Dick Summer
Connection

A last minute Email came pouring in from Proud PodCast Participant and former radio colleague Jack Marshall. He says, “Here’s another how come…when people say yessiree bob…who is this guy Bob?” I don’t know for sure, Jack, but I think he’s one of those Palindrome brothers.

Happy Anniversary to us. This is the start of the third year for the “Connection” blog and the “Good Night” PodCast. So I’ve been trying to figure out what kind of anniversary present I can give you. How’s this: If you’ll send me your name and address- Dick@DickSummer.com  I’ll send you the top five most downloaded “Good Night” PodCasts on a cd. No strings. No promotions. Not going to try to sell you anything. Would just like to say, “Thanks.”To jog your memory, here are the PodCasts you’ll be receiving:

P. P. Participant John from Massachusetts listens to the “Good Night” podcast on WCAP radio in Lowell…and he’s talking about the time I told you about wanting to be a voice in the middle of the night when I was on the air. John says a big thing in a short sentence: “I listened to you on the radio. Thanks for all the memories of radio when it was our friend.” And thank YOU John.

But here’s my favorite…it comes from “KrissyGirl.” She says, “I’m a college student, and I want to tell you that your podcast voice in the middle of the night has made me feel safe, and relaxed and beautiful…no matter how stressed out and horrible I was feeling before I listened. PS…I really wish I could meet a Louie Louie Generation guy in my own generation. I think that would be wonderful.”

Kris, Big Louie, his own bad self has always said that membership in the Louie Louie Generation isn’t only based on age. It’s also a matter of putting some sweat and spark and smile in your life. So on that basis, I hereby proclaim to all and sundry that KrissyGirl is now an honorary member of the Louie Louie Generation.

That got me thinking about what makes a Louie-Louie generation guy the bedmate of choice for so many supermodels, and other beautiful and successful women. I’ve told you that it’s our gentlemanly charm, our poise and grace, and the fact that some of us have a little money. But let me give some of you young guys the top 20 list of specific things you can do to help you in your struggle to achieve full fledged Louie-Louie Guy hood.

#20- If you’re going to wear a baseball cap, unless you are an actual catcher in full uniform and the game is still going on, wear your cap peak front like a human. #19 - Unless you have religious reasons for wearing your cap indoors, take it off when you walk into a restaurant with a lady. #18- You don’t necessarily have to wear a jacket and tie, but don’t show up looking like either Barney Rubble or an Elton John impersonator who was left out in the rain overnight. #17 And speaking of adornment, earrings look lovely on the ladies. Especially the dangle ones. But earrings just make you look like the Pirates of the Carribean just voted you off the island. #16- When a lady trusts you enough to grace your presence in a car, open the door for her and help her in. #15 - Then when you get where you’re going, reverse the process. Jump out of the driver’s seat, open the door and help her out. Be ready to catch her if she faints with the shock. #14- When you’re on a date, do not take cell phone calls. And do not make outgoing cell phone calls either. Some guys think that makes them look important. It doesn’t. It makes them look like an idiot. #13- Ditch your favorite lines, lies and general B.S. Ladies are smart, and honesty is a lady turn on. #12 Read a paper or magazine that has nothing to do with your favorite sports team so you have something that has nothing to do with spikes, sneakers or cleats to talk about with her. #11 - Brush your teeth. Or if you are a hockey goalie…be sure your teeth are properly installed and turned in the right direction. #10- Take a shower and change your socks and underwear. Contrary to what your buddies may tell you, sweat is not a turn on to most ladies. #9- One or two beers is probably ok. More than that and you are over the lady limit. # 8 Show up for the date on time according to whatever actual time zone you were in when you made the date. #7- Shut up and listen to what the lady is saying. Try to understand not only the words but how she feels about what she’s telling you. If she’s upset because her cat died, even if you’re kinda glad because the damn cat was a drag…she’s not glad. So be genuinely not glad with her. #6- You won’t understand everything she says, but the key words here are listen, feel and genuine. #5- When out with a lady, keep your fingers and your eyes off other hotties. #4 - Do not sit in your car and blow your horn for her. Ring the bell, smile, and escort her to the car. #3- Bring her some small surprise. Doesn’t have to be a dozen roses…a dandelion you picked from the lawn is fine. #2 - She has done something to make herself look especially pretty for you. Figure out what it is and compliment her on it. #1- Always protect her. Job number one. Make her feel safe, and relaxed, and beautiful.

