget cuts.  Doing morning radio again gave me new life.  I was able to just enjoy the whole awesomeness of it all.  On a bad day, I flipped on a mic and told jokes while listening to rock music.  That, my friends, is a good gig.

But now, with my mornings free for the first time in almost a decade, I intend to branch out.  More writing.  And I mean REAL writing.  Maybe I’ll try working on a stand-up routine.  I know for a FACT that I’ll catch up on my masturbation.  (Making the bald man cry whilst Barry peers over the console divider is not as easy as you’d think.)

So, in closing, I’ll simply say thanks.  Thanks to everyone who listened, everyone who offered support and encouragement, and certainly to my loving wife and family.   As Stan “The Man” Lee would say…Excelsior!

“I Pranked Him to Death!”

Hey, kids!  Lots of news on the ol’ T-Dub front these days.  I’ll blog about it all later this week.  In the meantime, just a couple of fun tricks to try to further the cause of chaos.  Boy, do I love chaos.  Heck, I even love iheartchaos.com!  Anyway, the first of these occurred to me whilst wading through the human refuse that is Chuck E. Cheese’s.  Enjoy responsibly…

 

Please, good sir...throw us a crust...a chicken wing...ANYTHING!! It's been...it's been WEEKS!!

 

Okay, so there’s this ride at the Rat Haus wherein the kid sits in a little car with a fiberglass replica of Chuck.  The car goes forward and back for a few minutes then PRESTO!  A blurry black and white picture of your confused toddler and Chuck pops out, making it look the two are off to get Marcellus’s briefcase back.  (Shoulda brought shotguns.) Well, more often than not, the li’l tyke runs off to jam some more tokens into another game or ride, leaving the picture to sit there in the hopper.  Not like you don’t already have thirty of ’em on your fridge, right?  Shit, kid…mommy and daddy know what you look like already!  What to do with all those discarded images?  Simple!  Scoop ’em up.  Take ’em home.  Enlarge them, print them out, and hang ’em up all over town as “CHILD MISSING” posters.  Boy, mom & dad are gonna be in for a surprise when the local news comes a-callin’!

 

Then again, promotional opportunities GALORE!

 

Perhaps you’re skipping Chuck’s for today.  Good call.  Head on down to the Super China Buffet III.  But make sure you take some pre-printed fortune cookie fortunes.  I like to use phrases like “HaHa!  Stupid round-eye!  That no crab Rangoon!” Or perhaps a venomous “REMEMBER LAOS!!  Die, Yankee!”  Or my personal fave, best as a hand-written note: “I peed in your rice!”  Then simply walk briskly and angrily to the front desk and present these “fortunes” to the confused manager.  Your meal is free!

 

Unless this guy is the kitchen manager. Then run. Run your ASS off.

 

This final one is a little tricky, but also simpler. It’s tough o carry out nowadays because big giant stores like Wal Mart tend to have their PA systems under closer scrutiny thanks to idiots like myself.  But if you DO happen to find an unattended store paging phone (some budget stores just have a keyable CB handset) grab it and tip off a quick all-store page for “Cleanup, STAT!  Feminine hygiene! Bring a mop, some absorbent towels, and a bucket of sawdust!”  Watch ’em scurry.

 

Subtlety? Look elsewhere.

 

I’ll talk to you later this week.  It’ll be a good ‘un.  Until then…

I Need Stats…STAT!!

A quick post since, you know…I haven’t done one in forever.  I need to give a tip o’ the hat to my good pal and fabulous international dream-expert superstar Lauri Loewenberg, whose site (ahem..lauriloewenberg.com) get visits from everybody, all the time.  Seriously, since today’s blog is about stats consider this: Lauri’s website gets enough pageviews a day to account for every single man, woman, and marsupial on the damn planet visiting it twice daily.  Twice. (Okay, maybe I’m just guessing on those stats, but still…)

A large portion of Lauri’s webhits (literally million a minute.  Millions.) come from people searching her out after seeing her expert dream analysis on shows like The View, The Today Show, Dr. Oz, and Adventure Time!  Okay, not Adventure Time, although if an animated rendering of Lauri showed up alongside Finn and Jake, my head would literally explode from the sheer awesomeness of it all.  The point is, her Facebook status yesterday was bemoaning the strange and, honestly, sexually deviant search terms entered into the likes of Google that ultimately brought people to her webpage. To test a, well, ahem…a theory of mine, I Googled “Lauri Loewenberg wearing a Slave Princess Leia bikini” and while I sadly did NOT find the requested images, I did ultimately find some killer new rock radio morning shows and a link to Lauri’s page.  See, kids?  Google works!

I think Ima hafta do another "page visit" if you know what I mean.

This whole thing led me to recall a blog I did a while ago on the strange search terms people have used to find MY silly little blog.  I hate to brag, but literally dozens of people have read this page.  Dozens.  And this morning, here’s what search terms have led people to my site:

It's nice to see that people have accepted that BBT isn't funny and are now more concerned with WHY it isn't funny.

