Holder's "Stuph File"

The Stuph File Program - Episode #0012

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 17:41:27 PST

Welcome to the latest edition of the Stuph File Program.

For a program list of the items included and all their accompanying links in this one hour show, you can find the information on my website in the Stuph File Program section, or just follow this link to #0012.

To download the podcast, right click here and select "Save Link As"

Featured in this episode:

Stewart Stanyard, creator of the website The Twilight Zone Archives & author of Dimensions Behind the Twilight Zone.

Andrew Fazekas, The Night Sky Guy.

Odile Rault, creator of the website UseMyAccent.com.

A check of the Mailbag.

Steve Walsh, Our Man In The Heart Of America Checking The Pulse Of The Nation.

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If you have any comments or suggestions, or items for the mailbag, feel free to click on the "Comments" link below to add your thoughts.

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.

The Stuph File Program - Episode #0011

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 23:28:58 PST

Welcome to the latest edition of the Stuph File Program.

For a program list of the items included and all their accompanying links in this one hour show, you can find the information on my website in the Stuph File Program section, or just follow this link to #0011.

To download the podcast, right click here and select "Save Link As"

Featured in this episode:

Seth Menachem, filmmaker/actor & creator of the website LifeAdviceFromOldPeople.com.

Evan Beard, creator of The Girlfriend Keeper App.

A check of the Mailbag.

Stuart Nulman with another edition of Book Banter.

The Stuph File Program - Episode #0010

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 23:29:16 PST

Welcome to the latest edition of the Stuph File Program.

For a program list of the items included and all their accompanying links in this one hour show, you can find the information on my website in the Stuph File Program section, or just follow this link to #0010.

To download the podcast, right click here and select "Save Link As"

Featured in this episode:

Howard Fine, famed Hollywood stage & screen acting teacher and author of Fine On Acting: A Vision of the Craft.

Scot Nery, comic actor & professional juggler.

A check of the Mailbag.

Steve Walsh: Our Man In The Heart Of America Checking The Pulse Of The Nation.

The Stuph File Program - Episode #0009

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 23:29:46 PST

Welcome to the latest edition of the Stuph File Program.

For a program list of the items included and all their accompanying links in this one hour show, you can find the information on my website in the Stuph File Program section, or just follow this link to #0009.

To download the podcast, right click here and select "Save Link As"

Featured in this episode:

Al Bigley, cartoonist - he's the co-creator of a new comic book superhero that you can get online called Geminar.

Peter Holder (another one), a teenage rock climber from Britain who cheated death.

Remembering the late Soupy Sales.

Steve Walsh: Our Man In The Heart Of America Checking The Pulse Of The Nation.

The Stuph File Program - Episode #0008

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 23:30:14 PST

Welcome to the latest edition of the Stuph File Program.

For a program list of the items included and all their accompanying links in this one hour show, you can find the information on my website in the Stuph File Program section, or just follow this link to #0008.

To download the podcast, right click here and select "Save Link As"

Featured in this episode:

Greg Kohfeldt runs Greg's Auto Repair in Florence, New Jersey. If you stop by his establishment, you'll be able to use Hitler's toilet.

Robert Ferringo is a sports handicapper who guides bettors on docsports.com.

A check of the mailbag.

Stuart Nulman reviews another book on a new edition of Book Banter.

The Stuph File Podcast - Episode #0007

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 23:30:54 PST

Welcome to the latest edition of the podcast.

For a program list of the items included and all their accompanying links in this one hour show, you can find the information on my website in the Stuph File Program section, or just follow this link to #0007.

To download the podcast, right click here and select "Save Link As"

Featured in this episode:

Marc Abrahams, editor, Annals Of Improbable Research, the folks behind the Ig Nobel Awards.
Brian Heiler, who runs the website PlaidStallions.com.
A check of the mailbag.
Steve Walsh: Our Man In The Heart Of America Checking The Pulse Of The Nation.

The Stuph File Podcast - Episode #0006

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 23:31:09 PST

Welcome to the latest edition of the podcast.

For a program list of the items included and all their accompanying links in this one hour show, you can find the information on my website in the Podcast section, or just follow this link to #0006.

To download the podcast, right click here and select "Save Link As"

Featured in this episode:

Naya Rivera, actress & one of the stars of Fox's Glee.
Steve Truitt, author of Stop Waiting For Permission.
A check of the mailbag.
Steve Walsh: Our Man In The Heart Of America Checking The Pulse Of The Nation.

The Stuph File Podcast - Episode #0005

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 23:31:40 PST

Welcome to the latest edition of the podcast.

For a program list of the items included and all their accompanying links in this one hour show, you can find the information on my website in the Podcast section, or just follow this link to #0005.

To download the podcast, right click here and select "Save Link As"

Featured in this episode:

Mike English, president of Llama Caddy.
Tom Van Daele from the website CardsOfChange.com.
A check of the mailbag.
A Stuph File Moment In History.

The Stuph File Podcast - Episode #0004

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 23:31:56 PST

Welcome to the latest edition of the podcast.

For a program list of the items included and all their accompanying links in this one hour show, you can find the information on my website in the Podcast section, or just follow this link to #0004.

To download the podcast, right click here and select "Save Link As"

Featured in this episode:

Robert J. Sawyer, science fiction writer & author of FlashForward.
Yvette Nicole Brown, actress & one of the stars of NBC's new comedy Community.
A check of the mailbag.
Steve Walsh: Our Man In The Heart Of America Checking The Pulse Of The Nation.

The Stuph File Podcast - Episode #0003

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 23:32:13 PST

Welcome to the third edition of the podcast.

For a program list of the items included and all their accompanying links in this one hour show, you can find the information on my website in the Podcast section, or just follow this link to #0003.

To download the podcast, right click here and select "Save Link As"

Featured in this episode:

Mike Armstrong, Quebec correspondent, Global National.
Walt Noon, flea circus operator.
A check of the mailbag.
Steve Walsh: Our Man In The Heart Of America Checking The Pulse Of The Nation.

The Stuph File Podcast - Episode #0002

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 23:32:29 PST

Welcome to the second edition of the podcast.

For a program list of the items included and all their accompanying links in this one hour show, you can find the information on my website in the Podcast section, or just follow this link to #0002.

To download the podcast, right click here and select "Save Link As"

Featured in this episode:

Steve Gillman, creator of the website UnusualWaysToMakeMoney.com.
Jason Peffley, creator of the website RegretfulMorning.com.
A check of the mailbag.
Steve Walsh: Our Man In The Heart Of America Checking The Pulse Of The Nation.

The Stuph File Podcast - Episode #0001

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 23:33:34 PST

I have toyed with the idea of doing a podcast, so I have tentatively created a version of what I think it might sound like. Basically, it would be a weekly, one hour version of the old radio show. Give it a listen. Let me know what you think. This is only the first one. There could be many more, or it could become a collector's item. Only time will tell.'

To download the podcast, right click here and select "Save Link As"

Click logo for iTunes podcast subscription

The inaugural show features, among other things, an interview with Mitch Joel, president of Twist Image; a feature on video tombstones and the return of Steve Walsh: Our Man in The Heart of America Checking The Pulse Of The Nation. For a program list of the items included and all their accompanying links in this one hour show, you can find the information on my website in the Podcast section, or just follow this link to #0001.

