Good Night

I am sitting here in my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in my living room, after having a born again experience earlier today. I remember when I was born the first time, it was such a surprise that my parents said I didn't talk for about a year and a half. As I explained in my book Staying Happy Healthy And Hot, the Pimple People wouldn't have liked being born when I was born the first time. We had crew cuts in those days. We looked like a bunch of tennis balls walking around. There was no such thing as fluorescent Mohawk orange hair, giant Goth tattoos, and enough piercings that the combined metal could build a multi engine airplane. We had the Bomb, the hula hoop, Elvis, the Beatles, The Stones, protests, walking on the moon, Woodstock and Watergate. We learned how to duck and cover to put our school desks between us and a thermonuclear bomb. Guys like Walter Cronkheit explained on black and white TV with rabbit ears on top, about how things we take for granted like voting work differ

I am sitting here in my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in my living room, and I'm about to tell you about three little words that just came in over my phone that has made me wax philosophical. As I told you in my book, Staying Happy Healthy And Hot, I don't wax my philosophical too often, because I have found that friends tend to slip away from an over waxed philosopher. I am a grandfather. The three words are from granddaughter Sarah. The title Grandfather is the Phd of parenthood. The Pimple People think I am in the twilight of my years. And that's fine with me. Because twilight comes just before night, and night is when you get the best music, the best food and the best sex. Pimple People of the world, I am putting you on notice that although those of us who are members of the Louie Louie Generation no longer have rock hard abs and perky breasts like you people in the beer commercials, we have seen all the great bands, so "Ha." And "Ha" to you again if you think we are just left ove

I think I have discovered the true meaning of Halloween. Halloween features a squadron of little kids with hobgoblin masks, ghostly sheets, and little princess costumes coming to your front door, and threatening you with a trick if you don't drop some chocolate covered bribe into the swag bag. Kind of like the guys in Congress. Some of the kids are dressed up like super heroes...Spider Man, Bat Man...we even had a kid with a Superman cape on here last year. I don't think he had really learned how to fly just yet, because it was obvious that he'd just recently learned to walk. So what's the true meaning of Halloween? I've given it lots of thought, and I've come to the conclusion that Santa is behind the whole thing. He sends the tiny tricksters to scare us, so we'll stop messing around and start being good because Christmas is getting pretty close, and he wants us to know he's watching.

I was happily chomping away on my ham and Swiss on whole wheat with a slice of raw onion and mayo, when all of a sudden, I realized I had the sandwich in my left hand. I am a very right handed guy. I have often been glad that I am a very right handed guy. I started courting my Lady Wonder Wench in the days and nights of mini-skirts. Sometimes when I was driving, and she was in the seat next to me her left leg sometimes rewarded my right hand very nicely. So nicely that once I almost went off the road. It wasn't my fault. Wiping the "wow was that ever nice remembering that" smile off my face, I started thinking why is a right handed guy eating a sandwich with his left hand? When I eat from a plate, I always use my fork with my right hand. I can't use a fork with my left hand. I've tried. So how come my sandwich always lands up in my left hand? And why did that happen automatically. Who made that decision? Lots of things happen automatically to me. And I think to you too. You usually don't decide to take a

I'm sitting here in my big, comfortable, black leather pappa chair in my living room, in total shock. My Lady Wonder Wench just said the R word to me again. I think I'd better stand up for a moment, just to prove I still can. There. That's better. I knew I could do it. As I have told you before, I know that as a true Louie-Louie Generation gentleman, my years of having young lovelies whispering the word hunk behind my back...in lustful awe...may well be all the way back in my rear view mirror. Come to think about it, there are now young lovelies...and not so young ones... cruel ones...who might possibly say my rear view simply isn't really worth viewing at all anymore. Retire. In my book Staying Happy Healthy And Hot, Big Louie, the Chief Mustard Cutter of the Louie Louie Generation says, "You know you're ready to retire when work is less fun and fun is more work." I'm not there yet.

My Lady Wonder Wench and I were at the diner today, and as usual we were kidding around with our waitress...I refuse to say waitperson. There is no gender confusion going on here, Stacey is definitely a pretty young woman. As I have explained in my book, Staying Happy Healthy And Hot, I like waitresses and I have a lot of respect for what they do. It's a tough job, and whenever we can, my Lady and I like to try to give Stacey and the other waitresses we know a little chuckle to take their minds off their aching feet. Stacy likes to give as good as she gets. So as I was explaining to her that I like a little rice pudding under my pile of whipped cream, she gave me one of those looks that said, "From hunk to hulk in one whipped cream moment." So I quickly explained that I'm not really getting fat, I'm simply developing a protective covering for my rock hard abs.

