Thursday, 11/30

So far, it's been an interesting experiment.

I'm now around 3 decades or so into programming a pop radio station; in fact, if I may toot my own horn, I've even won awards for doing it. But because of circumstances I'm now also programming the other two stations our group owns, a country station and a heavy metal station. You'd think that thirty years of programming a pop station would allow me to slip right into the gig, but you know what?

It hasn't so far.

It's been interesting. Part of the job is easy; after all, the formulatics of placing certain categories of songs in certain places remain the same. But what's been a big leap is that, while I'm a wizard as far as pop music goes, I know next to absolutely nothing about country or heavy metal.

But I'm trying to learn.

In a way, it's like trying to learn a second (and third) foreign language. There are nouns and verbs and adjectives and swear words; you just need to learn what they are and in which order they go. Since I know nothing more about country music than “that artist is a guy in a hat” and “that artist is another guy in a hat”, it's been a subtle process. And since I know not much about heavy metal other than “that one has two thrashing guitars” and “that one has three thrashing guitars” it's been a slightly less subtle yet no less challenging process.

But learning I am.

I know I'll never approach the knowledge I have of pop music with those two different genres, but that's okay. I also know I'll never have an interest in listening to them, either, but that's okay, as well. As long as I know the difference between the first guy in a hat and the second guy in a hat, I can schedule the songs, and (hopefully) no one will know the difference.

Unlike, say, when I try to speak another language I've learned (like French) and everyone on the planet can figure out the difference.

Wish me luck!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 11/29

The stupid song's over 30 years old. I didn't like it when it was first out. So why do I keep listening to it over and over again now?

Sigh...

As some of you may know, I have a weak, weak brain. A song can lodge itself in my head for days at a time, or I can wake up in the middle of the night with a quirky 80s new wave hit running on repeat, and then spend the rest of the night staring at the ceiling while it blasts my brain at full volume. It's not a skill of which I'm proud, but it's one of the few that I do have.

Such is the case now. A couple of weeks ago on a “Throwback Thursday” we played a song from a one album wonder of the 1990s. I had actually kind of forgotten about the song for the past few decades, but when I heard it two thoughts popped into my head. The first? “I didn't like this song that much when it was out”.

The second? “The song doesn't totally suck. Why didn't I like it back then?”.

And then, of course, I made the mistake I often make. I listened to the song once or twice. And then five or six times. Before I knew it, iTunes was telling me I'd listened to it almost 20 times in a two day span. That's when I knew I was in trouble.

The (stupid) song that is now stuck in my brain? This one--

Everybody knows about C&C Music Factory's “Everybody Dance Now”, but they tend to forget about the follow-up to it, “Here We Go”, the song that is currently stuck in my brain. After listening to it almost 20 times over two days I can say that it's a much better song than their big hit. It's a little more rock in nature than “Dance”, and it samples Chic's “Le Freak”, which is never a bad thing. But it's not a great song. It's not a classic piece of work. It's certainly not a song that should lodge itself into my brain.

And yet, it has.

Hopefully, by writing this, I may have exorcised it from my brain. Realistically, by writing this, it's probably lodged itself even deeper into my brain. But in all honesty it was probably gonna stay there for a while, so it's not that big of a deal.

Check it out, if you dare. I'm hopeful that your brain is stronger than mine, and that you won't be listening to it 20 times over a two day period. However, if you do, let me apologize in advance.

It would be entirely my fault.

(jim@wmqt.com), weak of mind.

Tuesday, 11/28

Did you know that some people in the city of Marquette apparently can't read?

One of the things Loraine & I did on Thanksgiving Day was to head over to the Kaufman Sports Complex to play soccer. We don't often get to do that this late in the season, and we looked at it as a way to burn off all those calories we'd be eating in a few hours.

And based on what we did eat, I'm glad we played.

Anyway, the only pitch open this time of the year is one buried way in back, away from the road and anyone who may, you know, be looking. I mention that because three times while we were playing Thursday morning someone drove up in a car or a truck, got out, got their dog out, saw us, put their dog back in their vehicle, and drove away.

Because we were there they decided not to let their dogs run free, despite the fact that all three of them parked right in front of this sign--

Dogs are not allowed on soccer pitches at Kaufman because, you know, dogs poop. Yet the three individuals who drove up didn't care about the sign, and only left because there were humans there, humans who would see them violating the law. And that, of course, makes me wonder--

How many times a day do people let their dogs run wild on the pitch when no one's there to give them the evil eye?