It Was A Fun Ride While It Lasted

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 21:30:57 PDT

Well, it’s been just about a month since that dark day in early August when the radio show I had done for 20 years came to an end. It was a great ride. It’s also been since that time that I haven’t written any blog pieces, updated my Facebook status or tweeted. It’s been a self imposed communications blackout on my part.

The downside of such a blackout is that people start speculating as to what has happened to me. Have I turned into a hermit like Howard Hughes? Well in a nutshell, the answer is no. I have not been collecting my fingernail and toenail clippings or urine, I don’t wear Kleenex boxes as slippers and I have not started to collect an unusually high number of cats (and if you’ve read past blog posts you know the latter would never happen!)

It’s amazing that with today’s technology people seem to have less and less actual personal contact yet appear to be more connected with each other from a distance. I have no idea who my neighbours are and I couldn’t pick them out of a line up if my life depended on it, but people who are essentially total strangers are starting to hypothesize that I must be lying under a heap of vintage newspapers with mail piling up outside my door just because my Facebook hasn’t been updated over the last little while (I’m surprised some people didn’t start checking hospitals and morgues). Both my website and my blog had the highest traffic on them that they have ever had and again, that’s without me writing one word or changing a single pixel in a month!

Truth be told, there are two reasons as to why I haven’t been online for awhile. The “day of the long knives” was the first Wednesday of the month and the end of the week was supposed to be the beginning of my vacation. Little did I know that my employers wanted my vacation to start earlier and last a lot longer! So I decided that since I had a couple of weeks scheduled off that I would treat the time just the way I had initially planned and do nothing that had anything to do with, or involving work (or due to the current situation, looking for work).

The second reason was for me, due to some surprising turn of events. As mentioned, I have been inundated with emails, social network messages and phone calls in the last month and it’s been nearly impossible to respond to all of them (especially with the aforementioned self imposed exile already in place). The reaction to the article in the Montreal Gazette concerning my termination was overwhelming. As someone who was always more concerned about the show itself, as opposed to my own personal image, frankly the attention, while gratifying, is somewhat embarrassing.

And now that a month has passed, I still don’t have any answers to the questions that many have attempted to ask. What am I going to do in the future? I don’t know. Am I going to do another radio show? I don’t know. How do you get the Caramilk in the Caramilk bar? I don’t know.

What I do know is that I’m not going to rush into anything. I’m going to take some more time to continue to play online poker, watch daytime soaps and contemplate the future (I know, I know, there are some people out there who think this is worse than collecting your own urine!)

I know that I will still continue to search for the kind of stories that I used to share on the air regularly and write about here on occasion, so the blog will continue in one way or another (and I’m open to suggestions from you fine readers out there as to what the future could possibly bring, both online and elsewhere).

On another note, besides lamenting the demise of the radio show, many listeners expressed outrage at the sudden ending of the broadcast. While I do not agree with the termination itself, I do have to defend the station concerning the speed in which it was handled (oh, how I loathe to have to do this because after all, “boss” spelled backwards is “double-S-O-B”) .

People who do live radio do not and should not get a chance to say goodbye. With 50,000 watts of raw power on two radio stations beaming across all of eastern Canada, into three Border States and beyond, no broadcast outlet in their right mind would give a talk show host who is about to be shown the door a chance to vent their spleen. That would be tantamount to being let go from a major corporation in a major metropolitan area and right after they escort you to the curb of their shiny high rise at high noon, they hand you a bull horn.

As I said in the newspaper article (the link to which you can find above) broadcasters are like professional sports coaches – they are hired to be fired. And firing is all they can do. They can’t kill you. About the only thing I’ve been surprised about, as this whole situation unfolded, is just how other people who are in the business seemed to be . . . surprised! You’d think after seeing this type of thing happen time and time again, they’d realize, it’s just radio!

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.

The Death of Michael Jackson: Good Career Move

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 10:06:01 PDT

I am reminded of the day back in August 1977 when Elvis Presley died. It was said that an unnamed industry insider, upon hearing of the untimely death of the 42-year-old hip-shaker, was quoted as saying, “good career move.”

As history shows, truer words were never spoken. In the years since his death, Elvis has become wealthy beyond his wildest dreams. Too bad he’s not around to enjoy it. And in a world that is obsessed with lists, which follows closely behind the other obsessions of money, youth and thinness, it should be noted that Elvis regularly topped the list of room temperature money earners up until 2006 when Kurt Cobain became the top annual earner of cold, hard cash, while cold and hard himself.

Well, Cobain now has to look over his shoulder, not at the still top earning King of Rock & Roll who is at number two, but at the newly deceased King of Pop. Michael Jackson, who himself was quoted as saying many years ago that he didn’t think he would make it to 40, surpassed his own prognostication by a decade to make it just two months shy of his 51st birthday.

Jackson’s place in history is now secure. He already had the largest selling album of all time in Thriller, with very little chance of anyone coming close to catching it and now with his death you can surely tack on the several million more copies that will be flying off the shelves in the next little while.

Jackson was working hard for his upcoming farewell concerts in London – concerts that were a necessary comeback due to his alleged precarious financial situation. He had some major debts, creditors hunting after him like wild villagers with pitchforks and torches and an armada of lawyers who were always squelching the revolving door of lawsuits that seem to highlight his career. Plus his extravagant lifestyle did come with a cost.

Well now, it’s just simple Economics 101: Millions upon millions of dollars will now be coming in, and Michael won’t be around to spend them. No more wild shopping sprees, no more clothes for chimps, no more hyperbaric chambers, no more plastic surgery. Jackson’s death might just turn the economy around, and without a bailout! Everyone and their sister will probably try to cash in on Michael’s death (hey, I might make about a whole eight cents myself from blog traffic!)

And let’s not forget how prolific and talented Michael Jackson was. For everything he released, that turned to gold, there has got to be a plethora of material, in various stages of completion, that is locked away somewhere. If Tupac Shakur can somehow manage to crank out albums long after his last breath, just think about what the “Gloved One” could churn out.

Since his death Elvis Presley has spawned an entire industry of Elvis impersonators . . . oh, sorry . . . tribute artists, who have done quite well for themselves over the last 30 years. Well Jackson has had many impersonators while he was still breathing! Imagine how that’s going to mushroom now posthumously!

Something else that is secure will be our memories of Michael. As freakish as he may have become in the last few years, I would have to believe that it would have only gotten worse in the years to come. Michael Jackson would not have aged gracefully and youth is a virtue that is put on a pedestal in our society. Those who have died relatively young, Elvis Presley, John Lennon, Bob Marley, James Dean, Bruce Lee and even John F. Kennedy, have had their images enhanced because of an early demise. Their pictures never age. They are forever young.

Although we still think of Mohammad Ali as “The Greatest” and film footage and posters take us back to an earlier time of his power, you’d have to admit that there is a slight tarnish of his image only because of his more recent Parkinson’s-riddled appearances. How could this be the same man who was standing over Sonny Liston taunting him to get up?

Jackson no longer has the opportunity to continue to turn himself into a living version of a Salvador Dali painting (just what would the stats listed on a Michael Jackson driver’s license be anyway?) He kept altering himself like a tailor with ADHD. After years of being “under construction” we sadly now have the final product.

So let’s not say goodbye to Michael. He’s really not going anywhere, except onto the Forbes list of money making dead people. Let’s just hope that this tortured man with the Peter Pan complex will finally achieve the peace that clearly eluded him in life. Let’s enjoy his catalogue of existing music and listen with a jaded ear to what’s sure to be a vault-load of previously unreleased “Jackson classics” because as far as careers go, Michael Jackson has just hit the mother lode.

