Blade's World

The Dumbest Thing In Rock

2012-01-29T05:58:00.005-05:00

The Floyd Council Memorial Headstone Project

You Gotta Wear Your Suspenders Brand

2012-01-22T06:37:00.001-05:00

The reason I get a kick out of beating my brother’s butt in Yahtzee is because he is such a funny loser.

“Let’s get a cup of coffee, I’m tired of getting this ass-kicking.”

I took two out of three with a final score of 679-516 at the Winston-Salem Barnes and Noble and like my man said, that is an absolute ass-kicking. In one of our three games I collected two Yahtzee’s which gives you a bonus of 100 points and any Yahtzee player will tell you that a Yahtzee bonus is very difficult to overcome.

Brandy said he had a really good week, that the Clubhouse all went to Wal-Mart and had cheeseburgers, and as they went outside to smoke, they met the cook of the burger joint outside smoking with them.

“That guy looked like he had been working there for a long time” Brandy said.

“What made you think that?” I asked.

“He looked rich. I bet he is rich. He asked me what I did for a living.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That I was schizophrenic and worked at the Clubhouse.”

At one point during our Yahtzee match, one of the dice had fallen on the ground underneath the table of a woman who was reading and he excused himself and reached under the table to pick up the dice when his pants fell down. The dude has no ass to keep his pants up.

“Damn Brand!”

“I forgot my suspenders.”

We both just laughed for a second and continued the game, I was debating on whether or not to takes my sixes or chance when he told me to hurry up. I laughed at his impatience like I always did while growing up, the dude had no patience and we all laughed at his aggravation when people were slowing him down.

“I heard you lost your job” right out of the blue, with a half smile.

“You could say that brother. I don’t look at it that way though.”

“Oh, okay.”

I thought to myself back in December, where will I be at the end of January? The answer is the same now as it was then. Nowhere. But man, it is one happy nowhere.

Reinventing Myself

2012-01-09T08:54:00.011-05:00

So….what’s next?

The first thing I do not want to do is find a “job” job. I couldn’t do a “job” job anyway. There has got to be a way to gain means without driving to work every day. I have three things going.

1.) I am now working with a band of young talented cats who want to jam. They can be on the jam scene with a little dedication and luck, they have asked me to be their personal manager. I am helping until I have to find a “job” job. They are talented and below is my first attempt at a music video, the last minute and half brings a tear to my eye, TERRIFIC guitar solo, violin work and funky ol' bass. The band doesn’t have a name yet, maybe they do, but I don’t know what it is. They do have one gig lined up the 18th of January at The Pour House.

2.) I am currently working on a documentary about Bullfrog’s efforts at clearing out Pink Floyd’s namesake Floyd Council’s gravesite in Sanford, which currently is a sea of brush and weeds. The man also needs a tombstone to mark his burial site, that is just stupid that the Floyd in “Pink Floyd” doesn’t have a headstone.

3.) The manuscript for “There’s Nothing Louder Than Dead Air” is at a prospective publisher. This is a 72,000 word autobiography of the radio world I spent most of my life in, which includes what you’d expect, sex and drugs and rock n roll. And also an autobiography that tells of the family I grew up in which featured mental illness, foster children, rehabs and a parrot.

All three current projects are intertwined with my golf game, because how stupid would it be to not improve my golf game when it is sixty degrees in January?

Total income so far from all three projects...

$00.00

“Make sure you do what you love.”

-Scotty Corcoran, golf and baseball buddy.

Yahtzee

2012-01-02T06:03:00.003-05:00

I pulled up to Brandy’s place on Reynolds Road in Winston-Salem and there he was, waiting for me like he always is. I tell him I will be there about nine in the morning and it usually ends up being 9:15 so he waits on the porch with a coke and smokes until I get there.

“Hi Brade” he says.

“Brade?” I ask with a big smile

“Yeah I changed it to Brade”.

I giggle and we’re off to a good start. It’s the brand new year but same as it ever was, Brandy jumps in and we’re off to find a place that’s open on New Years morning so we can get a cup of coffee and play some Yahtzee. This is new. We played board games when we were young to kill boredom and when we started playing board games again recently, all our competitive spirit as brothers came right back.

“Get beat.”

When we were boys and it was time for me to kick his ass in ping pong or basketball or poker, I would wander around the house until I found him and tell him…

“Get beat.”

I broke out the Yahtzee board game Sunday and he said it first.

“Get beat.”

I laughed pretty loudly, so did he, loudly enough so the old men and women sitting around us looked over, it was just like old times only not at home, we were in a Panera’s.

As I opened the box of Yahtzee, I pulled out the blue cup, the five dice and the score pads, he looked and exclaimed, right out of the blue…

“Inoculation.”

“Inoculation? What??”

“It’s what they do to cows.”

“Ok” I said.

It took me a second, but I figured out exactly what he meant, somehow his signals got out of whack again and what he meant to say was…

“Operation.”

This game reminded him of the board game “Operation”, another board game we played when we were growing up. I am pretty sure that is what he meant, it seems like thoughts hit his head and they come out all weird, unlike anyone else’s thoughts, but a family member or anyone who grew up with him can piece all this together pretty quickly to understand what he means. I figure this schizophrenia is just that, jumbled up memories and thoughts mixed up with weird voices that just come out of his mouth all fucked up.

I am so happy he is happy. He gets bored, but it’s better than being stressed out daily, I figure he has it made. He never worries about money, he has plenty of cokes and smokes, and he doesn’t have to go to work and deal with assholes. At the Walk For Hope this year, a caring volunteer asked me if I had a relative that suffered from mental illness and I told her that I do have a relative that is mentally ill, but he definitely is not suffering. And much of that may very well be a result of the Walk For Hope.

“Is Nick coming up Saturday Brade?”

“Yeah pretty sure.”

Next weekend it should be nice again, good gracious I am playing some good golf.