The sign couldn't be any more obvious, especially to people parking right in front of it. And in all the years we've been playing, I've lost count of people who either don't read the sign or don't think that it applies to them. And it's only dog owners who seem to act that way, as I've yet to see someone golfing on the pitch, the other thing prohibited by the sign.

I've said this a zillion times before and I'm sure I'll say it a zillion times in the future. It's not all dog owners who do whatever they want with their animals; it's only 5% who seem to give the other 95% a bad name. Most dog owners in Marquette will happily keep their dog leashed, clean up after them, and don't let them run where they're not supposed to run. But there's a small group that seem to think the rules don't apply to them or that they're entitled to do what they want, especially if they try to sneak onto a soccer pitch where no one can see them.

Unless, of course, there are people already on the pitch, trying to burn off a few calories before Thanksgiving dinner.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 11/27

So--sick of turkey yet?

It's funny; while, unlike some people, I LOVE leftover turkey, I didn't have any sort of leftovers. That's because, since Covid, Loraine and I been making a casserole for Thanksgiving that combines turkey, stuffing, home made cranberry sauce, spinach, and pistachios onto one amazing dish (if I must say so myself). Because of that, we don't have leftover turkey.

And, if I'm being honest, I kinda miss it.

But I know that YOU may not feel the same way about leftover turkey, especially in the past few days, when you may have been dealing with said leftovers for most of the weekend. So, in light of that, and knowing that you may soon be running out of ideas on what to do with the eight pounds of it still sitting in your fridge, here’s a list I came up with a couple of years ago, a list of everything you may not have tried yet with your leftovers (or, at least, everything I could think of a span of about 15 seconds). Here we go--

Turkey chili

Turkey tacos

Turkey pot pies

Turkey pasties

Turkey casserole

Turkey croquets

Turkey canapés

Turkey jerky

Turkey latte

Turkey nog

Turkey & cranberry smoothies

Turkey bread

Turkey granola

German turkey cake

Turkey and dark chocolate cookies

Turkey & sweet potato jam

Home-made turkey Pop Tarts

And. . .

Frozen turkey doorstops.

There. Now don’t say I never do anything for you. And I hope that, if you still have any of it hanging around, that your turkey will soon head out the door!

Tomorrow, the story about how some people in Marquette apparently can't read.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 11/22

Absolutely no one knew it was coming.

I did something during my TV spot Monday that I've not yet done. At the end of the piece, which dealt with things everyone in the UP can be thankful for, I pulled out a prop. I hadn't told anyone the prop was hiding in my back pocket the entire 45 minutes I was standing in the studio, waiting to go on. And when I pulled it out and held it up to the camera, everyone in the studio, from Sarah to the tech crew to the reporters still hanging around, let out a loud & hearty laugh which you could hear perfectly over the air.

Why? Because I pulled out a can of beer.

I really don't want to over-explain it, so maybe it's better if you watch it. It's only two and a half minutes, so CLICK OR TAP HERE. Don't worry; I'll wait.

(this is just me waiting)

Okay, welcome back.

I have no idea where the idea for the beer came from; it just popped into my head while I was putting it together last weekend, and the reaction it engendered was even better than I could have hoped. More than anything, I guess I'm stunned that I could actually have a can of beer in my back pocket for 45 minutes and have no one notice, although I guess wearing a suit jacket helps.

It helps a LOT.

I almost cracked the beer open and took a swig as the bit wrapped, but it had been in my pocket for 45 minutes and, I'm guessing, was quite shook up. I mean, it may have been even funnier if it exploded all over me, but there was a lot of expensive equipment near me, and you know what?

I like what I do. I really wouldn't want to be asked not to return because, you know, I sprayed a can of Ore Dock Fresh Coast all over a camera. Besides, I'm kinda happy with the reaction I got just by pulling the can out. After all, it's not every day you can make an entire newsroom burst out in laughter.

8-)

*****

Have a great Thanksgiving, everyone. I have both tomorrow and Friday off, so I'll be back with something here on Monday. Try not to eat too much!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 11/21

I think we're gonna try it again. Wish us luck.

