Good Night

I like my life. I try to understand what's going on in it. But sometimes I get confused. For example, you play hooky, and they suspend you from school. You need to relax, so you go for a ride on a roller coaster. Diamonds are a girl's best friend. But a dog is a guy's best friend. So many single women are always saying all the good men are taken, but so many wives are always complaining about their husbands. Stuff like that just doesn't make sense. As I explained in my book Staying Happy Healthy And Hot (available at Amazon dot com) I like stuff to make sense in my life. I'm not fond of confusion.

I'm sitting here in a rest area on the road to ruin. I had to get off, because the traffic is moving way too fast, and I want to take as much time as possible getting there. Actually, I'm sitting here in my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in my living room, trying to recover from all the end-of-the-human-race-as-we-know-it-news that's all over the internet, Time magazine, the newspaper, and the TV. Pessimists have never been so happy. The best we seem to be able to these days is to dread one day at a time. The middle east, the budget crisis, health care and the New York Mets...again.

There's nothing more comfortable than sitting here in my big, black leather, manly, poppa chair in my living room. But the "Boo-Boo Boogie Man" just started pounding on my knee again...the one I had replaced because he wore the original knee out. That guy is mean. And he sometimes sneaks up on me when I'm trying to do the Louie Louie Guy strut to get my Lady Wonder Wench's attention, like I was planning on doing tonight. I sometimes think he's jealous...like all the other guys who know about my Lady Wonder Wench.

Why is it that females frequently flee flatulence? Actually they always do, but I wanted one more f word in there. There are several f words that get the attention of the pure and pious forces for good in the community. Flatulence is of course the most fragrant of them all. The nick name for flatulence that rhymes with heart, is so terrible that I can't actually say it, because this podcast is carried on some radio stations, and the government is concerned about the effect that f word might have on the tender sensibilities of chil-dren. The government evidently has never spent any time listening to the conversation in a fifth grade grammar school boys bathroom. When I was in the fifth grade, I had a dog by the name of Whistle. Any time any of my family flatulated, we blamed it on the dog. Because lots of times when flagrance hit the air it really was the dog. He was so en-flatulated we had to keep him away from open flames or he would have become the dog-gone.

We need some Gum Control laws around here. Yackata, yackata, yakata... Night and day...stupid statements from politicians, TV talking heads, and every day people beating their gums...we've got to have some gum control here. Any time I hear the words, "Have a nice day", I get dangerous. My Lady Wonder Wench straps me down into my big, comfortable, manly, black leather poppa chair in my living room until I calm down. I get a terrible urge to jump up and shoot a shoulder launched rocket with a soap warhead right into the gums of the "Have a nice day" sayers. I think they should be hit with a big fine or even a jail sentence, or better yet a jail paragraph. As you very well know, people who say "Have a nice day" very seldom mean it. For most people, "Have a nice day," basically means "Go away. I'm finished with you. Now you're just bothering me. Go fall into a nest of hungry saber tooth alligators, gangsta rap singers and insurance sales people. And don't bother me again while I'm trying to tweet my twitter

Some people make a zap when they walk into a room. Other people take a nap. It's a physical fact that our bodies run on electricity. That's what makes our brains and our muscles work. It was a real electric current all those years ago, that made a ZAP go off in both of our heads. I just said, "Hello," and my Lady Wonder Wench's eyes lit up, her left shoulder lifted a little, and a 1,000 watt smile flashed for just a moment. If there have been so many short circuits in your life that your Zapper is no longer dapper, there's a quick zip up for your Zapper in this week's podcast.

I'm so pleased with myself, as I'm sitting here in my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in my living room. I'm pleased because of my hand-some-ness. Not in the mirror. At the ends of my arms. I remember, when I met my Lady Wonder Wench all those years ago...instantly...my ears wiggled, my eyebrows twitched and my hands made some plans. And through the years, I have taken every opportunity to use my hands some more with my Lady Wonder Wench. She likes it when I use my hands some times, to give her feet a little massage. When you give someone you care about a massage, both the massager and the massage-ee get some of what they used to call Good Vibrations.

I have just relieved myself. No, don't jump to conclusions. I am sitting here in my big, comfortable, manly black leather poppa chair in my living room, and all is well with the world again, because I have gotten my TV back up and working and that's a much bigger relief than I thought it would be. The satellite box broke, and I never realized how stressful my life would be without the TV. When it went out, it was a shock like when I opened the refrigerator door and found some kind of endangered species lurking there. I finally figured out that it was cheese. But it wasn't cheese when I put it in there. It changed. People are like that too. People change. Some people age like fine wine. Other people age like milk.

It's hot outside. It's so hot that you shouldn't text while you walk, because you could trip over something, fall down on the pavement, and cook to death. It's so hot, farmers are feeding their chickens crushed ice to keep them from laying hard boiled eggs. But the heat has created a convenience factor for farmers. It's so hot, their potatoes are actually cooking underground which means all they have to do is pull one out, add butter, salt, and pepper and chomp it down. But a word of caution, if you pull one of those potatoes out of the ground, be sure you use either a work glove or a pot holder...because they are hot.

