Good Night

We hear way too much of the Herald Angels at this time of year. What have they got that we don't have ? It's the word HARK ! That word gets your attention. If you want to get some attention, whenever anybody asks you a question, start your answer with the word HARK ! In this podcast, you will learn other ways of getting attention...and girls...at this holy time of year.

Anything that's been making people feel good for more than 2000 years is worth checking out. But it's old and fragile, so you can break it before you get to the check out counter if you're not crafty and careful. My Lady Wonder Wench and I are proud members of the Louie-Louie Generation...so we've seen a few Christmases...lots of them together...some of them apart. Looking For Christmas is what we do now...together. It makes us feel good...even after all this time.

In the beginning, she was my secretary, and I was the boss. Somehow, that chain of command seems to have changed somewhat over the years. Some of you are SHOCKED! SHOCKED I TELL YOU!! That I would call my Lady, "Wonder Wench." She makes a personal appearance this time, to tell you how she feels about that. And this is the story of how it started one Christmas...a long, long time ago.

"Holly Jolly Christmas" is wonderful. So's Winter Wonderland. Jingle Bells rocks the cash registers every year. But the biggest Christmas hit of all time is a song composed by two guys nobody ever heard from...before...or after. Lots of people thought it was composed by Beethoven, or Brahms...it's so beautiful. It sings the spirt of the season with grace, and beauty, and peace. How would you like to have the only song you ever wrote, become one of the most cherished songs ever written. That's the story of Silent Night.

A guy's brain swims in a sea of testosterone, which absorbs some of the shock of getting hit in the head by baseballs, Yanni's music, and high levels of excess verbal communication. Preservatives stop germs and fungus from maturing. Therefore testosterone is an anti maturing chemical. That's the only real explanation for the MEN ARE SAINTS campaign. Happy Thanksgiving.

I knew that if I hoped to ever have my Lady Wonder Wench climb down from on top of her dresser, I was going to have to face the beast. I was going to have to go mano a mouse-o. It was an epic struggle, but I eventually won. Sort of. He was about 3 ounces and three inches. I'm about 180 and 5 feet 10. In the end, he had guts. In the end, I had poison. He was jumping ten times his body size. I was falling on my fanny. I prevailed. But he did good.

Some tv commercials snarl at you...others cream...some croon, "Trust Me." I've done my share of them...like the commercials for the original panty hose that came in the plastic egg... and the "Cross Your Heart" bras...those were interesting recording sessions. We have commercials for "erectile dysfunction" now...but how come we don't have any for condoms ? I thought we were supposed to be "fair and ballanced." Then there's that George Clooney stuff...it's all here.

A waitress told me a wonderful thing yesterday. She said "You look borderline like Sean Connerly." Actually, I look more like borderline Harrison Ford...I think. But her comment started a fantasy about My Lady Wonder Wench, Rose, Bill...and me, a small airplane and a ski lodge. An incendiary combination you say ? You're right.

Louie-Louie Generation guys and girls could have a huge, national "Middle Of The Night Wandering Around" convention. It just kinda sneaks up on you an inch at a time. You guys will recognize the first symptoms when you find you're reading the directions before you put together the "Easy to assemble out door grill." Girls need to be careful when you notice that you've bought stationary with your name already printed on it. Here's the rest of the story.

Just because I now have grey hair, my chest has slipped a little, and when I fly my plane I have to stop and think which is the lever that puts the wheels down, and which is the one that stops the engine... that's no reason for the recently hatched embryo with a backwards baseball cap and a tasteful assortment of pimples and nose rings to call me an "Old Man." Here's what I did about it.

We went to see the wizard...the wonderful wizard of Oz. He's alive and weird in Las Vegas. The secret story of two Vegas "Girls" this time, plus the old groaner about the "Chip Monks." Also...an explanation of why you should be careful about inviting a hypnotist into your bedroom.

Guys like very few things as much as giving each other a hard time. Especially guys who happen to be brothers. I'm not sure all guys give each other quite as hard a time as the hassles my brothers and I give each other when we get together. Here's what happened when my Brooklyn brother and I got together last weekend.

Wind, rain, high heels on marble floors, surf, leaves, a jet plane, computer keys, a telephone call in the middle of the night, your voice, your heart...they all make sounds. My dad made his living with music. He always said that the sounds make the notes, but the living makes the music. This is about living, and loving, and music.

We now have scientific evidence that drooling over a beautiful busty babe for 10 minutes every day is as good as a 30 minute aerobic workout for lowering blood pressure, cutting the risk of a heart attack in half, and improving the quality of life by zillions. The information in this podcast can actually add five wonderful years to a guy's life. Some heard hearted wives/girlfriends will not want their partners to know about this. Surely you will not be among their numbers !

Hurricanes, tornadoes, blizzards, heatwaves and ice storms get all the press. But it&s the soft, late summer rains, that make the holy water and mixed drinks of our lives. They calm us down better than any purple pill. They wash the air, and dissolve our inhibitions. Many a "relaxing moment" has been turned into a "right moment" in a soft late summer rain. This one happened right on my back deck.

We go to a restaurant called Manny-Hattan's...lots of New York pictures on the walls...the Brooklyn Bridge...Babe Ruth in his Yankee uniform...a famous picture of Marilyn Monroe at the Grand Central subway station. I have a picture of W.Wench taken in the Times Square subway station. I showed it to Steve, who owns the place...and he said let me put it on the wall...right next to Marilyn. I said GREAT ! W.Wench said...well...listen to the podcast...but I'll give you a clue...ask any woman you know how she'd like to have her picture on a wall right next to Marilyn Monroe.

I get lost a lot, and in order to get me home in time for supper, my Lady Wonder Wench bought me a shiny new calculating young woman who knows her way around. Louie- Louie Generation women need to learn how to deal with half ripe, shiny new, calculating 22 year olds. Big Louie, his own bad self...has some suggestions.

Never confuse a klunker with a junker. That goes for both cars and people. I drive a klunker...because I like it. It's like a mutt. You can park it anywhere, and not worry about getting it scratched...or stolen. If you come to a four way stop sign at the same time as a new Corvette, the guy in the klunker always goes first...we have less to lose. "Big Louie" always says, "There's a big difference between a klunker and a junker. A klunker is always worth...something"...that goes for cars...and people.

If you've ever had a physical exam, you know that rubber gloves are the worst kind of gloves. Rubber glove moments are usually nasty and quick. It's like you wake up screaming and you realize you haven't fallen asleep yet. You'll find out on this podcast what Big Louie says you should do about all rubber glove moments.

If there's really a heaven, are you sure you want to go? Maybe there's a better alternative. Better find out, before you find yourself all alone... in an empty doctor's waiting room...with a FATAL magazine...trying to figure out if you are a spirit with a body, or a body with a spirit.