As you know, Loraine and I travel. Going to places that are different than Marquette, as great as Marquette is, opens our minds, exposes us to new things, and, perhaps most importantly allows us to try chocolate we normally wouldn't get to try. In fact, one of the things people like to say to us upon seeing us (at least after they say “we see you walking everywhere”) is “So, where are you going on your next trip?”

I guess as far as reputations go, it's not the worst to have.

Anyway, as you well know one of the places we love to go is Europe, but because of Covid and a bunch of other factors the only time we've been there since early in 2019 was for a quick trip to a soccer match last fall.

Well, it looks as if we're gonna try it again coming up in May. It's won't be one of those free-ranging rent-a-car-and-drive-through-six-countries adventures, as things may still be a little bit too up in the air over there for one of those. But what we're gonna go is fly into Frankfurt, hop on a train, and spend a few nights each in two German cities, Kaiserslauten and Freiburg. We've never been to Kaiserslauten, but Loraine's favorite soccer player was born there, and she's curious as to what the place is like. As for Freiburg, we've been there before, but I do think it MAY be my favorite place in the whole country, and seeing it in May, when everything is blooming, should be spectacular.

At least we're hoping so.

I don't have much more to say about the trip, other than the airline tickets are ours. But wish us luck. And now, when someone asks where we're going next, we actually have an answer.

*****

Speaking of my favorite travel partner (and the best travel planner) in the world, it's her birthday today. So if you happen to see her around, make sure you wish her a great day. Because, and I may be a little biased about this, she deserves it.

Happy birthday, Loraine!

Love,

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 11/20

Why do I torture myself that way on the weekends?

I know weekends are supposed to be for rest & relaxation. I know that weekends are supposed to be the time to check out for a few days and take a mental vacation. I know that. I also know that those 48 (or whatever) hours are supposed to be sacred, and supposed to be used for brain dead activities.. I know that.

Then why, in between writing TV commentaries and editing video and playing soccer and getting ready for a big history show, have I been playing with this book the past few weekends?

 

Yes, that's what it looks like. It's a puzzle book. With puzzles in French. That's what any normal person would do to relax on the weekend, right?

Please say “right”.

I saw the book in one of those discount book catalogs from which Loraine and I have built the piles of books on our kitchen floor. I figured it would be fun, and it might help me keep my rusty French skills a little less rusty. The first few puzzles in it were, well, fun. They were easy, and I was actually impressed by the fact that I was able to finish them. But then I got to what the book describes as the “intermediate” section, and that's when the fun ended. I apparently ran into the limits of my French, and spent the next few hours alternating between thumbing through my massive French dictionary for a little help and uttering little yelps of pain that caused Loraine to look at me with that look I get when I'm doing something a normal person would perceive as stupid.

That's a good way to spend part of a weekend, right?

The thing is that despite the pain I actually did have a little fun torturing myself. Heck, I might even have learned a new French word or two. Whether or not that's what a sane person should (or would) do with a couple of their precious weekend hours is debatable; I just know that's how I spent a few of my precious weekend hours, for better or for worse.

And yes, I know I need help. What's your point?

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 11/17

It's Friday, which means TV beckons, which means I'll be taking the easy way out by sharing something that I wrote five years ago. But since a majority of us do our grocery shopping on the weekend, maybe it's appropriate.

Have a great weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

*****

(as originally posted 11/30/2018)

I've been talking about food and/or grocery stores all week, so why stop now?

Right?

Actually, it's just something I observed while eating dinner last night, something so...strange that it made a piece of spinach shoot out of my mouth because I was laughing so hard at the absurdity of it all.

Sorry about that, Loraine.

Okay...what made me laugh so hard that a piece of spinach went shooting out of my mouth? Well, it was in a flier for a local grocery store (one of the ones I actually mentioned in yesterday's blog). One of the deals they have coming up is this—if you buy 4 of one item, you get a fifth, separate item for free. It's something grocery stores do all the time and, usually, the items are grouped together by some common thread. You know, buy four boxes of cake mixes and get a container of frosting for free; something along those lines. So just what was this particular grouping, the one that made me laugh so hard spinach went shooting out of my mouth?

Buy four Healthy Choice frozen dinners, and get a container of ice cream free.