Yesterday, my friend and next door neighbor Randy and I were discussing the fact that our kids are now driving cars, and we're riding our exercise bikes. Randy is a lot younger than I am, but we're both members of the Louie Louie Generation. So we started trying to figure out..."what is the subtle difference between growing older, and getting old"? So we checked out how Big Louie sees it in my book "Staying Happy Healthy And Hot." Getting old is when you sink your teeth into a steak, and they stay there. Your knees buckle, but your belt won't. You're sitting in your rocking chair, but you can't make it go. You get winded playing chess. That's getting old. But getting older, can actually be a little fun. Big Louie says "Trickery and deceit usually defeats youth and skill. It's like the baseball pitcher who smiled as the batters ducked when he threw his 100 mile an hour fastball a little inside a few years ago. And now, even though the radar gun is showing only around 89, the smile is still there as he watc

I've been sitting here in my big, manly, black leather poppa chair in my living room, watching ESPN. They just showed a video of New York Mets pitcher Matt Harvey on one of the rare times he got shelled in the third inning, and Terry Collins, the manager came out, took the ball, and sent him to the showers. Matt's looking down, and walking sadly off the field. Pitchers and other professional athletes do not like to be sent to the showers. I have always loved taking a shower. I was only an amateur athlete. I was a pretty successful competitive swimmer in school...I did the butterfly. That's a particularly painful kind of swimming stroke that requires you to pull your arms out of their sockets and up over your head over and over again for at least 100 yards. Although the whole competition was done in the water, I loved taking a shower after it. For one thing it kept the pool's chlorine from eating me alive. And for another thing, I just loved taking a shower. I take a shower every night. I love taking showe

Where the heck did the summer go? The lazy, crazy, hazy days of Summer...and the under the boardwalk nights, watching the fireworks...and making some of our own...and the most beautiful girls in the world in their summer dresses...and walking in the sand. There's still some time left, but as Big Louie, his own bad self, the Chief Mustard Cutter of the Louie-Louie Generation always says: "Life is like a giant roll of toilet paper. The closer it gets to the end the faster it goes." Time to grab a share of the Summer love you've got coming to you...it's going by pretty fast.

Summer is a woman. Hot, sexy, wild, hazy, soft, flashy, and dangerous when wet. She can be full of stings and bites...but she's also endlessly beautiful, satin smooth, fragrant, sweaty, and instantly changeable. But what a time to be alive. Summer has stars in her eyes, her song is thunder, and crickets and surf. She wears flowers and newly cut grass for her perfume. And her nights sweat with flexing, moonlit naked passion. Summer is such a time to be alive. Summer is a woman...warm and wet in a gentle September rain.

I love sitting here in this big, comfortable, manly, black leather poppa chair. It's in my living room. In my house. Which is on a road where the town guys just put a new sign. It is a sign that has struck terror into the hearts of everybody in the neighborhood. Especially people who have to get to work, and people who tend to have weak bladders. The sign says, "Detour". Getting where you want to go is tough enough these days. As it says in my book, Staying Happy Healthy And Hot: "Out on the road, you've got to compete with people driving at speeds ranging from sonic boom to car wash—and all you want to do is get to work. You've got to be cunning to survive. Of course, Big Louie, his own bad self, has some advice for surviving in today's traffic. For example, Louie says, "Never pass a driver who's on a cell phone. Neither that driver nor you have any control in that situation. Wait till he creams the truck ahead of him, then pass briskly on whichever side has less debris."

A funny thing happened to me on the way to this podcast. Actually a bunch of funny things happened this week. Not big belly laugh things, just funny stuff. My Lady Wonder Wench and I were at our favorite diner yesterday, and we both had club sandwiches. One of the things we like about that diner is that you never go away hungry. These two sandwiches came out...and they had to be about four or five inches thick. I have a pretty big mouth, so it wasn't a huge problem for me, but My Lady Wonder Wench has a more...lady like mouth. She also has manners. Especially table manners. So I was watching to see what she was going to do with this four course meal between some slices of bread. What she did...and I'll bet lots of ladies do this...is...she tilted the sandwich up, and bit off the lower part of the sandwich first. And then, just as she was about to bite the top part of the sandwich, the voices in my head all said..."Hey...she's eating the part that she just stuck up in her nose." One of those voices must have

I was sitting here in my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in the living room trying to think of what happened in my life this week that you might find interesting, and some of the voices in my head said, "Nothing happened this week." Then I remembered hearing an old Coca Cola jingle on the radio that said, "Nothing beats the taste of Coke," and all the voices in my head said, "Wow..."nothing" must be powerful stuff. They're telling me it even beats the taste of Coke." Think about it. Sometimes when I've done something really dumb, and my Lady Wonder Wench gets very quiet...for a long time...I ask her, "What's the matter" she says, "Nothing." And all the voices in my head get together in four part harmony and sing a line from the Star Spangled Banner. The one about "The rockets red glare, and the bombs bursting in air." That "Nothing" stuff is pretty powerful.