Do these things. Make Big Louie proud.

Dick’s Details Quiz - All answers are available in the current podcast at www.dicksummer.com

1- What do you have to watch out for on your date’s personal person?

2- If more Americans went to a dentist, what would we call a tooth brush?

3- What parts of some folks might last for 50,000 years ?

Scoring:

3- right - A Louie-Louie Generation Charmer.

2- right - A rock star.

1- right - A movie star.

0- right - Mickey Mouse.

There’s a story in the Night Connections Personal Audio cd about a Louie-Louie generation guy who overcomes the natural shortcomings of his guy-hood to make his lady glad she picked him over some pretty stiff competition. It’s called a Disorganized Husband. If you like, you can just listen to it on the current podcast…or if you want a fresh copy, just go to dicksummer dot com, and download it from the cdbaby icon.

Here’s one more question that’s been bothering me. If you know the answer, please drop me an email at dick at dick summer dot com. Howcome…if there’s a receptionist…why isn’t there a rejectionist. Huh? Tell me. Send me an email at Dick@DickSummer.com . Would love to hear from you.

Come to think about it, I have a question for you: how come some people will be offended by what I just said about Mother Nature dancing in a sexy bikini? I honestly have no idea. Anybody who thinks mammas can’t look nice dancing in sexy bikinis hasn’t seen Catherine Zeta Jones, Sophia Loren, and my Lady Wonder Wench. Maybe my problem is that as a proud member of the Louie-Louie Generation, I can’t forget the words of Big Louie, his own bad self, when he said…”If the Lord had approved of nudity, we’d all have been born naked.” I guess my brain has become my Achilles heel.

How come people in a country that makes money that says “In God we trust” feel they need to “accuse” Senator Obama of being a member of the Muslim faith… but at the same time, he’s supposedly under too much influence of a whacko pastor who’s Christian? That makes as much sense to me as accusing Senator Clinton of showing too much cleavage. I don’t think you can ever show too much cleavage. And how about knocking Senator McCain because he has a record of actually working together with democrats to get something done? That’s way too complicated for me.

I’m still trying to figure out why every time I blow my nose, I always want to check the kleenex for the results. And why aren’t the people in very old black and white family pictures ever smiling…and why doesn’t glue get stuck in the bottle…and what’s the difference between a blouse and a shirt…and how come women button some shirts up the back…and while we’re at it…what’s with those bra hooks?

The electric company here isn’t allowed to raise their rates for another two years. So now there’s a new item on the bill that they call a “transition charge”…which will be added to each bill for the next two years. Huh? Why do some women kick one foot up when they kiss? When you change the oil in your car engine, where does the old oil go? What’s the connection between concentrating and sticking your tongue out? Huh? I don’t know, either.

Dick’s Details Quiz - All answers are in the current PodCast at www.DickSummer.com .

1- Although sex is obviously a mutual activity, what excessive masculine trait keeps men from offering to “pay” a woman with sex?

2- What do 59% of men do in bed that women seem to totally ignore?

3- When does a little mystery in a romance go too far?

Scoring:

3 - right - Einstein.

2 - right - Wilbur/Orville Wright.

1 - right - The guy who invented the Hefty Bag.

0 - right - A guy who can’t figure out how to open a Hefty Bag.

So, how come we can’t tickle ourselves? What’s the difference between a street sign that says no outlet and one that says dead end? Why do dogs love to put their heads out the window of your car when you’re moving, but really hate it if you blow into their ears? When you send a letter from one country to another, which country gets paid for delivering it? All good questions, for which I have no answers. If you have any questions to confuse me further…or you just want to complain bitterly…or you want to send money…my E-mail is Dick@DickSummer.com  

Guess I’ll never figure out what God is all about. I think if I ever really figured out what my Lady Wonder Wench is all about…I wouldn’t believe it anyway, so what’s the use? I don’t know…maybe some questions don’t really have an answer. And maybe some answers… don’t need to be questioned.

Next time…the story of a lady called ”KrissyGirl.”

I grew up in Brooklyn. For a New Yorker, a trip from Brooklyn to Manhattan is called, “a trip to the city.” When I “went to the city” as a kid, I used to look at those sky scrapers in Manhattan, and it seemed to me like they must have erupted like volcanos from the concrete… probably pushed up by the power of the subways as they roared along under the streets.