No, I'm not making that up. I couldn't make it up if I tried. I wasn't seeing things, either. After I apologized to Loraine for shooting spinach out of my mouth I showed her, and she saw it too. There is a currently a deal at a local grocery store—buy four things that are healthy (heck, “Healthy” is even in the name!) and get a tub of fat absolutely free.

Now you see why I laughed so hard that spinach flew out of my mouth?

I don't know why the store stuck those items together. I don't know if the store just got a great deal on a bulk buy of ice cream and needs to get rid of it, or if someone actually sat down and said “you know, we should pair a low calorie dinner with a high calorie dessert. That makes sense, right?” I mean, sure it makes sense, or at least as much sense as going into a restaurant and ordering four pieces of cheesecake and a Diet Coke. But there it is, in the flier in black and white (or red, black, & white, if you wanna be technical). Buy four “healthy” dinners, and get a tub of ice cream for free.

America. What a country.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 11/16

It wouldn't be strange to put “cow” on one's Christmas list, would it? I mean, that's something a normal person would do, right?

Just asking for a friend.

One of my big projects this past weekend was putting together my annual birthday/ Christmas list, alerting family members as to what they may consider picking up when shopping for those two events in December. For most of my life, I've included a few items that I know no one in the world could get me, either because of cost or because of the laws of physics. But they're things I'd enjoy. I started off all those years ago with “world peace” and “my own spaceship”, and about a decade ago I added “a 25^th hour to the day” to the suggestions. And now I've started tossing a fourth item onto the list.

One of these--

I mean, technically, I'm not asking for a REAL cow, but a calendar or a toy. And I know you're shaking your head right now and going “cow?” As I always say, I have NO idea why I find cows so fascinating, but I do. And by adding it to the flight of fancy with which I end my annual birthday/ Christmas list it just shows that cows have made the leap up to equality with extra time and a spaceship.

But think of how cool it would be if someone DID get me a cow. It would be sitting there under the tree on Christmas morning (or, in our case, because we have a tree that's only two feet high, more likely ON the Christmas tree), looking at me with those big cow eyes as my human eyes wept tears of joy. I could then take it for walks and play with it and watch our very small backyard fill up with cow droppings in a matter of just a few days.

It would be glorious.

However, much like my yearly requests for world peace, my own spaceship, and an extra hour to the day, I realize that my requests for my own cow will go unheeded. And that's okay, I guess. After all, despite all appearances to the contrary, I AM mature enough to realize that having a cow as a pet, especially in one of the most densely packed neighborhood in the city, would not be a good thing. It wouldn't be fair to our landlords, it wouldn't be fair to our neighbors, and, I guess, it wouldn't be fair to the cow.

But a boy can dream, right? Especially with both his birthday and Christmas coming up.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 11/15

I suppose I should mark the anniversary in some way, shape, or form.

This will be the (gulp) 25^th year that I've presented what I'm about to present. I wrote it to use on the air one day, kept using it for the next few years, and then transitioned it to these when I started writing them 20 or so years ago.

(And just as a side note—I've been writing these for 20 years? Seriously?)

Anyway, for the 25^th year in a row, here it is. If you're celebrating the UP National Holiday, good luck. Stay safe. And try not to drink too much. For everyone else?

Have a great Wednesday.

(jim@wmqt.com)

****

(as originally read on the air November 15^th, 1999)

“’Twas the Night Before Deer Camp”,

by Jimmy Koski, grade 3.

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE DEER SEASON

AND ALL THROUGH THE CAMP

HUNTERS WERE UNLOADED BEER CRATES

AND LIGHTING UP LAMPS

THE RIFLES THEY HUNG

IN THE PICKUP WITH CARE

IN HOPES THAT A 10-POINTER

SOON WOULD BE THERE

I IN MY ORANGE

MY BUDDY IN GREEN

SAT DOWN TO A CRIBBAGE GAME

THE BIGGEST EVER SEEN

WE PLAYED THROUGH THE NIGHT

AND EMPTIED THOSE CRATES

BUT MORNING SOON CAME

WE DIDN’T WANT TO BE LATE

WE SET OUT AT SUNRISE

AT DAWN’S EARLY LIGHT

PUT DOWN A BIG BAIT PILE

IN HOPES THAT BAMBI WOULD BITE

WE SAT AND WE WAITED

AND WAITED SOME MORE

I KEPT MY EYES OPEN

MY BUDDY STARTED TO SNORE

WHEN TO MY SURPRISE

STANDING RIGHT BY A TREE

WAS A BIG 12-POINT BUCK

MY PANTS I DID...WELL, NEVER MIND ABOUT THAT

I BROUGHT UP MY RIFLE

I LINED UP THE DEER

THEN MY BUDDY WOKE UP AND YELLED

“HEY--WHERE’S THE BEER?”