Rock Radio WKNC 88.1 Mystery Roach Show

2011-12-20T06:23:00.014-05:00

I was a guest on the The Mystery Roach Show on WKNC 88.1 Saturday morning from 8-10am, this is the North Carolina State campus station. I met La Barba Rossa at Cup-A Joe to talk about the music and this is a guy that knows his sixties and seventies rock. The guy loves music. We played songs like…

The Kinks – Johnny Thunder

ELP – The Barbarian (first LP 1971)

Yes – Beyond And Before ( the first track off the first YES album 1969)

King Crimson – 20th Century Schizoid Man (we talked about the album art which was recognized as one of the greatest rock album covers)

I was allowed to play one of my own songs and it was from a band I had played at my own college radio station way back in 1979. The station was WLOZ and we played all the tracks from this new LP because it had just come out. He had a bunch of albums but this one was close because it came out my first year on the radio, “Tales Of The Unexpected”.

I liked the line La Barba Rossa throws out there…

Blade: “I drank the kool-aid because I had to get paid.

Barba: “Of course, that’s why ANYONE drinks the kool-aid.”

The 2011 Tournament of Champions

2011-12-11T20:54:00.001-05:00

Well now that I can sleep in, I am overdoing it.

I am now sliding out of bed at about 5:15. I am up before the dog and cats.

I made a day of it Saturday by spending it in Pinehurst at Pinehurst Course #1 for the year-end Tournament Of Champions, I had qualified for this by winning one of the thirty tournaments over the course of 2011, I had won the tournament at Seven Lakes in March, one of the first tournaments of the year.

My golf has been shit since my lung surgery in May because I had to take two months off from any real exercise, you feel fantastic because of the drugs, but you have no stamina for at least three months, said my surgeon.

I quit the game of golf three times this year if I recall, and I will quit again soon I am sure, because I hate golf. I do. I dislike golf because it doesn’t make me feel good about anything, you cannot get better, only worse. At 9am Saturday morning all 120 golfers were ready for the day on Pinehurst Course #1, a short, simple course of 6100 yards. You would win a nice silver tray or chalice if you won your flight, I am in the “A” flight, but just barely. I am sure these prizes are traditional English or Scottish golf prizes because what dude would want a tray or a chalice.

I was one stroke ahead of my playing partner Scott Campbell when we got to the last hole, you don’t know how you stack up against the others because there is no leader board, but you know when you are doing well because we play in so many of these, we all know what it takes to win. We both knew we would be high on the board with our low scores, we just didn’t know HOW high.

I would have finished one stroke ahead of him if I made this five foot putt because he had just made a VERY lucky par, his tee shot went DEEP into the pine trees, but miraculously bounced right into the middle of the fairway, this made it an easy par for him. I was lying three with a very straight five-footer for par and I took my time lining this putt up, I walked around and around and I had a sure read by the time I let this putt roll so nicely and straight towards the hole.

Oh man, this was a nice roll.

So right as my Titleist 8 reached the cup, it took a left turn for no fucking reason.

I took after my Dad and muttered to myself.

“Gott-ddammit.”

So it was a bogey and Scott and I tied for the day with overall 71’s. The winning score was a 68, there was nobody in between. Scott and I finished tied for second, I had a hell of a day and so did he, we both received a nice gift card from the pro-shop, but I gave mine to him, and here’s why.

On the 14th hole, Byron Huff, our third player in the group asked me to mark my ball a club-head length to the right so his putt didn’t roll over my ball marker so I did just that. If you replace your ball on your marker without placing it in the original spot and putt it, it’s a two stroke penalty. You can easily forget to replace the ball on the original spot, and I did just that. Just before I was ready to putt, Scott reminded me to replace my ball on the original spot.

Now that was nice. He didn’t have to do that. He would have taken second place easily if he hadn’t done that, that is why I gave him my gift certificate afterwards.

Okay, I didn’t really do that. But I SHOULD have. I didn’t think about it until I was on the way home. I will see him down the road and I will give him the certificate then. Thank you Scott!

Check these guys out playing croquet on the main lawn.

Home For The Holidays

2011-11-29T09:41:00.000-05:00

“Hello?”

“Dave Menconi Bob, how are you?”

“Good.”

Dave Menconi is the music beat writer for the Raleigh News & Observer.

“Soooooo…..what are you doing?”

Believe it or not, that is probably the best interview question of all time. It breaks the ice, gets the ball rolling. I always start each radio interview with a question like that. Errrr STARTED each radio interview…

“I am walking the earth. Trying to figure it all out.”

And I WAS walking the earth near NC State with the dog. How did he get my number? Why did I answer? I never answer unidentified numbers on my cell.

“Did you know ahead of time?” Right to the point. I LOVE people that get right to the point.

“No I was totally blindsided by the whole thing. I am impressed. It’s hard to keep a secret like that in radio.”

“Will there be others that will be let go?”

“I don’t know, it was just me that walked out of the room on Friday morning after my air shift, I don’t know about any others.”

(clack clack clack on the other line)

“I don’t ever listen to 96rock” Dave Menconi said.

“I don’t need to” he continues.

That’s funny because I don’t read the News & Observer.

“I don’t need to hear the same bands with the same songs all over again, it’s been that way in this town for almost twenty years.”

Here we go with the pop/alternative/new music discussion with this cat again. that is what the man is all about. I have known the guy for 20+ years and that’s his deal.

“I don’t understand why nobody thinks that kind of music won’t work in this market.”

Don’t get me started. First of all, don’t ever use the word “alternative” around me. That’s what alternative music is, an alternative. That’s like going to eat Indian food. What about the word “alternative” says winner?? Alternative says anti-social and not mass-appeal, how do you make money with that?

Second of all however, I do understand what he meant and said so.

“Somewhere along the line, rock stations and their consultants forgot that people want to stay current” I told him. I stand by that. And don’t tell me there’s no good new rock music out there because that is TOTALLY wrong.

That’s why country music, f*****ing horrible rap-hip hop and news/political talk do so well in radio, they are current! You see their people on TV regularly and if your product isn’t on TV, you can damn well bet you will be second or third tier in terms of relevance.

The only time you see Eric Clapton on TV is when it’s an induction to the sorry-ass Rock-N-Roll Hall of Fame. You know what I’m saying. Clapton is God by the way.