There are 14 million people in New York…and on a good day all of them are trying to cross the same street at the same time…and they’re all hustling because they’re late for work. You’ve gotta keep moving…24/7… when you live in New York. It’s a constant clang, pound and push…all day and all night. It’s exciting. But it wears on you. And after a while it can be a little frightening.

I used to hide my radio under the pillow late at night. That’s how I listened to William B. Williams on WNEW in New York. Willie always started his show by saying…”Hello, world.” He was welcoming you to his fantasy world, where he would keep you safe and smiling, and comfortable.

His voice made me feel like we were buddies. He’d tell a couple of jokes…and he’d kinda give me a friendly punch in the shoulder… and sometimes throw me a knowing wink when he talked to the girls we both knew were listening. Willie is gone now. And so is that kind of radio. I call it “Fantasy Radio.” I miss it.

I got to be a late night voice on the radio…even got to work with Willie and some of the other giants who lived in that little transistor box. And I think it’s a shame that we now have a couple of generations of kids who have never heard that kind of radio.

I don’t want to sound wrinkled and old beyond recognition…because getting wrinkled was not one of the fantasies I had when I was a kid. But I think if you’re a member of the Louie-Louie Generation…and you remember the Lone Ranger, and black and white tv, and bb guns…you’ll understand what I mean. And if you’ve been listening to the PodCast that goes with this blog for a while, you’ll know that no matter how many birthday cakes you’ve sliced, you’re a member of the Louie-Louie Generation if a lot of your conversations these days includes words like “prostate,” “ouch,” “vitamin E,” “stress,” “diet,” and “what…what did you say?”

Look…wrinkles may be sneaking up on us Louie-Louie Generation people, but contrary to what the pimple people think, our biggest concern is not getting our teeth stuck in each other’s wrinkles…our vital juices have not all turned to prune…and many of us are still looking forward to the disorderly, vigorous, and entirely disreputable remainder of our lives. And those of us who are still in love clearly understand the difference between a relationship and a romance. And the rest of us are well aware that although sex without love is a meaningless experience… as meaningless experiences go…it’s one of your better ones.

Louie-Louie guys are the bed mates of choice for super models, porn stars, and beautiful young 22 year olds because of our worldly charm, our courtly manners, and the fact that some of us have a little money. We’re experienced. We know enough to tie up and blindfold the dog in times of… physical tenderness. Louie-Louie ladies also have their lives under control. They realize that if things don’t go well in a tender moment, it’s best to wait till your partner leaves to put in an emergency call to somebody better. And perhaps most important…Louie-Louie Generation people have learned to trust the words of Big Louie…his own bad self…when he says, “the more seriously you take yourself, the more foolish you look.”

Dick’s Details Quiz - All answers are in the current PodCast at www.dicksummer.com

1- What unusual thing did the Perdue University Marching Band do right on the field after drinking lots of beer?

2- What very physical thing do lots of people do in their showers?

3- What one word in the English language makes me sick?

Scoring:

3 right - I Love New York

2 right - Chicago’s My Home Town

1-right - Moonlight In Miami

0-right - El Paso

An email came pouring in to Dick@DickSummer.com  from proud PodCast participant Tom the Hugger about last week’s PodCast. He says in part…”When I went to catholic school dances, the nuns and priests used to discourage dancing real close by tapping us on the shoulder and telling us to leave room for the Holy Ghost. This led me to think of the Holy Ghost as some kind of perv for wanting to dance between me and my girl. Of course, even I was smart enough by then not to mention that to Sister Mary Knuckle Buster.” Another note… this time from proud PodCast participant Dick B, who says, “I like your PodCasts because they make me think back to when times were slower…or maybe we just didn’t have as many responsibilities.” Thanks, Dick. The email address is Dick@DickSummer.com .

But I digress. Back to the point. It’s fantasies that keep Louie-Louie people from becoming cynics. Cynics don’t believe in fantasies. They’re always looking for a sure thing. There’s always at least a touch of “maybe” in every fantasy. And cynics don’t like anything but sure things. Cynics are chicken. And chickens aren’t sexy. Fantasies are sexy…wearing lingerie instead of underwear…the pretty girl turning the frog into a prince and living happily ever after…the guy on the white horse swooping down to rescue the fair maiden from a fate worse than death. I like fantasies like that.

So that’s why I do the PodCasts. I love the power of the fantasies that a voice on the radio can create late at night. But Fantasy Radio is gone…and I don’t think it will ever be back. So when you tell me that the PodCasts make you feel comfortable…and safe…and beautiful… and connected…thank you…from that long ago Brooklyn kid…with the fantasy that never went away.