THE BUCK RAN AWAY

I LOWERED MY GUN

MY BUDDY JUST LAUGHED

SAID “LET’S HAVE SOME FUN”

WE WENT BACK TO DEER CAMP

AND HAD US A BALL

SO LET ME SAY THIS--

GOOD LUCK DEER HUNTING TO ALL...

(copyright 1999)

Tuesday, 11/14

I was being completely serious.

My TV piece last night dealt with the nickname change for Marquette Senior High School. In case you're not from the area, there has been a contentious issue flaring the past few years about the old “Redmen” nickname, and it was finally decided to change it, causing a vocal minority of area residents to try & recall the board members that voted for the change.

You can just imagine what it's like.

Anyway, my piece came about because the board is soliciting suggestions for a new nickname. After spending the first 90 seconds of my piece filling in people on the guidelines or telling them what NOT to suggest (Marquette Roundabouts, anyone?) I shared my choice--

The Marquette Fire.

I wasn't joking on that one. The Great Fire of 1868 is one of the defining moments in the history of Marquette, and it was also a time when people who lived in the city set aside their personal differences and came together to help rebuild everything that was lost. That was one of my points for making it—maybe a new nickname (mine, or someone else's) can start to help heal the divide between people on both sides of the issue.

And yes, I'm an idealist. What's your point?

I'm pretty sure the school board will NOT be choosing my nickname, and I'm okay with that. I realize that my thoughts reflect a very small subset of people who live in the city; in fact, if I had to guess, I'd guess that I'm the only person in that subset. But I wanted to throw it out there, not only to remind people that they can suggest a name, but to also throw out a hint that maybe—just maybe—it's time to move on from the issue.

I don't know if that will ever happen, but like I just said—I'm an idealist.

Click HERE if you wanna suggest a nickname; the deadline is Friday. And if, you know, you want to suggest “The Marquette Fire”, I sure wouldn't complain. Maybe together we can even move it up from the 300^th most popular suggestion to, I dunno, the 298^th.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 11/13

 My dad will be so proud.

I come from a family of people who are mechanically inclined and know how to fix things.  My parents owned several auto repair facilities, one of which is still run by my nephew.  My brother's very adept with tools, and my sister, when I call & ask her to jump start a car with a dead battery, will actually head to You Tube and figure out that you need to stick one of the cables to a post on Loraine's car, because the battery is buried in the engine.

Me?  Well, let's just say that it's a good thing I know how to use a phone, because whenever something doesn't work, it's a family member (usually my dad, who's in Florida right now) who gets the call.

That's why I surprised myself yesterday.  Loraine's driver's side car door wasn't closing as tightly as she felt it should.  In fact, when we left the grocery store Saturday a little red light came on on her dashboard.  She slammed the door shut and it went away.

I put gas in the car yesterday, and when I got home I looked at the door, just to see if I could figure out what was happening.  Of course, I had no illusions; in fact, in the back of my head, I was already trying to clear some time in my schedule to bring the car up to my nephew so someone who knew what they were doing could fix it.  To my very untrained eye everything looked like it should; nothing was being blocked, and the door latch thingee on the door popped in and out.

I was about to shut the door (actually, slam the door) when I noticed the scratches.

Please forgive my lack of knowledge of the technical terms, but when you shut the door it latches onto this thing--

I saw there were a few scratches on the black paint around it, and when I touched it I noticed it was loose.  So loose, in fact, that the door wouldn't properly connect to it and wouldn't shut as tightly as it should.  

I had discovered the problem.

There are two bolts holding the latch-thingee into place, and they didn't have the usual screwdriver heads on them.  I'm guessing there's some kind of special car fixer tool you use, but I didn't know for sure.  Nor did I know if there was anything I could do.  But I tried.  I took my house key, which looked like it would fit, and tried to tighten the bolts hold the latch-thingee in place.

Amazingly, it actually worked.