“So I don’t quite understand the format yet ” Dave adds. “It sounds softer and more like the eighties.”

(well now he’s listening right? lol)

The new station at 96.1 is called “Radio 96-1. More Music. Less blah blah blah.”

But…but…but…

I LIKED my blah blah blah!!!!

I Take It In The Can

2011-11-24T03:46:00.002-05:00

From the forthcoming autobiography “There’s Nothing Louder Than Dead Air”

I got a call on the air from Tim one Tuesday, let's go catch The Replacements at The Cabaret. I loved the Replacements, I was going anyway, I had spoken with Paul Westerberg just an hour ago on the air, he had told me The Replacements were recording a live show that night and could I provide a loud, live introduction of the band, and if so, I could be heard on the CD, the show would start at nine pm sharp. Well, hell fuck yes I would do that. Tim and Skip the ass-kisser met me at my apartment at 7:30.

All three of us jumped in Tim's generic Camry, we gave him shit about this constantly..."what kind of a rock star drives that!"

Nobody has to ask where we're going, it's Finn McCools in Campbell because Tim knew the bartender Adrienne. She poured us two shots a piece of Cuervo Gold, we slammed the first one to get it rolling and slammed one for the road just before we left. In between the two shots, we each drank a Bud, I have to have it in a can.

"I take it in the can" I'd announce loudly.

"I do too. If it's not too big" Adrienne would always whisper.

“You’re in luck Timmy!”

Don't even TRY to tell me a Budweiser is better in a bottle because it's not. Skip the ass-kisser handed her a small folded envelope as her fee and we walked out at 8:30, enough time to get to The Cabaret to introduce the Replacements. The place was packed, my name was on the guest list, the doorman said to look for Wally who was looking for me stage left, Tim and I hustled to the bar, trying to lose the ass-kisser.

"What's up Blade. Beer and a shot?" The owner was Andy Miller, we did live rock concerts on the radio all the time from here and he bartended from time to time.

"Yes man. My friend Tim Stevens will take the same."

He fired off two shots of Gold right there, no fruit, two Buds in a can, poured himself a healthy shot of Gold which went down his hatch, we downed our shots also and walked off looking for stage left. In California, I love the fact that the bartenders could drink too. That made them nicer to us, and sometimes we wouldn't get charged, which we all as drinkers deserved, as much as we have drunkenly tipped undeserving bartenders.

There was Wally stage left as planned, and without even looking up, he slowly and uninterestedly points his crooked, crypt-keeper finger to the door leading to backstage, we step inside and there it is.

Ms Norma Stitz

2011-11-20T05:02:00.005-05:00

From the forthcoming autobiography “There’s Nothing Louder Than Dead Air”

I never chose the program director route because they do put up with a world of bullshit that disc jockeys don't, namely, they put up with the disc jockeys bullshit. Bob Edwards was program director for WRDU from 1996 until 2003 and he would make it a point to have everyone hear him say…

“F**king disc jockeys."

He would say that often and then walk off shaking his head.

Hell, I wish NO managerial job on anybody because they have to deal with random people's crap for that day. Some people like that type of responsibility, not me. I have made the decision, I "do my four and hit the door."

Disc Jockeys. Howard Stern set the tone for all those "shock jocks" in this country in the mid to late 1980’s, Perry Stone learned from Howard Stern and Perry Stone did it well. No others have done it well, although a few have tried. Howard Stern lives on, none of the others do, they were only pretenders.

To this day, I listen to the Howard Stern Show on Cirrius Satellite radio and he's not even really that shocking, he's like any other guy talking to a group of people, excepting the fact that he's actually on the radio. He doesn't swear all the time, only when he needs to. I listen in the mornings and I always have this wry smile on my face, and me picturing my wry smile makes me laugh even more. I shake my head amazingly at how everything he says is interesting, like no other. He truly is the "King Of All Media" as he dubbed himself. Me? I wouldn't even try a Howard Stern approach, because I am not smart enough. I do, however, get away with more than most people.

Back in 2004, a sixty-eight year old woman named Elizabeth Mortimer Robinson called me on the air after I publicly recognized the world famous Ms Norma Stitz, the world record holder for the largest breasts. The woman has 72 triple Z size breasts.

Astounding.

I don't know to measure a woman's breasts but anything seventy-two has got to be huge and I said so and Mom heard me that day.

"Bob. You're talking about a woman's tits on the air."

Silence on my part. But inside I was saying "leave me the f**k alone while I'm working and why did I give her this number." Not to mention, it’s just plain gross hearing your mother say “tits”.

"Before you say things like that, think what your mother would think” she throws in before I say I have to go.

At that moment I implemented a brand new learning tool for myself. "If you think your mother would disaprove of something you're about to say, say it."

Red Headed Waitress at 4th Street Filling Station

2011-11-07T19:30:00.001-05:00

Potatoes Creole for me. Downtowner breakfast for Brandy at the 4th Street Filling Station, Winston-Salem North Carolina. Their wait staff girls wear tight black pants and black shirts and I caught Brandy staring at them a time or two, but what’s a poor boy to do?

The difference between me and Brandy in that we’re both looking at the 22 year old, is that I know when to break it off, sometimes he looks just a little too long…

“Try not to stare too long Brand.”

“(Big grin) Oh okay sorry Bob”

Right about then, the 22 year old is trying to adjust the heat with a knob on the temperature control just above Brandy’s head for the heated patio we’re on, she reaches up and her tits just about smack Brandy in the head…he smiles wryly at me and I smile back, he says nothing and neither do I, I just look back down at my menu.

“Let me know if I am getting in your way” she says stupidly.

I say nothing which must mean that’s a license for her to keep on chatting.

“I am barely awake, I am not used to working in the morning, I usually work at night.”

Who gives a crap I ask myself.

She’s 22 years old and I am not, I don’t know how to talk to a 22 year old. What do you say?

“I had a job in Carrboro folding cardboard” Brandy pipes in. “I don’t work now, I am on medication at the group home.”