I probably could have found myself if I had a little more time. But there’s not much time in New York. That’s what makes lots of people think New Yorkers are rude. Actually, New Yorkers are just in a hurry. Gotta hustle when there are 14 million people behind you trying to get across the same street. There’s no time to waste when you’re in New York. That’s the reason that most of what New Yorkers have to say can be summed up with one finger.

There’s actually a New York language. If someone says he’ll meet you “at his crib,” he means at his apartment, not his bed. A “Home Boy” is your best friend. A “freak” is your girlfriend. A “throw down” is a fight. And your clothes are called your “gear.”

I got to work with some pretty special guys in New York…guys like Wolfman Jack. Actually…there never was and never will be anybody like Wolfie. And, yes…that’s what he liked the other guys at WNBC to call him…Wolfie. Bob Smith was his real name. He was a Brooklyn boy too…so we had that in common. Wolfie was a comic book character with a huge heart. The screaming and “wolfin” while the mic was open was his act. But he was just Bob Smith from Brooklyn when the music was playing. He’d just kinda sing along, and ruffle through his liner cards during the songs.

I used to bring my Lady Wonder Wench with me to the station pretty often. And she remembers him very fondly. She says “he was very comfortable.” I’d say the same thing. He was a very comfortable guy.

That’s not to say that he didn’t know how to howl when the moon was full. As a matter of fact, the phase of the moon didn’t have much to do with it when the music got to Wolfie. Black music, especially. Race music was what they called it before the great Alan Freed made it mainstream. Wolfie was a black man in white skin…a white man who could definitely jump. And nothing was safe from getting knocked over in the studio when Wolfie was up and jumping.

But sometimes…after he had been naughty…things were kinda quiet while the records were playing. I mentioned liner cards, and those of you in the radio business probably thought that was a mistake. But it wasn’t. Liner cards usually have station slogans written on them that the program director wants the guy on the air to read at certain times during the hour. Boring stuff like, “More music, less talk.” Wolfie’s liner cards were different. He used them to remember what he called his “statements to my honeys.” They were sometimes jokes… sometimes quick snippets of Jonathan Livingston Seagull-type philosophy…and sometimes just barely disguised pick up lines. Sometimes the words didn’t really make much sense at all…except when Wolfie was saying them.

WNBC hired Wolfie to compete with Cousin Brucie on WABC. The WNBC promotion department took a series of ads in the paper featuring tombstones with “Brucie’s” name on them…and captions that said something to the effect that “Wolfie is here and Brucie’s time has come.” That never happened. And ironically, when Wolfie left WNBC, “Cousin Brucie” came over to our side.

Wolfie was as New York as the Brooklyn Bridge. He made his radio reputation on the west coast. But if you ever wonder where he kept his heart, look at the call letters on the microphone in almost all his pictures. They read WNBC. The world is a little quieter and a lot sadder since Wolfie went away.

Dick’s Details Quiz - all answers are in the current PodCast at www.DickSummer.com 

1- What has Catherine Zeta Jones got to do with Kansas City?

2- What did ants have to do with the Beatles?

3- Why did most people hold their noses at the debut of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony?

Scoring:

3- Right - Born in New York.

2- Right - Born to be wild.

1- Right - Born loser.

0- Right - Hatched.

YO: Many thanks to Dr. George Pollard for the huge interview with me he published at www.GrubStreet.ca . The article has lots of pictures and lots of memories…including Marge the Station Stripper, Al Heacock, the Father of Classic Rock, and Bruce Bradley, the most talented DJ I ever knew.

Funny thing about a long article like that…looking back at your life. Reading it was a little like not being able to find myself in that reflection of the crowd of people crossing the street in New York today. It was like I got lost in my own life. And there’s a lesson there: I’ve been a little too busy. I’ve got to take a little more time to find myself…in my own life.

According to the counter about 70,000 people read this blog every month. And I have no idea why. I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a sentence or two…just let me know what you get from reading this blog. For all I know you might have been one of the people in that crowd crossing the street today. If you were, I wonder…did you see yourself in the reflection in that window?

Or have you been in too much of a hurry to find yourself too?

Please just drop me a note at  Dick@DickSummer.com   I’m really interested

I really love…”little things.” Maybe it’s because I’ve come to understand there’s not much I can do about the “big things” in life. I’ve always believed that we can admire perfection, but we can only really love imperfections…a goofy smile…a kindergarten kid’s drawing of a tree…Joe Cocker’s “You Are So Beautiful To Me”…when his voice broke at the end…and they left it in instead of doing it over.

