Friends, Rolands, lunch companions
So let’s say nuts to all that stuff, and talk about me for a while.
More accurately, I just want to say thanks. Thanks to all of you who voted for me in this paper’s recent “Best of Reno” issue in the category of Best Local Radio Bossjock. You should know that that kind of stuff not only is noticed, it’s appreciated. There is one brutal, Darwinian truth that is forever slithering around in the slime that collects at the bottom of the radio business, and that truth is simply that all of us in this racket are engaged, whether we like it or not, in the electronic equivalent of a high school popularity contest. You can be an absolutely brilliant human being with the coolest vocal cords in town, but if people don’t like you, you won’t have a job for long.
So it’s reassuring to get a little positive feedback once in a while. Thank God you weren’t around to see my Sally Field-like meltdown when Grimm gave me the news.
As for those of you who voted for me in the “Local Person You’d Most Like to Have Lunch With” category, I can’t help but wonder if some of you have fallen off the wagon and begun sniffing solvents again.
By now you should know that lunch with me invariably results in a droning stream of tall tales involving crop circles, Viagral experiments and super volcanoes, a nearly impenetrable fog of verbiage that could leave you in serious need of a 90-minute siesta. I’m talking Drowse Factor 9 here.
And then, there’s this: Once I get to motor-mouthing during a meal, I have an unsettling tendency to unleash speeding projectiles of food at anyone foolish enough to get in my way. For this reason, I usually advise all lunch partners to wear very light clothing.
As an oddball sidebar, the gent that tied with me in this lunch category, Dr. Bill Follette, is an old golf pal of mine. Indeed, I’ve devoured many a bowl of popcorn with Bill at the 19th hole, and I can report with raw journalistic accuracy that he is every bit as accomplished in the realm of sudden food particle ejection as me. In other words, he’s a rude dude with the chewed food.
As for this “Best Desert Nudist” business, well, I thought that particular postcard was one of the funniest things in the entire issue. I wish I’d written it.
And finally, Mr. Mike, you should be aware that both Roland and Cid are officially on my list of "cretins who need watching."