Well that closed the book on your chances bro.

The girl looks at him for what couldn’t have been more than a second before she continues…

“I wish the girl wouldn’t put me on in the mornings, especially on Sunday mornings because I might forget.”

“I went to Appalachian State and I used to eat these protein shakes which were good for muscle build-up and I only ate carbs when I was working out.” Brandy throws in.

“I have to work tomorrow night too but I am off Tuesday so I am definitely going to sleep in” 22 year old throws in.

I bet these two could go at it in convo for hours and neither one will say a word that has to do with the other, a totally dysfunctional discussion, but Brandy did better than I could have done. The girl had me speechless, the only thing I could have said was..

“Yeah that’s fabulous” in a totally slashing sarcastic way like my dad used to do when we told him something. But I said nothing.

How in the hell could that 51 year old Doug Hutchinson hang around that 16 year old Courtney Stodden for more than even 60 seconds?? This one is 22 and I can only imagine how much it worse it would be with a 16 year old.

Another of God’s mistakes was putting tits on a girl that can’t have a conversation to back them up.

Brandy and I walked along 4th Street for about thirty minutes, what a beautiful morning, gold and bright red and yellow trees everywhere. It was perfect until a panhandler ruined it all asking for money.

“No I don’t have any” I said very bluntly and shortly and kept walking. I didn’t feel bad either. I used to, but now I don’t.

I Am Done Again

2011-10-31T19:12:00.006-04:00

Gregg Duffy and I drove up to Lake Lure for the yearly one-day tournament on Saturday, we drive up each year to play in this golf tournament at Rumbling Bald Resort on a Sunday, the course is beautiful in the mountains and usually the leaves turn their colors this time of year and we did catch it at the right time.

There was a frost delay to the 9am shotgun start Sunday morning for 44 players.

“10:30 start fellas” the course ranger said as I pulled into the parking lot and he put my bag into a cart, it was right about 8:10am. Nothing worse than a frost delay in golf, I have always said the worst words in golf are these two when placed together…”frost delay”. It f***s up your whole day’s plans, especially when your plans include returning to Raleigh NC by 7pm so you can get a decent Sunday night’s sleep before waking up at 3AM for the morning show.

A 10:30 start means home by 9pm which is exactly what happened. Arrive at 8am, delayed start until 10:30AM, finish up at 4:30PM and that equates to an eight and a half hour day for one round of golf, another reason to stop playing the game all together.

I started on a 165 yard par three, number sixteen hole and as the first guy to tee off, I fired off a six iron into the hill of woods on the right and when I finished the hole I had written down a seven.

Four over par on the first hole, day is done. I am out of the running after one hole.

I am REALLY out of the running after two holes.

My first three tee shots on the hole number 17 went to the right into the woods, I had lost an entire sleeve of Titleist ProV1 golf balls in two and a half minutes. That equals twelve dollars and seventy five cents.

When I finished this, my second hole, I wrote down “11” and after two holes I was eleven over par. You just don’t know how close I came to throwing the bag of clubs in Lake Lure and just walking off calmly to enjoy the rest of my day. I should have, because not doing it only means I will have this same inexorably wretched feeling again, probably countless times before I mercifully die.

When I die, I will die a happy, fulfilled man because I know I will never play golf again.

I told the three guys I was teamed with…

“I am withdrawing, I don’t like this game enough to put up with this shit.”

Silence from all three which is the best thing they could have said. At that point I drove around with them in the cart, played a few holes, looked at the turtles in the creeks, took a few pictures of the pretty trees and said not one word. I walked off after 12 holes to the clubhouse to watch football.

"WD" it said on the score card and the leader board too. I could not have cared less.

“The only good thing about golf is looking forward to the next tee time.”

-Bob The Blade (said an infinite amount of times, implausible to quantify)

Five Dollar Cut and Heather

2011-10-23T11:18:00.002-04:00

What looks so weird about him? Oh it’s that he finally got a haircut.

I picked up Brandy about 9:30 Saturday morning and he had the usual big grin on his face and he waved to me from the porch of his group home, Robert was sitting on the porch smoking like he always is, looking at the bird feeder.

I am not sure what Robert’s story is yet but Brandy said “he’s cool, he’s been in jail a few times.” Robert loves that bird feeder and will go on and on about birds and about how the squirrels try to fly from the tree branch to the feeder and fall flat on their back on the ground nine times out of ten. The deal is…squirrels don’t eat or pursue safflower for some reason, so if you buy safflower, you have no squirrel problem.

Of course it’s more expensive than garden variety bird seed, so I won’t buy that. As head of the bird seed and bird feeder department at Parkview Group Home, I reserve the right to buy the cheap stuff.

“Where’d you get your hair cut?” I asked looking straight ahead as we drove down Reynolds Road.

“Some joint. It’s a hack job but it doesn’t matter I guess, it only cost four dollars and a one dollar tip.”

“Ok not bad for five bucks.” I tell him. I end up paying about forty-five after my twenty dollar tip to the girl who cuts my hair, she’s been doing it for about fifteen years now and hasn’t changed the price once.

She could fire me and I would totally understand, I forget appointments regularly and that’s a loss of good money because she is very busy and makes a ton with regular customers, a day without me is a day without forty-five dollars, but most of all, a day without laughs.

Ask her, she’ll tell you how much she enjoys when I come in.

“Remember when Mom used to rack us?” Brandy asks right out of the blue.

Then he laughs nervously, he wonders where that came from as much as I do, I think for a second trying to figure out the thought process and I can’t. Usually I know what he means or at least where the random thoughts that pop into his head came from, but this one threw me. I just can’t figure out how a thought of my mother racking us came into his head.

We had cookies and coffee at the Barnes and Noble and stopped and grabbed some cokes and smokes, we got back to his place about 1:30 where I sat on his porch couch and napped for about thirty minutes while he worked his word search.

This way I wouldn’t dose off during the ass-shit drive back on I-40 through Greensboro and Burlington.