The latch-thingee seemed to be sitting in there firmly, and when I shut the door it closed like it should, with no warning lights and what felt like a very tight seal.  I don't know how I did it, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to do it again. but I actually fixed something on a car.

And I didn't even have to call anyone for help.

I realize that for most people in most families, this would not be a big deal.  Most people in most families would just take a look and say something along the lines of "your latch-thingee's loose".  But I'm not most people.  Thankfully, though, some of my family's mechanically-inclined DNA must have been lurking somewhere in my body, and for a brief moment Sunday, I was able to put it to use.

So Dad...I guess there's hope for me yet.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 11/9

It may have been just what I needed.

I had another one of my usual long days yesterday, starting with TV in the morning, a few meetings about an upcoming video project after that, and then radio in the afternoon. These days are becoming more & more common, for some bizarre reason I'm still not used to them, and by the end of the day I might often need a pick-me-up. I got one at 4:45 when I answered the phone after soliciting an Instant Request, and I heard this--

“Hi, can you play ‘Superstition’ by Stevie Wonder”?

My usual reaction when I get that particular phone call is to imitate Homer Simpson when he drools over a box of doughnuts, and I did again this time. I also threw in my usual line about “Superstition” being one of the two greatest songs ever recorded (which, of course, it is) and had the caller agree with me, which is always a bonus. I then got the phone call ready for air, played it, and started the song.

I don’t what it is. I don’t know if it’s the drum beat, the bass line, the horns, or any combination thereof, but the second the song starts something inside me moves. My toe taps a little, my head starts to nod in time to the music, and this feeling washes over me. Even on a day like yesterday, a day when the world was turned all around, when I heard the first few notes of “Superstition” a feeling that’s a combination of happiness, contentment, and pure funk washed over me, cleansing my psyche of whatever ill was infecting it and booting my fatigue to a place from which it couldnt' return.

The power of that song is amazing. It really is.

The funny thing is that I don’t believe any other piece of music has that exact power over me. There are a couple of songs that I like better than “Superstition”; there are also a couple of tunes that I know are probably “better” than “Superstition”, as well. But there is no other song that has the power over my mood and my state of mind that “Superstition” has. I don’t know why; I probably couldn’t even explain it if I did know why. All I know is that a song that is, what, 50 years old this year can take even the worst day and make it seem all right.

I hope everyone has a song like that in their life. I really do!

*****

I have tomorrow off, as it's a corporate holiday, so there won't be a new one of these. I'll be back Monday, but really do feel that I need to leave you with this.

Have a great weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 11/8

I'm from Marquette. I don't think I'll ever be “done for the year”.

Sitting in the hallway at work is my “auxiliary bike”--

I think I've written about this before; it's a 30-year old steel-framed bike that I keep at work in case I need to get somewhere. When it's summer and I want to ride I use my new(ish) Giant mountain bike, but in case I need something at the spur of the moment while I'm at work I have my aux bike.

While I was working yesterday it was snowing out a little. It was mostly flakes in the air; nothing stuck to the ground, and it was more a nuisance than anything. However, after looking out the window, my boss said to me, and I'm quoting here, “looks like your bike's done for the year”. That might be true for some people but, as we all know, I'm not “some people”.

And I'm from Marquette, where you see people riding bikes through even the worst winter snow storms.

Now,. to be fair, most of those people riding during a blizzard are on fat tire bikes, which my aux bike is not. But that doesn't mean there's not some fool out there riding a regular mountain bike all year long. How do I know that? Well, let's say that there's some fool named, oh, “Jim” out there, and maybe—just maybe—that fool named “Jim” has ridden his mountain bike to each and every Harbor Advisory Committee meeting (so far) in 2023.

That's right...the fool named “Jim” took a bike from downtown Marquette to Lakeview Arena and back in January, February, March and April this year, and has plans to do so next week and in December, as well. Why, you ask? Well, I answer, it's quicker than walking, and if the roads are clean (which they usually are) it's just like riding there during the summer, albeit with a lot more clothing needed to stay warm.

Whether or not that “Jim” is a fool...well, I'll leave it up to you.

So no, my auxiliary bike is NOT done for the year. In fact, depending upon how you look at it, it may just be getting started. So if you see a fool named “Jim” on a bike some month soon in the middle of a snowstorm, you now know why.

