No Catchy Title

Hello there, it's been a while. Not much, how bout you? I'm not sure why I typed. I guess I really just wanted to write to you. Alright, seriously, what kind of man gets off work at 5 am, grabs a McSkillet burrito and then bastardizes the lyrics to a classic England Dan and John Ford Coley song? I'll tell you. It's the same guy who knows we could go walking through a windy park, or take a ride along the beach, or stay at home and watch TV, you see it really doesn't matter much to me. Do I have you singing along yet? Now that I've gotten that out of my system, maybe we can move on. I blame sleep deprivation and an unhealthy fixation with top 40 radio in the 70's for the previous sentences.

It seems like the Summer is flying by. "Daughter" came home from camp the other day, and while I was glad to see her, I must admit that I missed the solitude. As any parent knows, the Summer is not the relaxing time we remember from our youths. True, sometimes those memories are clouded by a Norman Rockwell image that never existed, but that's beside the point. I never sat on a stool at the soda fountain with a kindly police officer while wearing his hat backwards, but I'm sure I had some fun"back in the day". Now my only concern is filling "Daughter's" days so that I'm not bombarded with the kid stand by, "there's nothing to do." Sure there is. Keep yourself busy by avoiding me. That is a great idea. Spend your idle hours thinking of ways to not aggravate me. If I sound stressed, let's chalk that up to the same things that made me type song lyrics a few minutes ago.

"Wife" and I had a rare evening alone and took the opportunity to go see the latest Batman film The Dark Knight. We used to go to the movies all the time, but like most parents, now it's a luxury. We were going for a couple of reasons. First, we were as sucked into the hype machine as the millions of other people who forked over their $8.50 for a chance to see Batman battle a really freaky Joker. Second, we needed to check the movie's content and determine if "Daughter" could see it. We decided that since we don't want to spend every night for the next month waking up to a nightmare riddled child, "Daughter" should just catch another showing of Kung Fu Panda. She's putting up a fight, but I really enjoy my sleep and her sanity. We've been accused by some people of being too protective of what "Daughter" watches on TV and in movies. Those critics are usually tank top wearing mouth breathers who take their toddlers to see the Saw films and then wonder why their precious baby is torturing cats behind the garage. Why, you ask, are you hanging around those people and discussing your parenting techniques with them? So I have someone to mock. Duh.

The Dark Knight is fantastic. I'm no hoity toity film critic, but I really dug it. Heath Ledger is a wonderful, creepy, frightening and evil Joker. The action is edge of your seat kind of stuff and the story is good. It's violent as hell and there were a few instances where my hand flew to my mouth granny style as I gasped in shock and horror. Maybe that tells you something. I didn't care that I looked like an aging, frightened matron. I held my mud and made it through, which might not be the case with younger children or guys who aren't as tough as I am. Yeah, I'm tough all right. Just ask the kid sitting in front of me who's lap I nearly jumped into. There are some people who say this isn't a good movie. I say those are not good people. They may be communists, hippies or crack babies, I'm not sure, but they definitely have a screw loose. If I had a catchy way to endorse this film I would, but the "thumbs up" thing is trademarked. How about this? If you don't go see The Dark Knight, locusts will devour your crops and a dingo may take your baby. That's a strong recommendation right there.

This is a "three scoops of Brian" weekend on WGN. You may have missed the first scoop, but that's the part of the sundae with the crushed pineapple and who really likes that anyway? I'll be hosting the fine WGN Overnight programs Friday and Saturday nights. Sure I'm on late, (2-5 am Fri/Sat, and 1-5 am Sat/Sun) but you'll still be up talking about how great The Dark Knight is. Have a great weekend. Later...Brian

Is It Wrong?

It's very quiet around the house this week. No, I haven't punctured my ear drums or dropped a couple hundred bucks on some sweet Bose noise canceling head phones. The cause of the quiet is the absence of "Daughter".

Sunday afternoon, "Wife" and I loaded "Daughter", a duffel bag full of clothes, a sleeping bag and a sense of adventure into the trusty Trailblazer and headed North to deposit her at Girl Scout camp. Daughter has been to camp before, but this one is all the way behind the "Cheese Curtain" in Wisconsin. After a two and a half hour drive punctuated by a run in with one of Wisconsin's finest ($211.20? Really? That will pay for a ton of curds Festus.) we arrived at camp. It's a beautiful, if rustic place, just how you'd imagine a camp to be if you ever were so hard up for an imaginary image that you allowed your mind to conjure the thought of a camp. "Daughter" will be sharing a tent with a couple of her friends about a hundred yards from a beautiful lake. She'll be going white water rafting and enjoying all the other traditional camp activities, such as avoiding being mauled by a wolverine and hiding from the hockey mask wearing, revenge seeking, machete wielding mother of a long since drowned boy. Ah, youth.