And finally, if you believe that there is a heaven, then just imagine what this week’s Tonight Show is like on the other side of the Pearly Gates. Ed is back with Johnny, Farrah’s on the couch and Michael is performing. What a show!

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.

Does Anyone Play Solitaire With Actual Cards?

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 22:42:14 PDT

As I am writing this, I am currently sitting in a doctor’s office waiting room for yet another appointment (I seem to be doing that a lot lately). As I look around the cramped outer office I am both comforted and disturbed by the fact that, as usual, I appear to be the youngest person waiting for the doctor.

I have my iPod and of course my laptop to pass the time away, but there is one serene older lady who when she sat down she simply opened her purse and pulled out knitting needles and proceeded to furiously knit away. I don’t know if she was knitting baby booties or a car cozy. All I know is that she was blissfully in her own world and with very little technology to do it.

It got me to thinking what a wait in a doctor’s office or airport would be like 30 or 40 years from now. Would people be content with simply reading a book or quietly knitting or would technology take over with everyone hooked up to a giant monolithic computer somewhere doing their own thing rapidly typing on keys and moving around a mouse, assuming we still have those archaic rodents by then.

It got me to thinking about the game of Solitaire. Is there anybody out there who actually plays Solitaire with a deck of cards? I’ll bet there are some people who don’t even know how to play the game with a deck of cards. I’ll bet there are some kids out there who don’t even know how to shuffle a deck of cards.

Something else that I noticed at the doctor’s office is that the receptionist had a city telephone book and the Yellow Pages by her desk. These are two back breaking tomes that are delivered annually to homes and offices everywhere. The growth in population has facilitated the increase in size of the phone books, while simultaneously shrinking down the font so that all the names and numbers can fit. This sadly coincides with my aging eyes which are now starting to have problems with the font, designed to make everything fit but is impossible to read.

Luckily for me, like so many people, the last time I cracked open a phone book was around the time that I played Solitaire with real cards. What’s the point? Everything that’s in the phone book is online, in a much easier to read fashion and, in most cases, more up-to-date than the dead tree version. It seems to me that each year all I seem to do is pick up the new phone books as they are dropped at my door with a thud, only to throw them out twelve months later just as pristine as they were upon arrival. It’s about time we put an end to these doorstops.

Still, there is one aspect of technology that I just don’t have use for. It seems that these days our urban society is obsessed with GPS units. It wasn’t that long ago that in the war between the sexes you could hear the battle cries of many an exasperated wife saying, “Why, don’t you just stop and get directions?” To which you would hear the male response of, “Why don’t you learn how to read a map, and for the love of God, can’t you fold it back properly?”

But technology has wrought upon us the GPS, the joy of every gadget freaked male. Problem is, some people are depending on their units way too much and forgetting the simple rules of common sense, such as look at the road in front of you. I have come across a myriad of stories recently of dimwits who insist on following their GPS instructions come hell or high water or cliff.

In the UK, while driving along a narrow, steep path in Todmorden, West Yorkshire, businessman and human lemming Robert Jones was anal-retentively following the instructions of his satellite navigation unit when it told him to turn down an offshoot road. End result? His BMW went down the path, smashed through a fence above a railway bridge, and dangled precipitously off of a sheer cliff.

Earlier this year in Bedford Hills, New York another auto lemming trusted the GPS in his rental so much that he apparently thought it was perfectly reasonable to follow the directions directly onto a set of train tracks. That didn't exactly work out so well, for his car or the oncoming train. It is sad to say that he wasn’t the last person to have his vehicle cubed on the exact same track. Another man followed his GPS onto the very same set of rails and, while he did get out in time to make a surely embarrassing 911 call, that apparently wasn't enough to prevent a commuter train from slamming into the car a few minutes later.

And back in the UK, drivers going through the village of Luckington have driven right into the river by following their navigation systems. This is despite all the warning signs that the bridge has been closed. The village has had to tow two cars a day on average.

Are we headed for a point when people won’t be able to make a move without a computer? It is important to remember how to drive on our own, to use our own common sense and to tax our brains enough so that they don’t shut off completely. We need to remember where the road ends; just as we need to remember how many cards make a deck. Because if we continue to abdicate from our minds behind the wheel, then we might as well just sit in the passenger seat and play Solitaire.

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.

Can You Really Trust Your Dentist?

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Fri, 26 Dec 2008 00:31:15 PST

A couple of posts ago I seemed to have struck a nerve talking about doctors and their waiting rooms. This time I am actually trying to hit a nerve, by talking about your friendly neighbourhood dentist.

For some reason, people seem to have a fear of going to the dentist. This is not a situation that I suffer with. Even though I’ve had more than my fair share of root canals, I think my saving grace is I have a high pain threshold. As a result most of my dental visits have been worry free.

My biggest concern seems to be that my dentist has the hairiest hands and the world’s biggest watch. The hair on his knuckles tickles the roof of my mouth and his time piece would look more appropriate on a chain around Flava Flav’s neck rather than on his wrist. I would be able to constantly tell the time, but since it’s only a couple of centimetres from my nose I tend to keep fogging it up.

My dentist also likes to play classical Musak while he’s drilling. This wouldn’t be too bad if it weren’t for the fact that he likes to join in with the arias, sharing his open-mouthed humming to the hit parade of the 18th Century.

No, if anything scares me about the dentist it’s the stories that I hear from other people or, worse yet, the stories that make it into the news. I always thought that evil dentists were the stuff of films. Sir Laurence Olivier did for dentists in Marathon Man, what Anthony Perkins did for showers in Psycho. I know more than a few people who imagine sitting in a dentist’s chair hearing a Teutonic accent ask them “is it safe?” At least you got a laugh with Steve Martin in Little Shop of Horrors but that’s cold comfort to many.

I guess if society has a fear of dentists, the biggest fear dentists have of society is that we’re not going to pay them. How else can you explain the actions of the two down-in-the-mouth guys in recent news stories?

In October, a 58-year-old patient accused the Rush Green Dental Practice in Romford, England, of injecting Novocain in preparation for an extraction but then refused to pull the tooth until he handed over an additional $50 in cash. The patient had to go home to get his ATM card, probably drooling all the way. He didn’t make it back until the Novocain had begun to wear off. I would like to know why someone would want to go back to such a dentist in the first place. I would be using the Yellow Pages, or a Ouija board – anything to choose another dentist then to go back to this clown.

Meanwhile, police in the Bavarian town of Neu-Ulm said they were investigating a dentist who allegedly barged into the home of a 35-year-old patient in September, tied her hands, forced her mouth open, and removed dentures worth the equivalent of about $500 because the woman’s insurance company declined to pay. Apparently, to use a bridge you must pay the toll first.

But the scariest of all dentists is from the Seattle area. I don’t know what is more frightening, the doctor himself or the naiveté of his patient. Thomas Laney, a dentist and oral surgeon, was able to remain licensed and in business despite unorthodox training; a controversial past, including ten lawsuits against him; and a reprimand in a patient's death. Well, he has been sued again, this time by a woman who said he botched a breast reduction on her three years ago when she was 15. Yes, you read right – a breast reduction!

Call me madcap, but I tend to draw the line with my dentist on anything concerning above or below the mouth. Sure, I give him latitude when working with the parameters that I’ve laid out, but anything that requires an unnatural adjustment of the chair is strictly off limits.