He is, after all, a “fool”. And this is, after all, Marquette. We don't let a little snow stop us from getting somewhere on a bike.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 11/7

Oh, look. It got weirder.

I've been writing in here a bit recently about how my life has gotten quite...surreal over the past year and a half, everything ranging from my face being plastered on the side of a bus to me becoming the voice of a plumbing & heating business in New Jersey. Each time something new happens I think it can't be topped, and each time I am wrong.

The latest example? Well, the little TV show I've hosted for the past eight years began its new season last week, and when I went to into my Spectrum app last night to set up the recording for this upcoming weekend's shows, look what greeted me--

It's not bad enough I'm on the side of a bus, nor is it bad enough that I'm on TV in New Jersey.

Now, my mug is plastered all over a TV app.

I had no idea this was happening; I'm sure that, somewhere, Spectrum decided they needed art work for the show, and either through WNMU-TV or on their own they found THAT artwork. At least it's a picture with which I'm comfortable. There are many of them out there where I look like a dork (okay, even more of a dork than usual), and thankfully they didn't use one of those.

But still. A picture of me? On a TV app? Really?

I'm almost afraid to wonder what's coming next. I'd like to think nothing could top everything that's happened recently, but both you & I know that's a very low bar to clear. I don't even wanna venture a guess as to what it'll be; all I know is that it'll be weirder than my face on the side of a bus. Or my voice on TV in New Jersey.

Or a picture of my ugly mug on a TV app.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 11/6

It would be a hard choice. It really would.

Loraine and I did something just a little out of the ordinary Saturday. We took her car for a little ride and went down to Aldi in Escanaba. The fact that we had to drive 70 miles—to a town with half the population of Marquette—to visit an Aldi is bizarre in and of itself. We went down, bought the things we like to buy when we visit the Aldi near where her parents live (and that town, Caro, only has a third of Marquette's population), and then scooted home.

Oh, and Iron Mountain, a town with also only a third of Marquette's population, is about to have their own Aldi open. Are you sensing that something's amiss here?

8-)

On the way back we got into a discussion regarding Aldi, a store we like to visit when downstate, and Trader Joe's, a store we frequent while in Chicago. And that got us to thinking—if you could only choose one, which would it be?

Hard choice, right?

In a way, the stores are very much the same, in that they have slightly different products than most stores, and some of those products are amazing. Because they're both stocked with their own brands, their prices are different than at “normal” grocery stores, as well. I suppose both of those are things that draw us to them. You could also consider the fact that Aldi's based in Germany and has some cool European products but Trader Joe's has one of the best selection of chocolates anywhere and, well, you can see why it might be a hard choice.

Even Meryl Streep probably couldn't help us choose.

I don't think we ever actually came anywhere close to a decision, other than the conclusion that we're far more likely to get an Aldi than we are a Trader Joe's. Of course, in a normal world we already would have an Aldi, while towns with a third of our population would say “when are we getting ours”? But that's neither here nor there. The road trip prompted a question, a question that—at least for now—has no answer.

But at least the road trip gave us all kinds of goodies to nibble upon for the next few months.  Or, at least, until some sign that Marquette may indeed be getting its own Aldi.  Keep your fingers crossed!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 11/3

It's another one of those busy days, and a TV studio awaits (and yes, it DOES seem like I spend more time in TV than in radio studios these days). So I'll leave you with something from back six years ago.

But it's a piece that, for some reason, has always stuck with me.

Have a great weekend, and don't forget to do the Time Warp thing Saturday night!

(jim@wmqt.com)

*****

(as originally posted 11/28/17)

It took me 24 hours to figure it out, but I really am a lucky person.

Loraine was watching an interview Friday with Noel Gallagher, the brains behind Oasis, and the interviewer was throwing a series of rapid-fire questions at him. He would be given two items, and he had to choose which one he would give up forever if he was forced to pick. Most of them were goofy and musically oriented (“The Stones or The Who”? “Fender or Gibson”?) and gave Gallagher fits having to choose, but there was one he had no problem with—the city or the beach? He rattled off “the city” quickly; as it turns out, he doesn't even like the beach. The question, though, stuck with me. If I was forced to choose between giving up either the city or the beach, the two places I love to be in more than any other, I don't think I could. It's be like Sophie having to choose between her children.