I love that the painting over the couch isn’t really exactly straight. Something must have just fallen off a tree in the yard… it made a small happy sound when it hit the back deck. I can actually get a little whiff of the crayons I liberated from Applebee’s last night…a red, a blue…and a green…They’re sitting on the lamp stand right next to me right now. I like the feel and smell of crayons. They give them to kids at Applebee’s to keep them quiet, so daddy can ply mommy with some adult beverages in peace.

Crayons have a kid smell about them…like chalk has…and sliced apples…and peanut butter. I liked being a kid. And I’ve always liked apples, peanut butter…the crunchy kind…strawberry jam, and oatmeal with raisins. That’s why I eat them every day…because I’m a grown up… so I can eat like a kid if I want to.

When you’re a kid, you learn the important difference between a lie and what’s not quite a lie. “The dog ate my homework” is a lie. “I wasn’t feeling good” might not be quite a lie. When I grab the crayons at Applebee’s, I always tell the waiter, “they’re for my little guys”…which is not quite a lie…because I sometimes call my fingers and my eyebrows “my little guys”…and although I am a suave, distinguished charming Louie-Louie Generation gentleman, “my little guys” sometimes get me into trouble that’s… not quite my fault.

After all, is it completely my fault what “my little guys” do while that adult person who lives in the back of my head isn’t watching?

He’s supposed to be in charge. I call him Mr. Pfarfenugen. “Pfarf” for short. My Lady Wonder Wench doesn’t always agree that it’s his fault, not my fault… especially when she says it’s not his finger tips that are cold.

But my little guys cause me problems. I’ve always wanted to say the kind of thing the Big Bopper used to say to girls…helooo baaaby…but I can’t get away with that, because when I’m talking to my Lady Wonder Wench… or any pretty girl, Mr. Pfarfenugen…that adult in the back of my head whose only job in life is keeping my little guys under control for me always runs up front to see what she looks like… and while he’s gone, my eyebrows flip up and down a couple of times…which makes my Lady Wonder Wench giggle…instead of looking at me adoringly like Bergman looked at Bogart in Casablanca. I’m reasonably convinced that’s the biggest difference between guys like Bogart and George Clooney… and me. The adults in the back of their heads keep their little guys under control.

Crayola makes about 3 billion crayons a year so kids all over the world can draw stuff for us to put up on our refrigerators. That’s been going on since the 1930s…so you figure all of today’s big shots must have played with them when they were kids…President Bush, the Pope, the Ayatollah…even that nut case in Iran who’s name I can’t pronounce…all of them did it. Can’t you just see them…as little kids…sticking their tongues out…scribbling like mad… concentrating on their coloring books…then running over to their mommies…happy and excited about drawing a tree that you can kind of recognize?

Maybe we should have a Crayola rocket. When things get tense, we’d launch it with a payload of millions of crayons…the thing would explode high up in the air, and millions of crayon boxes would float down under little parachutes…and everybody would chuck their guns…run out and grab some crayons…stick their tongues out and start scribbling.

Com’on…I know it’s childish…but give Crayola Man a little giggle. Giggles are good…except when caused by out of control eyebrows…or fingers that some beautiful woman says are too cold.

Dick’s Details Quiz - All answers are in the current PodCast at www.dicksummer.com

1- What did Akbar the Great of India do with all the girls he won playing Parcheesi?

2- What do 49% of American women say they don’t like when they’re naked?

3- How did I make some pretty good money with Crayolas?

Scoring:

3 - right - Leonardo daVinci.

2- right - Andy Warhol.

1- right - The Kindergarten kid next door with some Crayolas.

0- right - Any artist who figures he has a better idea of what a woman should look like than the Original Designer.

Any comments or outstanding Crayola drawings you’d like to share should be sent to: Dick@DickSummer.com

PERSONAL OPINION: I don’t think anybody who is in love can be a really bad person. He or she can do things a person shouldn’t do…but I think if you really love somebody…that feeling is so strong it squeezes stuff like hate and greed and envy and even fear out of your life. And I don’t think the really bad guys understand that.

The thing that got me started thinking about “Little Things Mean A Lot” was a story on the BBC a few days ago. It really grabbed me by the throat. I’m shaky on the details because it went by so fast I didn’t have time to take notes. But it was about some guy in Africa…it might have been Darfur.