I should be a little jealous of "Daughter's" vacation in the wilderness, but I am not. What I am is really psyched about having a few days off from the non-stop job of parenting. If that seems harsh, then you're either not a parent or one of those Family Circus reading, Oprah watching, Brady bunch types who refuses to admit that sometimes, even the best, most loving parents need a break. If that's the case, write an angry letter to Parent's Magazine and try to have my parenthood papers revoked. To be honest, I've been conflicted about my enjoyment of a childless house. I love having "Daughter" around, and now that she's old enough to pick up after the dogs and do other chores, I'm starting to realize added benefits of child rearing, but I also enjoy being able to do what I want. Selfish? A little, but the sensation only lasts a week. That's what makes it palatable to me. I know that on Friday I'll be schlepping back over the border, loading up all her dirty, smelly gear and bringing her back where she belongs. In the meantime, "Wife" and I enjoyed a few dinners out, a bottle of wine and some leisurely activities without any parental responsibilities. Would we want that all the time? It depends on what day you ask us, but I think I can safely say the answer is no. We will enjoy the hell out of the next few days though.

Here's something I haven't written in a while. I'll be doing some stand-up this week. If you're in the South Bend/Mishawaka, IN metroplex this week you can catch me at the Funny Bone. I'll be there tonight, Thursday and Sunday at 7:30 pm EST. It's a great club and I haven't been there in ages. I'm looking forward to "hitting the boards" and doing some live, non FCC regulated comedy. Later...Brian

Hitchcock Has Nothing On Me

I was going to use today's post to simply plug the weekend radio shows, but that seemed so self serving that I had to give loyal readers something more substantial. Well, grab your plate and utensils and prepare to be sustained.

If you recall, last week was "Wife's" birthday. She had dropped hints that she would like a bird feeder as a gift. Being a sensitive, caring and observant husband, (talk about self serving), I took a mental note and thanked "Wife" for making my shopping easier, or so I thought. I arrived at our local "Garden Center" expecting to be in and out in about five minutes. How hard can it be to buy a bird feeder? All it is is a dish with some seeds, right? That couldn't be further from the truth. I was directed to the back of the store where I stood, hunched on my crutches, staring at an entire wall of devices meant to feed the same birds I had been cursing a day earlier for soiling my car with the remnants of someone else's bird feeder.

My mind boggled at the array of choices. There were the cheap plastic feeders, metal feeders that looked like houses, feeders for hummingbirds, finches, wild birds and pterodactyls. Another fun fact I hadn't taken into account was that squirrels enjoy eating bird seed, so you have to prepare for their free loading rodent ways. That opened up an entirely different line of feeders, the type that have a spring that shuts off the food window when some gigantor squirrel hops on the feeder to devour the bird's feast. If you don't want a spring loaded deal, you can buy a high priced motorized model that actually spins the squirrel into space if he tries anything funny. There was a video demonstration of that in the store, and I must be honest, the site of a squirrel flying through the air made me laugh for twenty minutes. I'm giggling right now just thinking about it. The next question to be answered is how to mount your feeder. Do you want it on a pole, in the trees, on a shepherd's hook? If you go for the pole, you need a squirrel baffle (see above) , then you need to consider moving the entire setup when you cut the grass. As you can imagine, my head was splitting with all these choices and I was almost to the point of giving "Wife" a gift card and letting her deal with all these nature loving questions. Hey, I haven't even gotten to picking the seed yet, but I hope from that statement you can figure out that it was as convoluted as picking the feeder. Do I really care that an animal who regularly feeds it's young chewed up worms won't like the seed I picked because it doesn't contain the right mix of sunflower seeds?

I decided on a mid-range feeder that was both decorative and squirrel secure. The mounting question was easier because this feeder did not come equipped with the pole mount option, so I got a hook for it to hang in the tree. The friend who had been helping me due to her "expertise" in the field, told me the proper seed and I was off. "Wife" loved the gift and we immediately filled the feeder and placed it in a tree in the backyard. After three days, no birds had come to our complimentary buffet. I was stunned at the avian snub and suggested we move the feast to another tree. That was the way to go. Now the feeder is the hot spot in the neighborhood for all types of birds. It's like a popular nightclub with blackbirds acting as the bouncers. They tend to run the joint and keep what I can only imagine are the undesirable birds out. Those lost souls sit in the grass waiting for the crumbs that drop from the feeder, kind of like the guys who hit the bar after last call hoping to round up the leftover drunk girls.