There's just no good outcome to that question, and no one—NO ONE—should ever be forced to have to make that horrid decision.

As I've written in here many times before, I am an urban creature. I need concrete and I need people and I need the feeling of being a part of something. If you were to force me to live in the woods or in someplace without a sidewalk I probably couldn't handle it. And as I've written in here before, my dream job is being a (highly paid) beach bum. So the thought of having to choose between the two just wouldn't work.

As I was running the next morning I came to a realization. I realized that, living where I live, I would never have to make that choice. I would never have to choose between being in a city or going to a beach. I can have my concrete and sidewalks and people, and I can have my beach. I can have them at the same time. In fact, I've had them at the same times many times, as I leave work or my apartment, and hop on a bike or take a short walk down to McCarty's Cove or South Beach. I actually live in a place where I can be in a city AND a beach at the same time.

I live in a place that has BOTH of my versions of heaven. How many people get to say that?

I mean; seriously—how many people get to say that? How many people get to be in an urban core of a city and yet have a beach a few seconds away? Very few. And of those few, how many actually take time out of their day to appreciate it? I mean, even I think I've been a little guilty of taking the fact that Marquette has great beaches for granted; after all, they're just part of what makes this city so wonderful. Maybe it took that question to point out just how amazingly lucky we are here. Maybe when you're pondering having to choose between two incredible things, your eyes are opened just a little bit more as to how lucky you really are.

I hope I never, ever have to answer that question posed to Noel Gallagher. But in a way, I'm glad he was asked.

Thursday, 11/2

It's a good thing I REALLY like Jennifer Aniston.

I'm not on social media much these day, what with the ever-increasing workload we've discussed the past few weeks. But when I do hop on Facebook for a few minutes, just to see what I'm missing, I discover that, apparently, the only thing I'm missing is 11,000 pictures of Jennifer Aniston.

One after the other.

I'm not sure it's because Facebook's algorithm is broke or if it's just mad at me for not spending a lot of my time on the site, but I no longer seem to get many items posted by friends. Instead, I get a LOT of “suggested for you” pages, the vast majority of which are pages that post pictures from throughout the years of the “Friends” star. I don't know why; I follow nothing that has to do with her, so I don't know what would have triggered it.

But apparently, Facebook thinks she's the only thing in which I'm interested.

Now don't get me wrong; I have nothing against Jennifer Aniston. I think she's a great performer, and between Loraine and me there's a standing joke that I'd be allowed to dump my dear wife should Ms. Aniston come a-calling. But as to why Facebook seems to think that I'd be happy looking at a feed consisting of nothing but screenshots and paparazzi pictures of her?

Eh, not so much.

Like I said, I'm hoping it's just a bug in Facebook's programming. If not, if they think that I have that one interest and that one interest only, then I'll be spending less time on the site that I even do now.

No matter how much they think I might like Jennifer Aniston.

******

Before I go, I have to wish my favorite brother in the world a happy birthday! I mean, I'm contractually obligated to call him my “favorite”; after all, he's my only brother. But Marc, I DO hope you have a great day, and that the kids have something extra special planned!!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 11/1

I only have a few minutes, as I have to go shoot another episode of “High School Bowl” in a bit, but like ever other person of my generation I feel the need to share my favorite Matthew Perry TV moment.

Although mine ISN'T from “Friends”.

I've written in here a lot recently about one of the weird aspects of working in TV, how once you're done with something you have to start on the next thing because it's a monster with an insatiable appetite. Well, my favorite Matthew Perry TV moment illustrates that point perfect.

On his short-lived series “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip” he played the writer of a “Saturday Night Live”-type show. The only writer, in fact, which is something that would never happen in real life. In one of the first episodes the cast celebrates a great show, but he doesn't join in. Instead, he goes to his office, turns on a countdown clock, sees how much time he has left until the next episode airs, stares off into space for a second, and then sits down to start writing.

THAT'S my favorite Matthew Perry TV. For as much as I love “Friends”--and I do love “Friends”--there's something in that moment that shows he really was a pretty good dramatic actor. And, as I've discovered recently, it's almost a moment to which I can relate just a little too readily.

Okay. I need to run and feed that TV monster in a minute or two. But tomorrow, maybe I'll share the story about how another cast member from “Friends” has been invading my life the past few days.

Even though I didn't ask for it.

(jim@wmqt.com)