“Short Pecker Awards?”  Really?  Well, shucks…I guess it’s a pleasure just to be nominated.

Another cool feature that WordPress gives bloggers is a measure of where in the world (literally) your page hits are coming from.  It’s pretty cool to see that two people from Turkey looked at my site today.  I credit that to Keyser Soze and company keeping tabs on me. (Special message to Mr. Soze: I’ll never forget what you did for me back in the fall of 2004.  Everything’s fine now, and the new penis works great!)

Hey, Greenland...what am I, chopped herring?!?

I guess in closing I’ll just say, well, thanks.  Thanks for checking me out, and reminding me just how small the world truly is nowadays.  Not as small as my pecker, mind you, but still…

Like/dislike

Hey, gang.  I promise to write another lengthy piece for you soon, because who doesn’t like a lengthy piece, amirite?  But whilst sitting with my three-year-old in the plastic, filthy, smelly, greasy HELL that is the McDonald’s playland, it occurred to me that, dog-gone-it, there are some things that I just don;t like.  But like they taught you in physics class, every action has an equal and opposite reaction.  Herein lies the lesson for today.

 

STUFF I LIKE!!

Calling the evening meal “supper” instead of “dinner.”

People who say “cock-a-roach” and “robut” and “sangwich” for the words cockroach, robot, and sandwich, respectively.  Usually these tend to be old people, and I quite enjoy old people.

Star Trek, and by only the slightest fraction of a degree less, Star Wars.  Add to this Firefly and the first Matrix.

Spider-Man and the X-Men.  Call me crazy, but Marvel knew what they were doing when they started making troubled teen superheroes.

Converse All-Stars.

Wearing a hockey jersey…and shorts.

Rational arguing with smart people who don’t share my views.  Good God, there’s nothing better than a good debate, as long as it doesn’t devolve into Facebook name-calling and TEA PARTY!!  FUCK OBAMA!  DERP-titude.

Winter becoming spring and summer becoming autumn.

The smell of surf wax and surf shops in general.  Also, the smell of hockey tape and the general smelliness of hockey.

To crush my enemies. To see them driven before me. And to hear the lamentations of their women.  And jambalaya.  Oh, boy, do I love some good jambalaya.

ANYTHING by Chris VanGompel.  Hockey Zombie, The Mario Brothers, TNT the Comic, etc.  Dude’s brilliant, and I am glad to call him my friend.

Does it make a lick of sense? No. Do I love it more than life itself? Yes.

 

STUFF I DISLIKE!!

Dudes (usually dads) that wear denim jeans shorts.  Please stop.  It is 100% worse if you also have a polo shirt tucked into it.  You make us dads look really horrible.

Ranch dressing. Seriously, Midwestern people…you’ve got to put down the ranch.  Try some Italian or balsamic vinaigrette.  Please.

College football.  I don’t hate it, mind you, I just don’t give a shit.  Also?  Golf.  I’ve played it.  Meh.

People that wear running or athletic shoes in their daily routine.  You can’t do that and be part of my society.  Wear some Chucks, some Vans, some Sambas, or some flip-flops unless you’re going to work, then have some nice wingtips or something.  Dude.

The Christian Taliban.  You know these types.  They’re beyond conservative and too crazy for the Tea Party.  They want Sharia Christian Law to govern our daily lives.  Too bad, because I drink, smoke, and masturbate, and will continue to do so.  Hell, I might perform an abortion just on principle.  Fuck, this group makes me angry.

Superman.  Really, I get it.  He’s fighting for truth, justice, and the American way (yeah, FUCK YOU, NORTH KOREA!!  EAT MOAR DOGS!!  HHAHAHAHALOLOLOL!!) But, c’mon.  Dude’s been around too long and, oh yeah: he’s invincible.  I hate that about him.

When I go to write with my ball-point pen and it’s not clicked into the “ready” position and I scrape bare pen-plastic against the paper…GAAAAAHHHHHHH!!! I fucking HATE THAT!!

Stuff that “tastes” like peanut butter.  Peanut butter “flavouring.”  Bullshit.  It tastes like a goddam dollop of almond butter with all the sugar in it.  All. The. Sugar.  Or it’s like you took a hairdryer to the peanut butter and made it into some sort of peanut lint.  Gawd-awful, is what it is.

Don't care whatchamacallit, as long as you don't call it "peanut butter" or "edible." Thanks.

 

STUFF I HONORABLY MENTION!!

Okay, I didn’t mention hipsters.  Of course I don’t like them.  Nobody does.  I figured it was a given.  Also, I failed to bring up ice cream for the exact opposite reason.  I mean, really…ice cream.  Ever been to a birthday party where they just had cake and no ice cream?  Remember how disappointed you were?  Exactly.

Also, it looks like I have more “likes” than “dislikes.”  I am a pretty positive person after all!  Yay, me!