In the most recent complaint, the woman, now 18, saw Laney for a breast reduction in August 2005, but just recently filed a complaint in October in King County Superior Court.

The woman had been a high school athlete with disproportionately large breasts that hampered her ability to play sports, even when she wore three sports bras. According to her lawyer her breasts also caused neck and back pain, so it was not a cosmetic procedure, but a medically necessary one.

According to a plastic surgeon who supported the woman's complaint in court records, Laney lacked the training and education needed for the surgery. The surgeon wrote that Laney violated "the standard of care" by allegedly incorrectly marking the woman's breasts post-op and by placing her nipples "cross-eyed." The surgeon also wrote that Laney gave the woman deformed breasts and "railroad" scars, by allegedly leaving her sutures in too long.

Needless to say, this has left the unnamed patient very self-conscious about her body. She’s in college now, but according to her lawyer, she cannot live in a dorm with a shared bathroom and has never had a boyfriend.

Meanwhile, Laney, who is still practicing, said through his lawyer, Steve Fitzer, that the woman and her parents understood the potential risks of the surgery. "No doctor and no patient want complications," Fitzer said. "But the reasons you have elaborate and lengthy discussions, and sign elaborate consent forms, is because these complications are possible."

I don’t think I’m going out on a limb here when I say that I’m pretty certain there isn’t a form warning you that you could end up with “cross-eyed nipples.”

He said such forms were signed. He also said Laney no longer does cosmetic surgery, but did not know why. I could hazard a guess and come up with at least ten reasons why he’s not.

The patient’s lawyer countered that the consent was invalid, because the parents were not "fully informed" about Laney's training and experience. Laney was doing full-body cosmetic surgeries without having done a residency or fellowship in the subject.

Maybe I’m hasty in saying this, but the reality of life is when we go into a dentist’s office, rarely do we read the fine print on the sheep skin hanging up in his office. While I’m on the patient’s side in this one, having her lawyer state that the parents were not fully informed on the dentist’s training and experience is like saying America was ill prepared to vote for George Bush twice based on his record (perhaps that was a bad analogy).

On the other had, as with the issue of toddlers springing molars, rambunctious puppies, dirty old men and S&M roll players, teeth and breasts are rarely a winning combination.

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.

Oh Little Town Of Bethlehem

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Sat, 13 Dec 2008 20:58:04 PST

Back in 2002, when the birthplace of so many religions was under siege I felt compelled to put together an audio piece, trying to be as impartial as possible, not choosing any side.

You may remember the time in question. Israeli forces clashed with Palestinian fighters throughout the northern West Bank and launched air strikes in response to a Hezbollah missile attack across Israel's border with Lebanon, surrounding more than 100 armed Palestinians who were holed up in the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem.

I was moved by the story to create a montage of news with Mahalia Jackson’s Oh Little Town Of Bethlehem as the background from which I weaved the news clips through it.

I had forgotten about the audio but the odd thing about it was that even though I had not put up a page to connect to it, my version of the song was making its way around the Internet. So I thought I would put the link back up again for any and everyone to listen to it and draw their own thoughts and conclusions.

As I said, I tried to be as impartial as possible, and I think I succeeded, because at the time that I prepared it, and aired it on radio in both Montreal and Toronto, I got a lot of angry emails from people on both sides claiming that I was biased towards the other. Believe me, with the news clips that I had available, I made it as unbiased as I possibly could, but you decide. Make up your own mind. Here’s the link:

http://www.pubnix.net/~peterh/mahalia-2.mp3

By the way the three newsworthy voices you'll hear, besides the reporters and the people on the streets, are Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon, Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat and U.N. Secretary General Kofi Annan. Let me know what you think.

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.

The Doctor's Waiting Room

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 16:36:09 PST

So, it has been some time since I have written any blog entries. I apologize for my lack of creativity. I have been quite busy with my usual work schedule, plus there is the nagging issue of my convalescence and physiotherapy as I continue to recuperate from my recent quad surgery and relearn to walk again (it’s a slow process, but I’m doing fine, thanks for asking).

I usually write when I have a free moment or an imposed downtime and when the spirit moves me. There is no better downtime then waiting outside of a doctor’s office for your appointment as you listen to the second hand on the wall clock tick way past your initial appointment time.

Is there something written somewhere that if you have an appointment for, say, 2:30pm, you should prepare to bring a tooth brush? I’ve never been able to understand how one has to wait hours after their arrival to see a physician for an appointment that usually lasts just a few minutes. But I digress.

The waiting room at a doctor’s office is itself a little depressing. For one thing, it’s usually full of sick people. I think there is a correlation between the length of time you have to wait in the waiting room and the level of contagion the person beside you appears to have.

Right now I’m sitting beside a sniffling, sneezing woman as I type this. I have a longing desire for a polymer coating over my entire body, or at the very least a windshield wiper for my laptop screen.

Somewhere in the mix of patients is a woman (I’m guessing it’s a woman) who when she left the house this morning, failed to miss a pore when applying perfume.

Sitting across from me is a guy who is constantly grinning and making gestures to someone else in the room. At least I hope he is and it’s not some imaginary friend.

There is also senior citizen guy who actually has Hungry Like A Wolf as his ringtone. No, seriously. And his phone seems to ring about every ten minutes or so (remind me to do a blog entry one day on ringtones).

There’s a little old lady, who when standing is shaped like the letter “C” and who clearly predates electricity. She’s pacing slowly back and forth with a walker probably thinking that, like a shark, if she stops moving she might just die.

Then there is the receptionist. In an open concept waiting room this is a woman who probably learned to whisper in a saw mill. When she asks for your Medicare card and loudly clarifies she has the right name, she then proceeds to discuss whatever ails you at the volume level best used by carnival barkers. It’s oh so gratifying to share your afflictions with the rest of the room.

Once you have gotten past your initial embarrassment, you can then sit in the waiting room watching for future patients to walk in, and like a game show, try to guess what their ailment is before the carnie behind the desk starts up.

The excitement of this round of the game is only surpassed by the one-sided phone calls you get to hear from said receptionist. One can only imagine the little old lady on the other end of the line, clinging to her rotary phone, sitting there like Whistler’s mother trying to hear and comprehend what the receptionist is attempting to tell her. That can be the only explanation to the repetitive screaming that our carnival barker is now employing, cranking up her vocal volume with each repetition of the clinic’s address and operating hours.

Some people in the waiting room have come prepared. I’ve brought my laptop, others have brought copious amounts of reading material, and some have taken the opportunity to prepare their taxes. But there are those who have come unprepared; the ones who are forced to read old issues of Life Magazine and ponder the idea of how the music world will survive now that Elvis has been drafted into the army (I swear, there are publications in this waiting room that are fresh off the Gutenberg press). These are the people that I feel sorry for – the ones in waiting room purgatory, never knowing if they will make it to heaven or if this spot is their eternal damnation.

I, on the other hand, am content, knowing that I have cleared my entire schedule for this moment, brought sufficient provisions, and I can wait it out with the best of them – unless of course the battery on my laptop runs dry. If that happens, then I’ll have to flip though the magazines to find out how that Cuban missile crisis worked out.

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.

If Man Were Meant To Fly . . .