Brandy’s Pedicure

2011-10-22T10:12:00.000-04:00

Impossible to tell the difference between somebody from Cambodia and somebody from Viet Nam. Or A Chinese person and a Japanese person.

“So where are you from??”

This is one question I love to ask to see if I am right while I am at the nails salon or spa, or whatever you want to call those places where you go to get a manicure or pedicure, or both. The entrepreneurs of these salons could be Laotian, Viet Namese, Japanese, whatever, but they are almost always Asian. Why is this?

It was time for Brandy to get a manicure and a pedicure and you just never know what is going to come out of his mouth when he’s out in public. Brandy has the classic “inappropriate laugh” which most schizophrenics have. They hear voices and sometimes those voices say funny things and as a result, right out of the blue, they will laugh for seemingly no reason.

That’s why it’s called “inappropriate”.

But listen, it’s inappropriate to us…but not to him. So really, it is an appropriate laugh.

To him.

With Brandy, it’s always funny no matter how inappropriate the timing because it’s always funny to see that huge grin on his face. People crack up when he does that, that’s part of why they like him so much I guess. I would look up from time to time at the salon and he would be giggling and the Asian woman would laughing too, and I couldn’t tell if it was because it all tickled or he was hearing those funny voices again.

At one point, I looked up and Brandy was talking in a make-believe Chinese voice, making up words.

“oh ai soachi mun hyah hyah hyah ya sayo.”

It could conceivably look like he was making fun of the woman, but she was laughing out loud at him and so was the whole shop. He was laughing too.

“I know one Chines word.” he blurts out.

“Sushi.”

All the women cover their mouths and giggle.

“Damn Brand. That’s not even Chinese!” I say to myself.

I will tell Brandy, like this past weekend, that we’ll head over to Jackson’s Guitar Shop to get a couple of new strings for his violin and I will look over at him and he will have his head up in the air with his eyes closed just quietly laughing and laughing to himself. Then he’ll look at me and apologize.

“Sorry Bob, I wasn’t laughing at you.”

“I know Brand.”

I got him a bird feeder this weekend with some safflower, because safflower is one thing squirrels won’t eat. Maybe that will give him something to look at while he’s sitting on his rocking chair on the porch with his smokes and cokes.

Couldn’t be happier.

2011-06-02T07:31:00.004-04:00

I trust myself to drive finally, I am down to two hydrocodones a day. The pain in my side is almost gone, the pain in my back is almost gone, I don’t hack up any more blood.

One of the miracles on my recovery from lung surgery is this. My lung was very very sore for two weeks and in those two weeks, not once did the thing I most dread happen.

I didn’t sneeze once.

I sneezed for the first time yesterday and it was a normal sneeze, it didn’t absolutely explode my lung like it could have before. What luck.

I have been back at work on the air for two days and I feel shaky and nervous still from pills and anesthesia, but you could probably never tell it on the air…what a dumbass I am, I was talking yesterday on the air about how exciting it would be when David Gilmour finally joined Roger Waters on stage in England for the version of Comfortably Numb and that it could happen this month and the phones lit up and I knew what that meant.

It happened while I was heavily doped up on the couch at home.

Might take a few to get back in touch. Able to perform, but I am not of sound state just yet. I will meet Mr. Hiruta tomorrow morning for a round of golf, let’s see how that goes, I had asked off for Monday because my tee time for the tournament at Duke was 12:40 and you should have seen the look on the program director’s face.

You can only try right? Okay I will miss that tournament, but it’s a long summer, plenty more coming up.

Nothing Glorious Nothing

2011-05-30T06:08:00.012-04:00

Dear Brandy,

Whew I had a close call there! I just had a surgery and they removed an infection out of my lung, sorry I haven’t been up to see you but I should be better by next weekend, I know it’s been three straight weekends I haven’t been there, I miss ya and I will be up either Saturday or Sunday.

My sisters and brother were able to see Brand all the weekends I was out, yet another advantage of there being five brothers and sisters, if I had checked out with lung cancer which the consensus seemed to be, Brandy would have been well cared for by whomever was left. My buddy Jim Collins who lives near Winston dropped him off some cokes and smokes this past week and said Brandy was smiling and polite, as always.

This hanging around watching TV and doing nothing is pretty damned cool.

Nothing glorious nothing.

I think I cleaned out my jeep in the last two weeks, that's it. What is the best thing about not working? Nobody pisses you off. My dog and cats have not pissed me off even once in the two weeks I have been racked up. Each day you wake up ready to rock and it's a beautiful day and you're happy to be alive and ten minutes into your work day, some clown has said something to piss you off. Or even worse, some dummy has done nothing to hack you off, it's just the sight of them.

Still, I creak out of bed like an old, old man, my back is still sore as crap, so is my side and so is my lung. Those pain pills sure do the trick, I slip two down my throat with a little water from the faucet and in twenty minutes, I am young and beautiful, not old and sore. They are vicodins and I only have two doses left so I will be on my own by Tuesday morning, **gulp**. And I don’t care what anyone says, I have a big golf tournament at Duke next Monday, I am playing in this tournament because last year I shot a 91 and I have a score to settle with myself.

I should be able to beat that score fresh out of lung surgery, hobbling with a cane and using only a seven iron.

I can see why people get hooked on these pain pills, no hangover, no apparent changes to your personality and they make you happy! No wonder they are highly addictive. I had these pills when I was passing those g*****ed kidney stones last year and I didn’t get hooked on them then, shouldn’t be a problem from this surgery either.

I don’t think.

The Infection Photo and the Pain Ball

2011-05-27T07:19:00.001-04:00

The “Pain Ball” comes out today and then hopefully things will start to get normal.

The pain ball is a ball of local anesthetic you carry around in a murse and it dispenses this numbing medicine to my side where the surgery was performed at a selected dosage. It’s inserted into my side with a very small coil tube. And it just hangs there.

Pain ball before. Pain ball after one week.

Doctors can use this for any surgery, reducing hospital stays and this pain ball is why I left the hospital earlier than expected.