I'm really enjoying watching Nature in action. Yesterday a rabbit was hanging with the ground birds behind the velvet rope snacking on the leftovers. When different species can coexist in that way can peace on Earth be far off? Probably, because one of the blackbirds attacked the rabbit to reclaim it's turf. Ah, all is right with the world. I worry watching their violence that if I neglect to fill the feeder, the birds will turn on me and chase me, Tippy Hedron style, throughout the neighborhood. I've already caught some of them looking at me with their dead eyes and to be honest, it's a little freaky.

It's another "Two Scoops of Brian" weekend on WGN. I'll be hosting the Friday night (or do you say Saturday morning?) edition of WGN Overnight from 2-5 am and my own "original and still the best" WGN Overnight from 1-5am Saturday night/Sunday morning. I hope you can join me for all the "radio irreverence". Have a great weekend. Later.....Brian

You Want To Cut Off His What?

Some of us have a slip of the tongue and it goes unnoticed. Sometimes our gaffes are a little more flagrant and we catch a bit of heat from our family, friends or the recipient of said gaffe. Sometimes we are on TV and say something so crazy that the entire world recoils like they've just seen a naked Dick Cheney and gasps "what did he just say?"

Such is the case for Jesse Jackson. The never one to shy away from a microphone activist was appearing on TV to talk about faith based charities alongside Reed Tuxon of the United Health Care Group. At some point there was a break in the interview and Jackson tilted his noggin' ever so slightly toward Tuxon and whispered out of the the side of his mouth (yes, only one side which is unusual for the Reverend) "Sen. Barack has been talkin' down to black people over this faith based... I wanna cut his nuts off." Wait! What? I know, I saw the tape and just typed the words and I still can't wrap my head around it. Let me go back and watch the tape again. Yeah, I heard it right. Jesse Jackson said he wanted to cut off Barack Obama's nuts. It's like I'm watching a well dressed episode of OZ. No, not the movie with Judy Garland, the HBO prison drama where hardened criminals do horrible things like....well...cut off each other's nuts.

After the tape aired, Jackson released a statement calling the incident a "hot mic private conversation" and that his "support for Sen. Obama's campaign is wide, deep and unequivocal." He may have also said he wanted to make Bill O'Reilly his bitch, but I can't prove it.

Who's he trying to kid? There's nobody short of the Maytag repairman who has been on TV more than Jesse Jackson. If a kid doesn't eat a black Good'N'Plenty, he's on the case, so it's a little disingenuous of him to claim he thought the mic was off. You've got to figure the mics are live until you're in your car headed to Home Depot for the clippers you're planning on using for your amateur castration. Then to say his support is "unequivocal"? Obama's harshest critics have never expressed nut lust like this. I have yet to hear Rush Limbaugh or any of the "vast right wing conspiracy" express a desire to separate Sen. Obama from his manberries. If that's what Jackson calls support, give me a detractor any time. Jackson also said he "cherished this redemptive and historical moment." He may cherish it, but he sure went out of his way to sully it. In his defense, Reverend Jackson said he "cherished the moment". He expressed no undying affinity for the Senator's family jewels.

As of this writing, there has been no response from Sen. Obama. He's probably in hiding until he can hire a special security force to surround his nether region. Perhaps the Secret service needs to employ a brigade of midgets to protect the Senator from the waist down. They should check the availability of the Lollipop Guild. Those guys don't play. Barack might be out buying an athletic supporter with a cup, just in case the Reverend slips past security with a pair of pinking shears in his pocket and a heart full of bad intent. Just think, we still have four more months until the election. Watch your nards. Later...Brian

You're Not Getting Older. Yes You Are.

Today is "Wife's" birthday. That's really all I've got for today. I like to alert everyone to this monumental anniversary because it makes "Wife" crazy. She, like a lot of women (and men for that matter) like to let their birthday slip by quietly so they don't have to stare into the great abyss of aging. I won't tell you how old "Wife" is because, not only is that rude, it would prolong my sleeping in the "Comfort King". I will tell you that she is old enough to go to the store and old enough to get bread. Ha! I haven't used that one in ages. Not that I'm comparing "Wife's" age to an old joke. I'd better stop before I go too far.