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Sat, 09 Aug 2008 00:02:59 PDT

While I don’t take to the friendly skies often, I do love to fly. I love most manner of flight. I’ve been on jets, small fixed wing, helicopters (which is my favourite) and even the Goodyear blimp (which is slow and majestic but it will ruin your hearing).

I have no problem with people learning how to fly. A few of my friends are licensed pilots and I have even taken the controls of an aircraft in the past. Most people who make the effort to learn how to fly are responsible individuals who have the utmost regard for safety and security, unless of course they are in a sleeper cell. The cost of learning to fly and the time involved usually weeds out the dunderheads who might otherwise soar into the clouds and then accidentally plummet into populated areas.

When the Wright Brothers took that maiden voyage at Kitty Hawk just after the turn of the last century it was a simpler time. They didn’t have to concern themselves with connecting flights, lost baggage or the type of liquids they were carrying. They just had a dream – to successfully sustain heavier-than-air human flight. From that day forward, every Tom, Dick & Harry thinks they too have a dream to leave terra firma on their own. Sometimes this frightens me. I recently came across a couple of stories to illustrate this harrowing trend.

Rev. Adelir Antonio de Carli was a 41-year-old Roman Catholic priest in Brazil. Back in April he came up with the bright idea that he could take off from the port city of Paranagua with the help of 1,000 helium-filled party balloons.

It was all for a good cause. He was hoping to raise money to build a rest stop and worship center for truckers. He had intended to fly to the city of Dourados but strong winds, or one could say the hand of God, swept him out to sea.

I often get this image of God looking down at this planet and shaking his head at times for some of the things we attempt to do. He has faith in most of us and I’m sure He has faith in his loyal soldiers, but every once in awhile along comes a Rev. Carli, floating on a lawn chair in the sky. I’m sure the good Lord said, “Rev, since you’re already aloft, perhaps you could come into the office for a word?” The flying father disappeared over the Atlantic back in April, but medical examiners said DNA tests confirmed body parts found floating off the coast of Rio de Janeiro state in early July belonged to the padre. 1,000 helium-filled party balloons should really be used for . . . parties.

Meanwhile, back in the United States Glenn Martin has a dream. He wants to make it possible for all of us to strap on a jet pack and soar into the heavens. This will make our commute to work faster, just as we all envisioned it on The Jetsons.

Martin demonstrated his contraption at a recent air show in Wisconsin. It weighs roughly 250lbs and is about the size of a piano. Actually, he strapped his 16-year old son into it, which in some way must contravene several child welfare laws.

As thousands looked on, Martin’s helmeted son, fastened himself to the prototype jet pack, revved the engine and hovered about three feet off the ground. With two spotters preventing the jet pack from drifting in a mild wind, (gee, the priest could have used these guys, but no, he chose faith) the younger Martin hovered for 45 seconds and then set the device down as the audience applauded. It was Kitty Hawk all over again.

In theory, the Martin jet pack can fly an average-sized pilot about 30 miles in 30 minutes on a full five-gallon tank. This is where I have a problem. As I mentioned earlier, there are some idiots who shouldn’t leave the ground. It’s sad enough that we let them leave the house, never mind letting them drive vehicles, or use heavy machinery.

With the high cost of fuel these days, we are constantly reminded of the stories of people who are trying to get that last drop of gas out of their cars. Our highways are littered with vehicles that have coasted to a halt because their drivers couldn’t properly gauge how much gas they had left. It’s one thing to coast to a stop. It’s another thing to literally fall short of your desired goal to get to work, clipping trees, power lines and the back of the heads of unsuspecting pedestrians.

If it were available today, the Martin jet pack would set you back $100,000 and is designed to conform to the FAA definition of an ultralight vehicle, weighing less than 254lbs and carrying only one passenger, meaning you won’t need a license to use this thing.

I don’t want people above me calculating the math, trying to figure out how much further they can get on five gallons. Starting with that first flight in 1903, leading up to today, flying is not meant to be in the control of everyone – it’s not necessarily for the masses. And speaking of mass, this contraption is for an average size pilot. Look around the United States. There are no average sized people left!

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.

With Friends Like These . . .

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Tue, 05 Aug 2008 16:07:38 PDT

I’ve been very lucky all my life with the friends that I’ve had. There are many childhood pals that I am still in contact with and I am very quick to state as an adult male that I have best friends. Sadly this is a statement that most men leave behind with their childhood. I could never understand why this is.

Women grow up saying, “I’m going out with my best friend,” or “I’m going out with my girlfriends,” but when a guy talks like this there always seems to be some question about sexuality involved. I don’t know why this is.

Well, as a heterosexual male I’m not only proud to say that I have best friends, but I am also very proud of my friends. I don’t know what I would do without them. At the top of the list is my friend Mario. He’s more than a friend, actually. I love the guy. It’s like having the kid brother I never had, especially since I grew up in an estrogen factory with four older sisters.

I defy anybody to find a better friend. I have already mentioned him in several blog entries, especially post knee surgery, with all the help that he has been to me above and beyond the call of duty (you can read the previous posts to find out more). I’ve even written about him in a newspaper article about when he taught me to snowboard more than a decade ago (you can see that story on my website by clicking here).

Friends support each other. They can be argumentative, but they should never be combative. True friends have your back and never put you in situations where they dare you to do something you shouldn’t or wouldn’t. True friends always have your best interests at heart. As comedian Dave Atell once said, “A friend will help you move. Best friends will help you move . . . a body!” Everybody should have friends like this, but I know that I am extremely lucky because I have such a friend and not everyone does.

As a matter of fact, I have a couple of stories that deal with people that perhaps you shouldn’t really call your friend. Two practical jokers are behind bars for setting their passed-out drinking buddy's crotch ablaze while boozing in Grover Beach, California recently (yes, another story with alcohol involved).

Matthew Craig Pillers and Jack Brent Nicholas Keiffer pleaded no contest to a felony great bodily injury charge. Elliot Tuleja was passed out when the men poured cologne on his groin and set him on fire on January 18^th. Hilarity ensued! Tuleja had second-degree burns on his testicles. Prosecutors say the 22-year-old Pillers, a parolee, was sentenced to two years in prison and the 19-year-old Keiffer got 45 days in San Luis Obispo County jail.

Maybe the idea is to stay away from parolees, but I can guarantee you that if I fall asleep in the presence of my friends, I don’t have to worry about waking up with dry roasted nuts!

I also try to stay away from people who can’t securely deal with a firearm. I’m not a fan of guns; have never fired one or handled one, but my friend Mario has. He is issued one and it comes with 48 bullets (he keeps reminding me of that count); 47 more than Barney Fife had. Mario is a police officer. He knows how to use weapons and he knows how to use handcuffs. These are vital talents to have on the job and possibly when dating.

I would never be around such irresponsible clowns as these guys. In Great Falls, Montana, Henry Haviland, 23, and Zachary Enloe, 20, were having a mock gun battle. They had unloaded their pistols – a 9mm and a .45 calibre – and were having “quick draw” contests at each other.

After they were done, they went their separate ways, but several hours later, they were in an apartment when Haviland “dry fired” his gun at Enloe again. Enloe dove for his pistol and turned and fired at Haviland – “forgetting” that he had loaded it back up in the meantime. Haviland was hospitalized in serious but stable condition with a gunshot wound to his face. Enloe was charged with felony criminal endangerment.

This was one of three such events reported in Great Falls in the past three months. A 17-year-old boy was shot in the leg and 18-year-old Kirk Jordan is facing felony charges in an almost identical incident. The bullet hit the victim's left leg and then went into his right foot.