It seems a bunch of bad guys attacked a village and killed everyone in it except this one guy who ran off and escaped. But while everybody was running…in the confusion…his wife tripped and fell…and the bad guys killed her. When the guy figured out what happened, he went back to find her. He knew she was dead, but he couldn’t leave her without saying goodbye.

The bad guys were so amazed that they didn’t kill him. They thought he must be some kind of holy man. They couldn’t believe that when he had it made, he had to go back…even though it meant certain death.

They just couldn’t understand that one simple thing…he loved her. He had to hold her in his arms one more time. He needed to cry for her more than he needed to live.

I think maybe the head bad guy spared him because he finally noticed something very small, very powerful, and very holy. I mean…how big is a tear?

“For always and ever, now and forever…little things mean a lot.”

Since we moved to Pennsylvania, we’ve been watching the Mets play in the Phillies beautiful stadium…where hot dogs go for about $7 … and the fans remind me a lot of good old New York. Local legend has it that a fan fell out of the upper deck last year, and when he was able to get up and walk away, the crowd booed. Just like home.

We were at a game last year, and a couple of guys were sitting next to us and really screaming. I said to one of them…hey, guys, cool it… my wife is here and you’re making me uncomfortable. He turned to me, noticed my Met’s cap, spilled some beer on my shoe and said, “This is war.” I said no…this is a game. When a war is over, you count how many guys got killed. When this game is over, these guys will take a shower and ride their limos to some five star restaurant and have dinner together. The guy spilled some beer on my other shoe and went back to screaming.

I really hate it when people get nuts like that about sports. I love competition. Baseball is a game of skill, of course, so I wasn’t really very good at it. But I was a very successful high school swimmer… because I swam the butterfly and the way you win a butterfly race is by simply refusing to die on the third lap…which is the place in the race where you’d rather die than pull your arms out of their sockets and over your head one more time.

When I was at WNBC radio, we had a softball team we called the Cheaters…because we cheated. We told people up front, honestly… that we were going to cheat, so it was ok. The only game you can’t cheat at is peek-a-boo. The WNBC Cheaters played against cops and fire departments… and once against some nuns, believe it or not…charity games. Mostly, we lost, but I always claimed we won 9-1 on the air… because, as I said…we cheated. The nuns cheated, too. They prayed. And they took advantage of a very important thing that I’ll try to put delicately…where do you apply the tag on a nun who is about to slide into second brandishing a rosary with a 20 pound crucifix on it? Then she stole third, but she felt so guilty about it she went back.

Of course, no matter how skillful and athletic some women might become, no woman will ever play major league baseball …for several important reasons. First and foremost, women do not spit; nor do they scratch. And that’s a good part of the game at the major league level. Also, if a woman were playing third base, and had to choose between catching a pop foul fly ball or saving the life of a kid falling from the stands, she would catch the kid without even considering the fact that she might have started a double play with a good peg to second.

I pitched for the WNBC Cheaters. When I pitched, the batters almost always hit a grounder. Often, however, the first bounce was around 300 feet away from home plate. I was proof of the old baseball maxim that good pitching will always stop good hitting. And vice versa.

I don’t play much ball any more. Like lots of Louie-Louie Generation guys, I have developed kind of a furniture problem. My chest has fallen into my drawers. Our bodies are like bars of soap. They get worn down when they get sent to the showers so often. That’s why Louie-Louie Generation guys have to turn the charm up to stun to remain the partners of choice of super models and Baseball Babes every where. It’s a tough job, but somebody has to do it.

Dick’s Details Quiz - All answers are available in the current PodCast at www.DickSummer.com

1- What are the warmest parts of your body…really?

2- Who discovered giant spiders hanging by threads from the moon?

3- What vegetable’s name is a rough description of my Lady Wonder Wench?

Scoring:

3 right - Hank Aaron

2 right - Duke Snider

1 right - Marv Thornberry

0 right - Dick Summer

Last time, I asked how a guy who is desperately trying to be a gentleman can open a restaurant door for a lady… when that door opens into a small space, with another door just out of arms’ reach. Some physically impossible answers came in. But one I really like came from Proud PodCast Participant Richard Butler. He says, “Reach around to open the second door, and just brush by her body a little to let her know you think she is the best.” There are those who will say that Richard and I are two dirty old men. To them, I quote the words of Big Louie…his own bad self…when he said, “Sometimes people confuse virtue for a simple lack of sufficient temptation.”

