I was in the car yesterday with the radio on, and Linda Wertheimer was hawking her upcoming local appearance in support of NPR’s 40th anniversary. I’ve heard this before, but it was the first time that it occurred to me that I’m older than NPR. Not just older, but old enough to clearly remember a time before there was an NPR. Not that I actually do (remember). As far back as I can recall, there’s been a WCNY radio station, though I’m not really sure when they started (and I’m probably older than they are, too). They play Classical music, and I’ve never been terribly interested in that. Yeah, I know, I’m a Philistine. I don’t really recall a time before WAER, either. That’s the SU radio station that’s also an NPR affiliate when they aren’t broadcasting SU games and grooming the next generation of sports broadcasters. I used to listen to them a lot, back in the day, because they played a lot of jazz but also had a lot of alternative types of music as well. These days, when I listen to the radio, I mostly tune into the third NPR alternative, which is WRVO.
Mostly I don’t listen to the radio at all, though, because I find it kind of sucky. Not that there aren’t decent shows, of course. But I prefer to listen to those “on demand.” NPR news has mostly gotten to be your typical corporate “they say the sky is blue, the other side says the sky is green” false equivalence noise machine. That’s why I quit giving them money (though I continue to treasure my Car Talk coffee mug and Guy Noir bobblehead, which I think I are the only surviving pieces of swag I have, though there might be a Nina Totenbag around somewhere). Of course it’s still a lot better than the commercial radio “choices” we have here. I mean, I can only listen to “Free Bird” so many times – even the live version (“play it pretty for Atlanta”). So, happ
Yesterday was a tough day all around. It started out with not being able to find my shoes (they had apparently been stuffed in a plastic bag and hidden in a storage area where I would be sure not to find them – though had they not been stuffed in the bag, I’d have found them), and went downhill from there. I don’t know if it’s allergies, too much sun, 5-day weekend hangover, or I’m just coming down with something, but I felt like crap all day. I’ve been hitting the oil of oregano pretty hard, but I got a late start on it (because that, too, had been hidden and I didn’t get to it until I got home last night), so hopefully that will clear things up.
I really should have taken the whole week off.
When I was in HS my mother used to take my clothes she did not like and hide them. Blues jeans, plaid flannel shirts, anything that stoked her fear of being thought of as white trash. This went on to include intercepting my mail and getting postal orders to stop some button makers from sending me catalogs (gimme an ‘f’) and then later, after I went to college, finding other things in places a normal person who was not a trained dog would never even think to look or be.
I don’t think my mother ever worked after I was born but she sure would have been a good candidate for the DHS or TSA. She’d love the little plastic gloves.
The grocery store I used to go to all the time now allows you to view your store receipts back to 2009, assuming you used your “Shoppers Club” card.
It appears that I purchased a lot of beer.
Hey PJ, can I visit Syracuse sometime for a couple days later this summer?
Whoa man, 800 dollars for airfare. I don’t think I can cover that. Never mind.