In May, Airman Jonathon Higgins was accused of firing a shot that killed fellow Airman John Howry while the two were joking around at a party at a home near Great Falls High School. Higgins is charged with negligent homicide.

Meanwhile in mid-June, 24-year-old Brian Walsh was sentenced to 25 years in prison for pointing a gun at his friend's head and killing him in May 2007, though he said he thought the gun wasn't loaded at the time.

As the NRA would say, guns don’t kill people. Stupid people kill people. It’s wise to choose your friends carefully and to always be vigilant. I know I have chosen my friends carefully and Mario is the best. We’ve even talked about going on a trip together someday. That wouldn’t be a bad idea, because spending quality time with good friends is always a worthwhile adventure. But just to be on the safe side, I think I’ll say no to Montana.

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.

Cold Plague

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Tue, 05 Aug 2008 20:47:00 PDT

Okay, so it has been awhile since I had the chance to post here. I’ve been a little busy with work and all, plus there is still the matter of my convalescence from recent tendon surgery involving my right knee (it’s coming along slowly, but nicely, thanks for asking).

There are many things that I wanted to write about, but I think this time around I’ll just deal with water. I’m sure you’ve seen many news items of late telling us how much water we should be drinking. I’ve never been a big water drinker. At its best water is colourless, odourless and tasteless, which means I have no use for it. It’s never been a thirst quencher for me.

But as creatures made up mostly of water on a planet that is mostly covered with water, it might be understandable as to why we are preoccupied with the substance. With two thirds of the planet somewhat wet, we still send spacecrafts to other orbs in search of more water. We can’t seem to get enough of the stuff.

This brings me to Dr. Daniel Kalla. He is an emergency room physician in Vancouver who, when he’s not busy saving lives in his chosen profession, he’s scaring us to death with medical thrillers in his creative profession. His latest book, his fifth, is entitled Cold Plagueand, as you can guess by my preamble, it deals with water.

I’ve had the pleasure of interviewing Dan on several occasions on the radio and he’s always been an engaging and fun guest. His previous titles include Pandemic, Resistance, Rage Therapy and Blood Lies.

Let me pause for a moment to tell you a little secret about my interviewing style. When it comes to authors, I never read the book before conducting the interview. I find as a listener when I hear a conversation with two people who have travelled the same literary journey, I feel like someone who has entered a cocktail party and wandered over to a conversation that has already begun. I don’t know what’s being discussed.

I much prefer to engage an author in the discussion of their writing technique, their background and mostly their personality. An author without personality only writes technical manuals and they rarely get interviewed – or read.

Besides leaving the listeners in the dust, the other drawbacks I find to reading before talking is one of two reactions – either I loved the book and will gush profusely about the work, or I hated it and will have to feign interest (the latter is infinitely more difficult because in my mind I would be saying to myself that I’m only spending 20 minutes with this guy but reading his book took days off my life that I’ll never get back!)

Since I talk to a lot of authors, people think I get a lot of reading done. Sadly, that is not the case. I’ve already stated the reason why professionally, but also my schedule is so crammed with work for the nightly radio show and for the television show I host that I don’t get much recreationally reading done either.

But, Cold Plague is a book that I cleared a lot of my schedule for because I couldn’t wait to read it. If I had read Dan Kalla’s latest book before interviewing him it would have been a gush fest. That’s why I’m leaving the gushing to posting here on the blog.

Reading a medical thriller as I continue with my physiotherapy, being manipulated by torture specialists, might be considered ironic, but I found this book compelling. It deals with what could be considered the purest water ever found, hidden for millions of years, miles under the Antarctic ice.

Yes, it’s man’s preoccupation with water again. With water so pristine – untouched by human industrialization – just think of the natural healing powers it must contain; think how rich those who found it could be if it were marketed to the masses.

But is it a coincidence that this therapeutic water is being consumed during the same time as a cluster of new cases of mad cow disease in France? Is the human outbreak of the trifecta of rapid onset symptoms of Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s and schizophrenia somehow connected? And what does that mean for the rest of the world if we as a society can be done in by a simple water bottle? Those are some of the questions you’ll be asking yourself as you take the rollercoaster ride that is Cold Plague, along with the book’s hero, Dr. Noah Haldane of the World Health Organization.

Cold Plague has short, crisp chapters with the excitement building with each page turn. Without spoiling anything, I was halfway through the book, telling myself how much I enjoyed the pace, when I was suddenly rocketed into a different direction that I had not expected and I was now compelled to finish the book as fast as possible to find out what happened. I just couldn’t put it down. The sun was coming up, birds were chirping and I was still reading.

When I talked to Dan I asked him how he comes up with his thrillers. He said that as a doctor, he wrote what scares him. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to know what scares doctors but Cold Plague certainly has a chilling effect. As I said, I don’t drink water, but it got to me.

While I don’t usually like to pigeonhole books into reading seasons, I have to say that Cold Plague could be one of the ultimate reads of the summer. It’s perfect for a lazy day in the backyard, on the porch or even at the beach, when you’re relaxing on a deck chair enjoying nature and hydrating with some nice bottled water . . . on second thought, just enjoy the book, skip the water.

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.

Loin Fruit

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Sun, 01 Jun 2008 18:16:39 PDT

I’m a single guy and I don’t have any children. As time goes on it looks less and less likely that I will have offspring. This was not the game plan, just a matter of how the dice have rolled so far. I don’t have anything against children – on the contrary, I adore them and I am constantly surrounded by them as I have been an uncle since I was seven-years-old and those nieces and nephews now have children of their own.

I was the last of five children, so my parents certainly did their part during the post war baby boom. Back when I was a kid our family wasn’t necessarily considered large – on the contrary, in some corners of the Catholic bastion of Quebec our family might have been considered merely average or even small. By today’s standards, however, we would have been thought of as the freaks of the neighbourhood.

A soccer mom goes by in a minivan with three or more kids and tree huggers not only talk about the gas guzzler she’s driving but the oxygen her ankle biters are using up. This is not a view that I share. I say the more the merrier. If you have the means to take care of a massive amount of loin fruit then more power to you.

So it is with great amusement that I see the reaction of the media and some in the general population when conversation focuses on the Duggar family of Arkansas. In case you haven’t heard, it’s just been announced that Michelle Duggar is pregnant – again. And when I say again, I really mean again! She announced, just around Mother’s Day, that she is about to have her 18^th child.

The latest edition of the family will be joining seven sisters and ten brothers sometime around New Year’s Day, and I don’t think I’m going out on a limb here when I guess that the newest Duggar will have a first name that starts with the letter “J.” I am confident in making this prognostication because all of its siblings have names starting with “J.”

Let’s go through the roll call. It starts with 20-year-old Josh and ends with nine-month old Jennifer. In between are Jana, 18; John-David, 18; Jill, 16; Jessa, 15; Jinger, 14; Joseph, 13; Josiah, 11; Joy-Anna, 10; Jeremiah, 9; Jedidiah, 9; Jason, 7; James, 6; Justin, 5; Jackson, 3; and Johannah, 2.

As you can surmise by their ages, a few of these kids showed up in tandem, but for the most part we are talking single births here. As Joy Behar from The View was quoted as saying when Michelle was due with number 17, “The woman must have graffiti on her uterus.” When I think of Michelle, however, I get the image of the clown car at the circus and in my head I can actually hear that calliope music.