I talked with Ross who works with Dr. Parsons and he warned me that the coil tube is really inserted in there, probably about twelve inches, I thought it was in there an inch or two, when he told me that we both laughed, and I don’t know why. That thing is IN there man. My side has been totally numb since I left Rex, so it definitely works.

It’s a pretty cool concept and walking around with the murse is no big deal, just make sure nobody sees the tubing hanging from under your shirt going to the murse because that looks weird, like you have some weird disease.

Gosh, now I’d really like to know where this infection came from, nobody can narrow it down, Dr. Parsons was asking questions like, had I been out of the country? Could this infection come from some chemical at a golf course? How could it have formed in such a short time, it’s a possibility this infection formed two short months ago.

When we figure out where these “infections” or “pneumonias” come from, we’ll have REALLY made some progress right? Did this infection come from playing all those Three Doors Down songs this past year?

This is the lung with the infection before the surgery. Can you believe someone knows how to go into a human beings lung and remove an infection like this? Mind boggling. The infection was tested and tested and tested for cancer during the surgery and I will always remember those words.

“I can’t find cancer anywhere.” -Dr. Alden Parsons

“Mrrowwwl”-Ted

One Week-One Dump

2011-05-25T07:12:00.001-04:00

My back yard Tuesday. Andy and St Francis, the patron saint of animals.

Maybe I can get out of this prison by the end of the week. And by prison, I mean home. There isn’t a movie I haven’t seen.

I have been watching westerns from the fifties!

The movies I have been watching are starring Shelley Winters, Gene Autry. People like that. Gene Autry was in movies? I thought he was just some famous fictional cowpoke. Jimmy Stewart. The only movie I have ever seen with Jimmy Stewart is “It’s A Wonderful Life”, I had no idea he was in other movies too…just as annoying in westerns as he is in “It’s A Wonderful Life”. Anyway, you can’t beat a good western, because in westerns, they actually have endings, these movies actually end. There is a story, a plot.

Our current movies don’t have endings. I don’t even understand today’s movies so I’ve stopped watching them. Explosions, gratuitous car bombs, and clash after clash with one cool new effect after another, they just confuse me. This quote from Meaghan Fox explains it all for me:

“I am the star of Tron and even I don’t understand it.”

One week, one dump. That magnesium-citrate finally made something happen on Tuesday, my first movement in over a week…I have no appetite yet, but I force myself to eat. My brother Brandy has this problem, years of prescription drugs, tough potty problems.

I still hack up blood from the lung surgery and when my vicodin wears off, I can barely walk. I have that kind of personality, I get addicted to everything…the scary part is coming up, will I be able to forget the pills?

Clear Out!

2011-05-23T18:10:00.001-04:00

Ross Goldbaum said get some “maxi-trate” and then he said after talking some of that, make sure you are near by.

“Near by what?” I asked.

“The toilet.”

I am telling you it’s been a week since I went number two. Now ladies, I know I know…you can’t pull your clothes off fast enough. But after laxatives and fiber and softeners, it’s come down to this: magnesium-citrate, better known as “maxi-trate” in the business. And by the business, I do mean “the business”.

Ross is part of the three man team of Parsons, Washington and Goldbaum, successful thoracic surgeons, they pulled that pneumonia out of my lung last Wednesday that most thought would be a cancerous tumor, but wasn’t.

“So your message said you’ve got a formication.” Ross added.

“Well I don’t know, did I leave a message saying I had formicated?”

“No, but that’s what the feeling of ants crawling around under your skin is, when you are taking oxycodone.”

“I did say that, yes. But I didn’t say anything about formication, I am in no shape for that right now.”

Some people get that feeling with oxycodone or other painkillers like I did, it numbs the pain, but you get this sensation like you are itching all over the top of your body and that you’re pulling little cat hairs off yourself constantly. He has switched me over to Vicodin and let’s see how that goes.

I had gotten an email from Mary Lou McGregor, an old dear friend, before I had found out that the mass was an infection, not a tumor.

“I should have gone to Bob Seger with you” the email said, I had invited her, but she couldn’t go.

“You know life is short.”

The girl had me spinning in the drain already, and she wasn’t the only one. So is it a new lease on life? No, not really, believe me, I have lived life to the fullest, there isn’t much I have to do before I go, I’ve been good enough. I haven’t been an asshole, but I’ve been good enough.

I have never had a “walk-off” anything. I want some kind of a walk-off in a baseball game before I go. That is one thing I will regret on my death bed, in all my baseball playing years, I have never had a walk-off.

Today I feel up and down. When the medication wears off I feel god-awful, but when the pain medicine has kicked in, I feel great. I will need the rest of the week before I head back to work probably, lung surgery is a pretty big deal, and the drugs tell you that you are okay, when you aren’t.

It is still all unreal to me, happening so quickly. I will never use the word surreal, I hate that word.

The Pain Ball

2011-05-21T09:36:00.001-04:00

Back at home.

I feel fantastic, but not really if you know what I mean. I am told everything would be hurting immensely if it weren’t for this oxycodone and this “pain ball”. It took about two hours to go through the procedure of unhooking me at Rex from the lung surgery, the last thing left is my “pain ball”, it is still attached under my skin with a little coil and it dispenses medicine to numb my side where all the incisions were made, nowadays doctors can make incisions and they don’t have to crack open your chest. The pain ball as you can see, comes in a nice little murse you carry around with you, just like Tom Brady has. Ted here is displaying the pain ball murse.

As the pain ball inside the murse dispenses numbing medicine, it becomes smaller. Genius! Carrying this thing around looks pretty pathetic but I am not complaining, glad I can carry it around! As I picked up my prescriptions toting my murse, I kept giggling and thinking about Gina Lynn the adult film star who came for an interview awhile back, because in her purse was a dog, not a pain ball. If a man carries a fanny pack, it’s a murse, if a woman carries a fanny pack, she has the right to still call it a purse.

I am serious, that cute little doggie went everywhere with her in her purse. Hopefully not on the set.