Any comments…please send an email to Dick@DickSummer.com  .

I meant to tell you about the day my “Lady Wonder Wench” became my “Baseball Babe.” She had a brother by the name of Bob. When they were kids growing up, Bobby used to try to get her to smile by staring at her and daring her not to smile…you know the game. Bob grew up and joined the army. He was a good soldier who did his family and his country proud. When he died a few years ago…as his closest living relative, they gave My Lady the American flag that’s now in a mahogany case on our living room wall.

She toughed it out. She didn’t cry. It reminded me of what it must have been like when Bobby was looking at her trying to get her to laugh…when they were kids. She didn’t cry…or maybe she couldn’t cry…even when the honor guard fired his last salute…and he was laid to rest…she didn’t cry. But she didn’t smile much either…until almost a year later.

It was at a Mets spring training game…on a bright, breezy spring day. When the game was about to begin, the P.A. announcer said, “Please rise, remove your hats and honor America by joining together to sing our national anthem.” Everybody stood up and took off their hats, and a military Honor guard marched out with the flag snapping smartly in the wind.

Thousands of us stood up…shoulder to shoulder… to sing the Star Spangled Banner. And when we got to the part about “oh say does that Star Spangled banner still wave”…she started squeezing my hand pretty hard… and as she sang about the land of the free and the home of the brave…it was like her brother Bobby finally stared my lovely Lady Wonder Wench down…and she smiled at him…and me. And cried.

That’s how…one lovely spring day… my Lady Wonder Wench became my Baseball Babe.

Doug and I got banished from the radio at about the same time, and we both fly little airplanes, so we have plenty of things to talk about. For example, if Bill Gates goes flying, should his wallet have to be classified as carry on luggage? And what would chairs look like if our legs bent the other way? And how come they always have somebody demonstrating stuff in the housewares dept. of the store, but never in the lingerie department? Charlene and W.Wench seem to have plenty of things to talk about, too. Things like, what are they going to do about their biggest problems? For example, Doug and me.

This is a dinner invitation. So you should know that my Lady Wonder Wench often tries to help me evolve a bit further up the food chain, by encouraging me to be more careful of my table manners. She does that, for example… by embedding the toe of her pointy toed high heel shoes three inches into my leg under the table if I take monster bites. I can’t help taking monster bites. I get hungry.

I tell her in some cultures it’s considered impolite if you don’t belch during a meal. I tell her the words of Big Louie his own bad self…”Tis better to burp and bear the shame, than not to burp and bear the pain.” She is not impressed. She also takes exception if I talk with my mouth full. She always says I should be more communicative … and then she asks me a question…I’ve got half a hamburger in my mouth…what am I supposed to do? I’ll tell you what I do. I move my legs out of the way real fast.

But the thing that really gets her is when I pick my teeth. Food gets stuck in there. It’s uncomfortable. She raises her eyebrow when I do that… and she gets quiet. I hate that. Raising an eyebrow on purpose is different from when somebody really sexy walks past and your limbic system goes into warp drive… and you lose control of your eyebrows. That happens to me all the time. Can’t help that. But raising one eyebrow… slowly…and then getting quiet…that’s like the ultimate sarcastic comment…a sarcastic comment so eloquent that it doesn’t need words. It is the sarcasm equivalent of a raised center finger. Wonder Wench works in slowly raised eyebrows the way other artists work in oil or marble.

I think she should cut me some slack. She always says, “Your friend Charles has such nice manners.” Of course he does. He drinks expensive wine. You chugalug that stuff and you’re broke in five minutes.

I could be worse. I see guys wearing baseball caps backwards in restaurants. That’s not only impolite, it looks really stupid. I don’t do that. I see guys wolfing down their food with their chins on their plates, making noises like the intake end of a 747 engine. I’ll betcha there are guys out there who probably drink their milk right out of the cow. And don’t forget the kind of guy who’s always experimenting to see how many beers he can pour in before they start pouring out…and he’s never made eye contact with a date, because breasts don’t have eyes. So…I could be worse.

We were at our favorite diner Thursday. It’s run by a very cultured guy by the name of Alex. He was a lawyer in Egypt before he came here to become an American citizen. Like any good restaurant owner, he is always roaming around the place to see to it that his customers are happy. He was visiting with my Lady Wonder Wench and me, and all of a sudden he gave a little cringe as he was watching the salad bar.