Not only can the Duggars now field two complete baseball teams, Michelle and her husband Jim Bob say they plan to keep having children as long as God wills it. At the age of 41 Michelle still has a few child bearing years left. Think about this startling fact; this woman has been pregnant eleven years of her life! I think it’s also fair to say that she and Jim Bob enjoy sex and are apparently quite good at it. Clearly they are not into birth control because at this point simple pantyhose could be a contraceptive.

Some people are saying that this has to stop, that Michelle should put a cork in or that Jim Bob should have his swimmers taken away from the diving board. But as I see this well-oiled machine of the Arkansas family in their 7,000-square-foot home, where all their children are home-schooled, all I can think of is if it works for them – the children seem to be well adjusted and cared for, and nobody is left out – then what’s the problem? (By the way, you can watch a lot about the Duggar family as they prepare to film another television series for Discovery Health).

If you don’t want to have 18 children, that’s your choice. But if you want to have a boatload of kids and you can find someone who will go along for the ride, then more power to you. However, I am reminded of the joke that comedian Tom Dressen has on his CD entitled That White Boy's Crazy:

In the Guinness Book of Records the woman who has the most children was from Harvey, Illinois. My Mom knew her very well. She was married. Her and her first husband had 11 children and then he died. She married again and had seven more children. Again, her husband died. Again she remarried and this time had five more children. Alas, she finally died. We went to the funeral and as they were lowering her into the ground my mother said, “Well, they’re finally together.” I said, “Her and her first husband?” and she said, “No, her legs!”

On the other side of the scale, I would like to share a story that deals with a sperm bank. There are all kinds of bank robberies, but this one is different. A lab technician who allegedly tried to make a quick buck by stealing samples from the sperm bank where he worked has been arrested after a doctor tipped off police.

The employee allegedly stole the sperm and tried to sell 101 vials of it to a doctor for about $625. The doctor declined and called police, who arrested the lab employee and a relative. According to a police spokesman, “The doctor contacted police because they usually refer patients to infertility clinics for treatment. They are never approached with sperm vials on sale.”

Meanwhile an infertility expert described the alleged theft as "bizarre" because vials that are not properly labelled would be, “worse than useless. Anyone would have a hard time selling sperm vials. They must be stored in a liquid nitrogen container. It doesn't make any sense.”

Police said the two men will be charged with stealing and cheating, and each could face up to seven years in prison if convicted.

What I find utterly fascinating about this story is that the sperm bank in question is located in Mumbai, India. It is one of ten sperm banks in the country. So here’s my question. Why does a country with 1.13 billion people need a sperm bank? They seem to have been doing quite well without them.

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.

From Crime To Crime

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Thu, 29 May 2008 01:13:00 PDT

This is the week that I have started physiotherapy to rehabilitate my knee after my recent surgery. I have had to endure this procedure before at the hands of therapists who no doubt would have worked for the Nazis in the 40s. As I grimace through the contortions while they manipulate my limb (ironically, it was an unplanned contortion that got me in this mess in the first place) I take little solace in the fact that I can read while they torture me.

The reading I have chosen to undertake at this time is an excellent collection of short stories written by Dennis Palumbo entitled From Crime to Crime: Mind-Boggling Tales of Mystery and Murder.

I would like to think it was sheer coincidence that I would read such a tome while plotting my revenge on those all too willing to cause me pain. The truth of the matter is I have been eager to read this book for some time.

Dennis Palumbo was recently a guest on our radio show on a couple of occasions; an interesting gentleman who has had more than one interesting career. Formerly, he was a Hollywood screenwriter, working on such television shows as Welcome Back Kotter. He also penned one of my favourite movies of all time, My Favorite Year (a DVD I will now make the point of picking up).

Dennis gave that all up to become a psychotherapist in Hollywood, a profession in a town where there is no shortage of patients. But he hasn’t given up writing completely, thus his latest collection of short stories.

If you are a fan of the old “drawing room mysteries” then you’ll love this collection. There are twelve stories in the book, but the first nine deal with the same core characters; a group of friends who call themselves “The Smart Guys Marching Society,” a collection of amateur sleuths who resemble the author and his closest friends.

There is a therapist, an actor, a journalist and a lawyer, plus rounding out the group is Isaac, an older pseudo relative of the therapist’s wife who has joined the group that meets every Sunday at the therapist’s house for food, guy talk and the solving of the occasional mystery.

Let me throw out a hackneyed term that many use when reviewing a great book. This book is a true page turner! There were times when I had other things that I needed to do yet I found myself saying, “Just let me read one more story!” I honestly couldn’t put it down.

All of the clues for the stories are laid out for you to try and figure out the crime. I felt quite superior when I figured out the “who” in the first story, even though I didn’t get the “how,” and of course I then proceeded to go 0-for-the-rest-of-the-book! Still, it was an enjoyable read all the way through and I even laughed out loud a couple of times, which really confounded my physiotherapist.

As I mentioned, the last three stories have nothing to do with “The Smart Guys Marching Society.” While I did enjoy them, especially one dealing with a young Albert Einstein, I found myself wanting to read more of the exploits of the crime solving quintet, whom I began to think of as real friends that I got to know. Without giving anything away, I think my favourite story was one that dealt with a lovely young lady, a truly unique and bizarre crime and a yacht. That’s all I will say.

Since most of the stories had food involved, I will liken this book to a great restaurant meal. You have the first nine stories which are akin to your main course. After enjoying the experience you then find yourself with a handful of delectable mints which themselves are quite enjoyable, but they don’t take away from your enjoyment of the meal. It’s a restaurant that one anticipates they get invited back to for another meal soon.

I hope there will be more of “The Smart Guys Marching Society” in the future. Heck, I’d even kill to get more stories out of them and right now I’m thinking that physiotherapist would make a pretty good looking corpse.

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.

Evolution of Man

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Sun, 25 May 2008 10:05:25 PDT

For those of you wondering how my convalescence is coming along after my recent knee surgery, while I have not yet begun physiotherapy, I have reached the point where I can put weight on my leg while still using crutches.

Needless to say this has slowed down my pace considerably as I hobble about like an old man. You’ve no doubt seen these senior citizens. As you watch them, hunched over, moving with a slow gait, you can’t help but wonder if they are suffering from some sort of arthritis or they just don’t know that suspenders are adjustable. (For the record, I have now reached the third evolutionary level when it comes to my current walking style - see accompanying evolutionary picture).

This long period of down time has me wondering about the marvels of the human body and the evolution of man in general. The Stuph File on the radio is often filled with people who have not yet seemed to have fully evolved; people who want to be at one with animals or folks who can’t use reasoning rather than violence to get their point across. As they say on Law and Order, these are their stories.

Let’s start with the violent guy. As children, we are taught to share. It is part of our own personal evolution when we learn that we can’t have everything we want. Yet as we age, there seems to be a point where we start to devolve. We’ve all heard the stories about, if not personally met the crotchety old men who don’t have time for manners, say what they want and are just plain miserable. But rarely does it lead to violence over cake!

An Italian pensioner ended up in hospital after a fight with another man over who would get the last piece of cake at an all-you-can-eat buffet. As 70-year-old Niccolo Bruno grabbed the cake a second pensioner, 62-year-old Alfredo Mancini, stabbed his knife into the unfortunate Bruno at the food counter of a restaurant in Novate Milanese, northern Italy.