I'm sitting here in my big, comfortable, manly, black leather poppa chair in my living room, watching the news on TV, and I just saw my least favorite politician blink. I love that. I love watching an idiot politician blink when he gets a question he's not expecting. Watch for that next time you're watching a news program. A blink gives a guy away. A blink and a wink are two very different things. A blink happens to you, and a wink you do on purpose.

I want to introduce you to a friend of mine by the name of Bruce Bradley. Lots of folks know about Bruce, because he was an important radio personality in New York, Boston, and St. Louis. Bruce and I worked together at the station in Boston where I met my Lady Wonder Wench. I'm going to play you a few minutes from an air check of my show one night, when Bruce decided to drop in, because I think you'll enjoy the fun.

I love "Once upon a time". This one is from my book, Staying Happy Healthy And Hot. Stories rule. Especially true ones like this. Once upon a time... 4:18 AM last night to be specific. I was asleep...in the middle of a dream that seemed to have something to do with Catherine Zeta Jones. I didn't even notice my Lady Wonder Wench getting out of bed and going for a potty break. But just as Catherine Zeta was smiling seductively and introducing me to her twin sister in my dream...Lady Wonder Wench cut loose with a shriek that must have cracked windows all the way to Greg's house down the block.

Remember, "It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring." How about "Raindrops keep falling on my head." And "Rain, Rain go away...." There's something magic about a summer rain.

Some time around the middle of August, we'll probably be tired of the Summer, because that's the way we are. But right now, it's back to kid-hood as far as I'm concerned. Lazy, crazy, hazy days...fireworks, beautiful girls on the beach...wow. Some life lessons about women in this podcast too. I told you about this a couple of years ago...but I just love it. And I'm taking a couple of weeks off for some doctor stuff, so I thought I'd tell you about it again.

My Lady Wonder Wench's family is Polish. I was sitting in the examination chair in the eye doctor's chair today, and he said read the third line from the bottom. I swear it spelled out the name of one of her Polish cousins. At least the letters I could see spelled out the name of one of her cousins. I missed some of the letters. Which made me stop and think about what I said in my book, Staying Happy, Healthy And Hot about the gratitude-attitude. I'm glad I could see some of the letters. Even ones that were smaller than the Goodyear Blimp or your average NFL linebacker. And something the doctor said got me started thinking about eyes, and the things we see...and the things that are sitting there in plain sight, but we don't usually see them.

It's early Summer. My favorite time of the year. Summer is a woman...hot, sexy, wild, hazy, soft, flashy, dangerous when wet, full of laughs, tears, stings and bites, endlessly beautiful, satin smooth, fragrant, promising, crushing...changeable. Summer has stars in her night eyes, with thunder and crickets, and little lover bugs flashing tiny lights hoping to find some little lover bug passion. I love the sand between the toes, and the surf in Summer's song. She has flowers and newly cut grass for perfume, and sweating, flexing naked passion in her nights.

This is part 2 of our SEVENTH YEAR ANNIVERSARY. It involves the top five downloaded stories this year from the Personal Audio CDs. Also a heavy duty note from Proud Podcast Participant Sgt. Tom...who I think...probably stopped talking to yell at his dog while recording his phone machine message.

I've been sitting here in my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair, doing these podcasts for six years as of this month. Actually, I haven't been actually just sitting in this chair for six years. I have occasionally gotten up for potty breaks, snacks and several other physically and emotionally functional reasons. But this month is our seventh anniversary of the Good Night podcasts, and the Dick Summer Connection blogs. Before we pop the cork on our beginning of the 7th year celebration, I want to thank you for giving me a few minutes of your valuable time again this year. Thank you if you've just joined us. And thank you if you've been a part of our "Huddle" from the beginning. Maybe all the way back to the radio days.

It's so comfortable sitting here in by big, manly, black leather poppa chair, after spending the last six hours hanging on to the cup holder in my Lady Wonder Wench's car with my seat belt tightened to the tourniquet setting, as she went careening down the highway, making James Bond skidding hand brake turns, and hurling great Polish curses at the other drivers...one of whom must have lost control of his car as he was zooming down the breakdown lane, because his car swerved back on to the highway right in front of us at about 85 MPH. I estimate that he must have been getting about 20 miles to the fender. It was a long drive back home from a visit with my brother John and his wife Beth down in South Carolina.

It's good to get off my feet...sitting here in my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in my living room. Tired feet are a problem for Louie Louie Generation guys like me. Getting off them is obviously a good first step...ditching shoes is good...soaking them in a shower...good stuff. But I found the best way to fix feet is with my head. I've found that's also a good way to deal with defeat. Feet and defeat. I take a minute...close my eyes, take a few deep breaths, and think about walking in soft sand, bright warm sunlight on my skin, gentle sea breeze...and I'm walking over to a beach blanket where my Lady Wonder Wench is waiting in her bikini, with a bottle of hand warmed lotion to give me a massage that starts at my feet, and keeps on going, and going and going. My feet usually just kind of forget they hurt. And nothing can defeat me.