Rex Hospital in Raleigh has Cancer Navigators, and as far as I know, it’s a first. As Dr. Parsons was involved in this seven hour surgery, Bryant Washington, starring as the “Cancer Navigator”, observed the surgery, then walked out to the waiting room where family and friends were waiting and explained each step of the surgery to them. How awful it must be to have to wait seven tense hours without knowing anything. And in Dr. Parsons case, can you imagine just STANDING seven hours? The beauty of it all, is the “lymph nodes in question” were examined first and found to be non-cancerous and this only took an hour, so after only one of those seven hours, everyone (except me) knew that if there was cancer in this tumor, it had not spread and you talk about taking a load off.

Bryant and I cracked up because after talking, I found out he had won a trip to see Page and Plant “UnLedded” at The Omni in Atlanta from the station back in 1996.

I love sh** like that.

Don’t Give Up. Don’t Ever Give Up.

2011-05-20T02:01:00.001-04:00

I cannot think straight which means I cannot talk straight.

Morphine.

Did I make any sense on the air? Poor Foster. I called him on the air yesterday from my hospital room. The poor guy is trying to steer my morphine doused thoughts into something the public could understand, and who knows. I think I made sense but since I can’t think straight, that must mean I made no sense.

Does that make any sense?

I had a complicated six hour surgery at Rex Hospital Wednesday, it was a biopsy and lung tumor removal. First off, Dr. Parsons had to see if my “lymph nodes of interest” were malignant and one hour in, everyone knew they weren’t except me on account of the fact that I was stone cold out. The fact that these nodes weren’t malignant meant that if there was a cancer in that tumor in my lung, the cancer had not spread.

Is there a cancer in that lung? Everything I have read says that a person has lung cancer has a life expectancy of probably five years. I had no reason to believe this was anything but a cancerous tumor judging by the medical profession’s reactions around me, this tumor was “highly likely” malignant and there was “very little” chance it was an “infection” or a “pneumonia”. Not pneumonia in the typical sense, the blood disease, but masses are sometimes referred to as “pneumonias”. Dr. Parsons worked diligently cutting strips off the tumor and laboriously walking each strip, one at a time, into the office next door where the pathologist examined each strip for cancer.

First strip…no cancer.

Second strip…no cancer.

Third strip…no cancer.

Just trying to find some cancer here…so far so good but much more to go. If one strip has cancer, this will be classified as a malignant tumor and the journey begins. The five year dead end journey. I know that’s a touch dramatic but I’m just going with the percentages.

Fourth strip…no cancer.

Fifth strip…no cancer.

Sixth strip…no cancer.

Dr. Parsons told me afterwards that at this point, she had begun to be hopeful. I also think she said she had started feeling perplexed at no sign of cancer so far.

Seventh strip…no cancer.

Eight strip…no cancer.

Ninth strip…no cancer.

Six hours later after she removed the tenth strip without any sign of cancer, she woke me out of my deep sleep and I heard these words:

“I can’t find any cancer anywhere.”

I wasn’t supposed to remember these words she said, but I did, and I remember that I immediately fell right back into nowhere. “Nowhere” is the best word I can use to describe the feeling of being anesthetized, because that’s what it is, nowhere. Is this what it’s like when we’re dead?

Twenty minutes later as I slowly regained consciousness, she explained to me that this tumor wasn’t even a tumor! It was a “pneumonia” or infection, and that it had been removed successfully, that I do not have lung cancer.

You have GOT to be sh*****g me.

This “infection” totally resembled a cancer tumor and many times they do. After all this research and all these studies over the years, I have discovered that no petscan, catscan or x ray will tell you if you have cancer, it’s the biopsy that tells it all, and surgery is required for that.

Ummm…where am I???

At press time, it’s 1:49am and I have been MORE than generous to myself with this free morphine. I’ve never been to a party with free morphine before. I am officially really really doped up.

I like weed better.

The inside of my head must look like a kaleidoscope…head is nodding…pop one more morphine…done.

A Bit Of Bad News: Show Audio

2011-05-17T06:20:00.000-04:00

The Moment Of Truth. Surgery Wednesday.

2011-05-17T06:04:00.001-04:00

The pre-operational meeting is used for an interview with the anesthesiologist to see how you will do when you are put to deep deep sleep while you are being operated on, that was my Tuesday, if I got out on time, I would try to put together a radio show this afternoon for the first time in over a week because after all, American Secret Service agents had released the titles from Osama Bin Laden’s “extensive” adult film collection, and the people need to know.

“Double D’s in Abu Dabi”

“Close Shave In The Desert”

“The Shiites are Cumming”

My biopsy is Wednesday and I will have a camera inside my throat and something else through my chest to sample those suspicious lymph nodes near my lung and may I say this? I am happy to have a camera placed down my throat this time because it’s a hell of a lot better than having a camera in my d*** like when I had those f*****g kidney stones.

If those lymph nodes are non-cancerous, then before I wake up from being down under, they will have removed that five centimeter tumor out of my lung, this could be the best news I could have tomorrow. The goal is to wake up and have that tumor out because that means no cancer has spread to my lymph nodes and they went ahead and operated on the tumor. If I wake up and the tumor is still there, that will mean there is cancer in the lymph nodes and the process stops so I can begin chemotherapy and radiation. Once those nodes are shrunk or eliminated, then the surgery for the tumor can begin.

The anesthesiologist seemed to think there wouldn’t be a problem with the nodes, that I will probably wake up and have that tumor gone. He did intimate that the tumor probably is cancer, though.

How can the anesthesiologist know any of this? He’s just the anesthesiologist.

I accidentally called him the “anesthusiast”, like this is his hobby or something. Made myself laugh.

I am holding out hope this tumor or mass is just something f***ed up in there, not a malignant tumor. They give you up to five years if you have lung cancer-that’s what I read, don’t look at me like that.

That durned Osama Bin Laden was a freak man. What did you expect?

“Punjab And The Trouser Snake Charmer”

“Lawrence Of O Labia”

“Debbie Does Kuwait City”

No wonder the guy never came out of that compound.

No Tuberculosis For Me. Wish It Was.

2011-05-14T06:02:00.001-04:00

If tuberculosis sounds and looks like Doc Holiday in Tombstone, well I definitely don’t have that.