I'm sitting here in my big, comfortable, manly, black leather poppa chair in my living room, waiting for my Lady Wonder Wench to call and tell me she's ok. Since her accident a few years ago, I get a little worried about her when the damn phone doesn't ring when I expect her call. It almost never rings while I'm sitting here. It always waits for when I'm in the shower. The first indoor shower was invented in 1850. The telephone wasn't invented till 1875. That means if you were lucky, you could have spent 25 years in the shower without the phone ringing once. I have the last dumb phone in my zip code. All it does is phone calls...usually while I'm taking a shower. I also have a phone so old that it actually plugs into the wall. Imagine that. No it doesn't have a crank although I've always thought that might be fun.

I saw a sign today that almost dis-connected my batteries. It said, "Senior Living - 55 +". Do they mean in dog years? My pimples were just clearing up when I was 55+. I've seen the sign before, but today for some reason I got this mental picture of a place called Senior Living. The bird singing outside your window is a vulture. The guys who live there all have girlfriends who take their breath away...because they're all inflatable. And the candles on the birthday cakes are a serious cause of global warming. I don't know if you remember, but President George Bush the first visited a Senior Living place once. He went to the community room, and he walked up to one lady and introduced himself. He said, "Hello madam. My name is George Bush. Do you know who I am?" And she supposedly said, "No dear, I don't know who you are, but if you ask over there at the desk they'll probably be able to tell you."

It looks like I'm going to have to commit murder. Really. Most of you only know me as a guy who likes to sit here in my big, manly, comfortable black leather poppa chair in my living room, and talk with you on these podcasts. But I'm from Brooklyn, and I grew up as a pretty tough guy. Brooklyn guys are taught how to make a fist very young. I was 14 till I knew what fingers look like. Actually, I'm not going to kill that big guy myself, my Lady Wonder Wench make me farm the job out. I hired a guy with a flat nose, cauliflower ears, and a chewed off shot gun. When you look deeply into his eyes, you can see the back of his head. He was with the FBI. They caught him in Texas.

I enjoy sitting here in my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in my living room. Lots of guys get up early in the morning to go for a good brisk run. I like to get up early too...sometimes in the middle of the night...and I go for a good brisk sit. Now, the smart guys in the white lab coats are telling us that sitting is the new smoking. If you sit down too long, you'll die young. Ha. Too late now. I didn't die young. I always did my pushups, when I was young, and rode my bike and played ball, and did lots of swimming and stuff. Now I like sitting. And eating. Eating helps the farmers. It's an escape from the pressures of starvation. It wards off dizzy spells. And the best way to enjoy a meal is...sitting down. So I say, sit. Eat. Enjoy.

I'm happy. I guess it's true that things always change, and Big Louie always says that happiness cannot buy you money, but right now I don't care because it feels so good sitting here in my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in my living room. Happy is good. And I'm a happy guy just sitting here. Of course in my book Staying Happy Healthy And Hot, Big Louie also says "Don't let getting older get you down, because it's too hard to get back up." I can get back up. I'm pretty sure...but why change what feels so good? On the other hand...besides fingers...I've seen as a Louie Louie Generation guy, that the only constant in life is change...except from a soda machine. And it's true. Stuff is always changing.

Simple is good. Big Louie has come up with a simple answer to which side we should back in the middle-east. He says, "We should sell guns, rockets, tanks, jet fighters and nuclear bombs only to factions that promise to use them for peaceful purposes." Big Louie has such a way of explaining life's big questions simply and accurately. For example, here's Big Louie's Ten Tips for what Eternity feels like: #10 - Waiting for the stoplight to change when you've spotted a parking spot right across the intersection. #9- The second hour of a Monopoly game. #8- House breaking a new puppy. #7- Looking for a freeway exit when you realize you're going in the wrong direction. #6 - Keeping a smile on your face waiting for the shutter to click. #5- Waiting for a tow truck to show up. #4- Listening for the sound of a key in the lock at 2 AM. #3- Waiting for the results of a pregnancy test. #2- 20 minutes of aerobic exercise. #1- Trying to find a six cents error in your checking account. All simple insi

I'm getting comfortable here in my big, black, manly, comfortable poppa chair in my living room, after a short but expensive flight in my little airplane. I had to get some navigation equipment fixed. Having good navigation equipment makes for having a bad checking account. But having bad navigation equipment means your girlfriend probably won't join the mile high club. For those of you who are not familiar with the complex technicalities of airplanes, the mile high club has to do with sex at 5,200 feet...a mile high. And as Big Louie says in my book, Staying Happy Healthy And Hot, "Sex is an affordable gift for the man who has everything, even a small airplane. It's a valid way to make the earth move without having to use a shovel. It can turn a bad day into a good night."