Last night "Wife" and I went out to dinner to celebrate her special day. Tonight, she will be driving to the country to pick "Daughter" up at camp, and I will be napping in preparation for three hours of "radio irreverence". We had a wonderful time and "Wife" was able to enjoy some new kinds of wine. This is becoming her new thing, which is great, as long as none of her passion comes wrapped in a brown bag and bears the name Thunderbird.

I have to get her gifts from their hiding place now. I'm like a little kid in some ways. (Alright, in a lot of ways.) Despite my delicate physical state, I went shopping the other day for "Wife's" gifts. One of my friends was kind enough to chauffeur me to the mall and the other store I needed to visit. I knew what I wanted to get, but was unable to drive myself. I am always eager to tell "Wife" that I got her a gift. It's not so that she'll think I'm thoughtful and wonderful, (which never hurts) , but because she goes crazy trying to get me to reveal the nature of the gift. This time my evil plan backfired a bit. "Wife" said I was nuts for going shopping in my condition and that she didn't need a gift. Yeah right. Guys, don't ever fall for that. While you and I might be sincere in our aversion to gifts, the ladies aren't. They may not want you to drop a bundle on some shiny trinket, but never blow off some kind of gift and then say "well you said you didn't need anything." You may as well tell Fido to scoot over, because he's the only bedmate you'll have for a while.

Happy Birthday "Wife"! You remind me of some of the wines you tasted last night, sweet, bubbly and getting better with age. Dig my romantic leanings.

A side bar, I'll be delivering a triple helping of radio fun this weekend on WGN. Friday morning from 2-5 am I'll be in for Steve and Johnnie, then I'll be doing the WGN Overnight show Saturday morning form 2-5 am and my own "original and still the best" WGN Overnight Sunday morning from 1-5 am. If you're up late and can stop the ringing in your ears, listen in. Later...Brian

Light It And Run

It's the beginning of July when a young (or young thinking) man's thoughts turn to flags, parades, watermelon and fireworks. I am really looking forward to the 4th, not only for the chance to drop a little patriotism on some fools but for the opportunity to exercise my God given right to blow up things from China. truth be told, I don't know how much detonation I'll be doing on my gimpy leg, but if I'm forced to be a lowly spectator rather than an active munitions expert, I'll enjoy myself just as much.

Growing up, we were never allowed to partake in black market pyrotechnics. We were limited to "snakes", the fireworks equivalent of ...come on, you can't even put "snakes" in the fireworks category, and sparklers. Wow, how exciting. Maybe it was because my parents were law abiding citizens, or maybe it was because my brothers and I were not very coordinated and couldn't grasp the concept of throwing the M80 after it was lit rather than watching the pretty flame burn down the wick. Whatever the reason, my childhood was spent watching fireworks from a distance. I would "ooh and aah" like everyone else, but I was filled with the desire to be the guy with the burning punk lighting the fuse. After "Wife" and I got married we lived in a house a block from the Indiana border. Fireworks are legal in Indiana, so from mid June through early July, the area was as lawless as any border town on the Texas/Mexico border. Cars with blacked out windows and covered headlights would continuously make runs across the invisible line and try to out run Johnny Law back to the Land of Lincoln with all types of gun powder filled contraband. The lure of illicit explosives proved too much for me and on several occasions I channeled my inner moonshiner, put a false bottom in the trunk of my nondescript sedan, popped in the 8 track of Smokey and the Bandit and made (with apologies to Taco Bell) a run for the border.

A wondrous world of destruction awaits anyone who enters the land of legal fireworks. All sizes and styles of explosives are available for purchase. The mysteries of the Far East are collected under a rented tent in an abandoned grocery store parking lot. The only limits are your imagination and pocket book. Most guys, giving into age old stereotypes head right for the huge mortars in the long tubes. Dude, you're already blowing stuff up, give the Freudian imagery a rest. I would spend hours mixing and matching fireworks trying to get the most bang for my buck. (pun intended) After securing the loot, I would embark on my journey home, staying off the main roads, traveling through alleys and drainage ditches to avoid "the man".

This year I'll have to be satisfied with watching our town's fireworks display and enjoying the inevitable explosions of my neighbor's illegal collection. I'm torn. I want to feel that rush again of buying and transporting illegal fireworks, but I also don't want to set a bad example for "Daughter". I'll just sell it as one man standing up against an oppressive government hell bent on destroying our good times. That'll work. Be careful. Don't look down the tube of a "dud". Later...Brian