I took a tuberculosis test on Friday afternoon, where they insert an air pocket in your skin with something in it to see if you might have a tuberculosis infection which might explain the infection or tumor in my lung, but I have no reaction to it I can tell, it’s not tuberculosis and I wish it was.

You can treat and cure tuberculosis.

I went in to the station Friday to try and work on the air and I had a good attitude but the minute I walked in, it was all wrong. Understandably, Foster doesn’t know how to act, the mid-day girl Alli Morgan was in there and she doesn’t know what to do or say either and when the guy you work with doesn’t know how to act…how do you think the radio show will sound?

I told them this wasn’t my day and I left after being there about five minutes.

My doctor’s PA administered the TB test and all she could do was feel sorry for me and barely even look at me and let me say this…if I go by doctor’s and physicians attitudes around me, I am already dead. Dr. Parsons, the thoracic surgeon, is straight up and dead ahead and gives no indication of one thing or another, but it’s the fact that she gives no positive that gets me.

I totally expect a diagnosis of full blown lung cancer on Wednesday when I go for surgery, and there probably won’t be a surgery if the first biopsy on the lymph nodes in question have cancer, it will be radiation and chemotherapy until those nodes are shrunken or gone so they can remove the tumor.

Can you believe this.

The Results Of The Petscan

2011-05-13T12:42:00.003-04:00

The physicians assistant came in with her vitals cart and took my blood pressure and it popped up at 140/73 which is no surprise, I’ve never had a systolic that high and I know why it was that high, I was about to hear the news of my life, my heart was racing man. My usual blood pressure is about 100/60, an excellent blood pressure.

There’s the knock on the door as I am waiting, almost sweating, it’s Dr. Parsons the thoracic surgeon, she’s here to give me the news on this tumor that has shown up in my lung. Is it cancerous or not? You know it is, but there is a little hope it isn’t, there is a little hope it’s an infection, not a tumor. You can treat an infection without a surgery, but a tumor will have to be surgically removed.

Can she tell me if the tumor is malignant and above all, if it is malignant, has it spread? If it is malignant but hasn’t spread, we can remove it and go from there.

Dr. Parsons has a real level-headed clinical approach, she is straight forward and easy to understand, unlike many in her profession. I would guess she is about 32 years old, pretty blue but kind of sad eyes, quiet delivery. Comfortable. I assume she is from Maryland because she has the perfect no-accent speaking voice and to me, Maryland is the state that produces no accent, all the others seem to.

“We found out that there is nothing new in the petscan, but we don’t know that this tumor is malignant yet. I saw about three or four lymph nodes that lit up meaning there is activity there, but I don’t know what yet. It could be a cancer, but it might not, I will find out on Wednesday.”

You always wonder what the doctors and surgeons really know and think because they can’t tell it all, there is SO much that you can’t be sure of in cancer, I went through this with my mother just last year.

On Wednesday, the biopsies, Dr. Parsons will stick a few cameras and other things in me and either extract parts of the lymph nodes and this tumor to see if they carry cancer cells, and if they do, chemotherapy and radiation will ensue to either eliminate or shrink these lymph nodes first and then later on, the removal of the tumor. If there is no cancer in these lymph nodes, there will be the immediate surgery to remove this tumor.

Wednesday is the new moment of truth day. I thought it was yesterday. Damn!

My head is spinning.

So really, no new news at all on Thursday, just an appointment for the biopsy and surgery.

Now Wait Just A Minute Mister

2011-05-12T12:40:00.001-04:00

Dr. Carlson came in from checking on two other patients while he was checking on me and is this what all doctors go through?

“Wait hold on a second, I’ll be right back.”

He invariably will have to leave my room to check on at least two others while I am explaining what has happened to my body over the last year. Irritating! It makes it seem like you’re not important that day and that sucks because you only GET one day to explain it all.

Waiting waiting….

“Hey sorry about that.” He sits down once again and scrolls down through his laptop…

“So while on Crestor, your lipids are glowing finally but every bone in your body aches and you have headaches? Okay, obviously you don’t do well with statins, we’ll have to go in another direction…I have this……wait a sec, can you hold on a minute?”

Ugh.

After fifteen more minutes, Dr. Carlson comes in white as a ghost.

“Hey, more important than the statins and cholesterol levels right now…a density just showed up on your chest x ray and it’s worrisome, I think we’re going to have to get a catscan to see more. If I can get a scan right now across the hall can you stay for it?”

Well yes, I THINK so.

The results of the catscan revealed a “mass” in the upper lobe of my left lung. The problem is, I have to practically beat it out of my doctor, he won’t come out and say it’s a tumor in my lung…I have to tell him myself.

“A mass means a tumor right?”

“Ummm yes.”

“Well just tell me what you see, you won’t alarm me.”

“Well….we’re gonna need to get you to a thoracic surgeon today.” The guy is still white as a sheet, obviously worried and he can’t even look at me.

“Now hold on a minute! Just tell me what this is. Is it a lung cancer???”

“I uh…..it’s….this is very worrisome to me.”

“You said that already. Maybe it’s a pneumonia or something, something we can treat or something we can just remove?”

“It’s…this is real serious…I am having trouble finding anything positive to say about this.”

As I walk out to the appointment he has made with a thoracic surgeon, he shakes my hand and looks down at the ground, again, he can’t even look at me, so in my opinion, the guy has just told me I have less than five days to live. The poor guy is really upset.

The thoracic surgeon, Dr. Alden Parsons, sent me through two days of tests…mri for my brain, a couple of lung tests and a petscan for my upper body and Thursday at 11am I will probably find out that there is a five centimeter tumor in my lung and that is a cancerous tumor…the question is, has it spread? Dr. Carlson mentioned a few “lymph nodes of interest" off near my esophagus.

I haven’t worked in four days, and of course, my head is spinning.

“Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up.”-Jimmy Valvano

“Don’t muddle around in pity for yourself. You can beat this with a positive attitude.”-Coach Kay Yow.

“What the f**k!!-Bob The Blade