Mancini who then tried to hobble out of the store on a walking stick was arrested by a pair of off-duty police and is facing jail on charges of bodily harm. Bruno was taken to hospital but later released after doctors treated the stab wound. It is not known who actually got the last piece of cake, but I’m sure many are now asking for the recipe because that would have to be really good cake!

Okay, let’s move on to our animal loving friends. The next story comes from Moorestown, New Jersey where police officer Robert Melia Jr. was arrested at his own police station for numerous charges of sexual abuse of three underage girls. Also charged in the case was Melia’s girlfriend Heather Lewis.

The 38-year-old was not only in violation of the law because of his dalliance with youngsters; he was in trouble because he couldn’t stop there. This case went from merely sick to truly bizarre because Robert was also charged with four counts of sexual abuse of a cow (and no, we’re not talking about Heather), or as the indictment put it, “specifically by having a cow perform fellatio upon him.”

Let your imagination wonder a little bit on this. One would have to imagine that this form of bovine bestiality cannot be done randomly. Even if you’re in a barn naked a cow isn’t going to just meander over and vacuum out your crotch. Some sort of enticement, perhaps a salt lick, would have to be applied. In other words a lot of thought went into this and that’s the part that frightens me the most. What the heck is going through the mind of this police officer that it has come to this and how does his girlfriend feel about being runner up to a bunch of teenagers and ol’ Bessie? It’s just “udderly” ridiculous!

The final story makes me wonder if we really have evolved enough from the apes. Sometimes we can’t seem to get away from them. An Orlando, Florida woman couldn't believe it when she noticed the man next to her on her flight was hiding a monkey. He snuck it on the plane at Orlando International Airport.

Picture yourself in poor Mikie Mallory’s place. She boards the flight and sits down next to a guy that has what looks like a fanny pack on around his waist, only this one has a larger pouch. As she described it, “He opened it up and was playing with something and I look over at him and I see this hair. And he says, ‘It's my pet monkey.’ And I'm thinking, oh, no it's not!”

Mallory informed flight attendants and the man and his monkey were quickly removed from the Cleveland-bound Continental flight, which was still at the gate, but not before the incident raised questions about how a man smuggles a monkey onto an airplane. “Whether the monkey came through security overtly or covertly, the monkey was screened,” said a Transportation and Security Administration spokesperson. The TSA said it's not illegal to bring pets through security and whether they board a plane is between the passenger and the airline. Continental clearly did not know about the monkey.

Let me see if I’ve got this straight. I have to practically go through a strip search, check my shoes for bombs, lose all hand creams, hair gel, body wash and bottled water, but some guy can get on board with a monkey! And apparently this isn’t a crime! Pets can go through security checkpoints and passengers carry pets through security all the time. This case is more a matter of the man violating Continental Airlines' policies and possibly putting passengers in danger, but he's facing no criminal charges. Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. But hey, we are evolving . . . slowly!

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.

Know Your Body Parts

peter@peteranthonyholder.com (Peter Anthony Holder) — Sun, 18 May 2008 21:06:49 PDT

How well do you know your mate? Admittedly, I’m a single guy, but if I were in a relationship I think I would know almost everything there is to know physically about my better half (mentally would be a different situation, you never really know someone else’s mind completely).

But there have been a couple of stories in the news lately that has me rethinking the idea of spousal knowledge. The first story comes to us from Malaysia. A Malaysian woman woke up to a real-life nightmare, discovering that the naked man who had slipped into her bed in the middle of the night was a thief, not her husband.

How bold was this thief, you ask? Well, according to a police report filed in the eastern state of Terengganu, the 36-year-old housewife was asleep when the thief, noticing that her husband was fast asleep on the couch, quietly stripped off and lay down beside her. Lord only knows what his motive for doing this was, but I can’t imagine sneaking into some guy’s house, while he’s there, and lying down naked next to his wife! At the very least I would be thinking of the beat-down that was coming my way if I were caught and I’ve always been very cognisant of one of the many guy rules that are etched in stone which is “don’t get into a fight when you’re naked.” It’s on the list right after “no talking at the urinal.”

The dozing woman's suspicions were raised when she spoke to him and his voice sounded strange. She then went to another room and found her husband fast asleep on the couch. That's when she screamed, causing the thief to flee by leaping out the window together with the items he was stealing. One can assume that he also took his clothes with him.

Okay, perhaps I can give the woman the benefit of the doubt in this one. I’m guessing that it was probably dark in the room when the thief hopped into bed, but still, except in bedroom farce comedies, rarely does a stranger get into your bed and you think it’s your mate.

I question the thief more for the obvious reasons I mentioned earlier and also for the fact that in the middle of a robbery he decided it would be a good time to take a nap in someone else’s bed. Even Goldilocks had the good sense to use the bears' house while they were out!

But this is just one case of mistaken identity with someone you should know. There is another recent story that comes to mind, this one from New Mexico.

20-year-old Amanda Moya was at her boyfriend’s Albuquerque home late last month. It was 10:30 on a Wednesday morning and they were watching porn together. Gee, what a romantic way to start off “hump day.” Usually, I’m thinking about breakfast at that time but some people have different priorities.

Anyway, they’re getting into the film when all of a sudden Amanda is livid because she believes that one of the actors on the screen is actually her boyfriend. Does she stop to ask him if he’s ever done porn? No, she just starts chasing him around the house with a knife.

The victim, whose name was not released, said to the 911 operator, “She almost shanked me and everything. She put the knife right under my throat.” The boyfriend, wearing only a pair of shorts, ran outside and down the road, still talking to the emergency service operator on his mobile phone. He said Moya had already stabbed him in the face and bitten him on his chest. The dispatcher told the victim to keep running and try to get inside a store. He finally managed to flag down a deputy who was responding to his distress call.

Deputies arrested the Glenn Close wannabe and charged her with aggravated assault and aggravated battery. As if this wasn’t enough it gets even more bizarre. She was also charged with child abuse because deputies say she left her eight-month-old boy alone in the home while she chased her boyfriend down the road. And the couple shouldn’t have been near each other. The boyfriend was quoted as saying, “She already has a battery of charges against her. She’s not even supposed to be around me.”

In case I haven’t stated the obvious point, no, it wasn’t the boyfriend in the movie. She just couldn’t tell the difference between her boyfriend and a porn star. This is probably something that the boyfriend will now be bragging about for years to come. Still, if you can’t recognize someone you have been intimate with then you’ve probably only been intimate with them by the hour.

And while we’re on the topic of professionals, the news out of Amsterdam, where prostitution was legalized in 2000, is always fun. Clients in the Netherlands of the world’s second oldest profession may soon need to check for a sex licence. (Yes, I know what you’re thinking, but it is the world’s second oldest profession. The world’s oldest profession is farming. Remember, before, after and sometimes even during sex, a guy’s thinking about food. It’s only when he’s eating that he’s only thinking about sex.)

The Dutch cabinet said it wanted to crack down harder on the country's sex industry, in particular unlicensed sex operators, as part of efforts to combat human trafficking. According to a government statement, "That is why the cabinet wants to make it an offence to use the services of a sex operator without a licence or a non-registered independent prostitute."

I can only imagine what is involved in getting a sex license. Is it like getting a driver’s license? Is there a written test and a road test? What do you have to do to earn a learner’s permit? Perhaps it’s just a simple case of knowing all the right body parts.

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it