I looked over to see what was up, just in time to see this big guy who looked like a member of the two fisted booger brigade, in a stained sweat shirt and torn jeans…with a bowl of soup in one hand and a salad dish in the other… and he wanted an apple. So he just reached down and grabbed one with his mouth. Now get the picture, please. This guy was a real porker…about the size of your average zip code… and he’s walking back to his table with an apple stuck in his mouth.

As a guy literally oozing manners, I would have been much more subtle. I would have tucked the apple discretely into my arm pit and nobody would have noticed.

Dick’s Details Quiz - All answers are available in the current PodCast at www.DickSummer.com

1- How were some citizens of Beatrice, Nebraska surprised by their toilets?

2- What kind of famous silicone has been spotted near Hollywood?

3- Why do more people bite their fingernails than bite their toe nails?

Scoring:

3 - right - You’re regularly invited to tea at the White House.

2 - right - You’re regularly invited to a really good restaurant.

1- right - You’re regularly invited to a really good diner.

0 - right - Dumpster diving again.

Speaking of manners, you know what’s really hard…when you’re going into a restaurant where the outside door opens into a little space, and there’s another door leading into the restaurant. I can never figure out how to open the first door for Wonder Wench, let her go in first, and then reach around to open the second door, too. Any ideas on how to do that would be greatly appreciated. Please send E-mails to Dick@dicksummer.com .

Taking a love affair or a long time friendship for granted is a terrible mistake. My Lady Wonder Wench and I are really looking forward to seeing our old friends Doug and Charlene again Saturday. Such a long time seemed to happen… so fast.

See how easy it is to get your attention? His picture was on the cover of Time magazine a little while ago. My Lady Wonder Wench usually doesn’t spend much time with Time. But when George showed up in our mail box, she instantly proved that there are more than 67 positions in which you can read a magazine…which is ok…but all at once? I keep telling her that “if you look closely you can tell that George is not in shape anymore… everything has gone so limp on him that he has to eat oysters just to snap his fingers.” I don’t think she even heard me. I told her “no matter what he looks like, some woman somewhere is tired of his b.s.” She didn’t argue with me…she just ignored me. I hate ignorance.

I don’t think you should be allowed to send pictures like that through the mail. A guy should feel safe around his mailbox…he shouldn’t have to always be looking over his shoulder to see if a picture of Clooney is going to pop out unexpectedly and make him look bad. Bill, the mail guy, is a friend of mine. I told him next time he puts a picture of Clooney in my mail box, put a copy of the Victoria’s Secret catalogue in right next to it. Let those girls sweat all over him…might make the colors on his picture run…which might make him look a little more like me.

The magazine article was written by an idiot who said in effect, “George is just a regular guy.” WRONG! I am an ordinary guy. George is the biggest movie star in the world, making more money per smile than I will ever make in my lifetime, with porno stars, super models and high priced call girls begging to have his babies.

Those high priced call girls are all over the news these days. I guess you could say they get paid for sleeping on the job. For those of us who have to get out of bed to go to work…the experts say…we should try to follow what they call our “body clocks.”

Different people have different body clocks. I’ve always been a late night guy. Wonder Wench is more of a morning person. She says the early bird gets the worm. I tell her I don’t want to eat worms. If you and your mate have different body clocks, you’ll have problems to work out. I always hated my alarm clock. When it went off, I wanted to smash it against the wall and snarl, don’t tell me what to do, buddy, and dive back under the covers. Sometimes I just turned it off and went back to sleep. That causes being- late- for- all- kinds -of- things- problems. So Wonder Wench got me an alarm clock that’s called “Clocky.” When it goes off, you have 30 seconds to turn it off. If you don’t react in time, there are two rubber wheels on the bottom and… seriously… it rolls off the night stand and scoots around the room ringing louder and louder till you catch it and turn it off…and smash it against the wall and snarl, don’t tell me what to do, buddy.

Dick’s Details Quiz - All the answers are available in the current PodCast at www.DickSummer.com

1- What former rock star is now advising the government on missile defenses?

2- What new gizmo is “music to our rears”?

3- What’s “Rip van Wrinkle’s” real name?

Scoring:

3 right - George Clooney/Catherine Zeta Jones

2 right - Brad Pitt/Angelina Jolie

1 right - Louie DePalma/Phyllis Diller

0 right - Mickey Mouse/Lassie

THE SEEMINGLY UNSOLVABLE SUMMER STUMPER HAS BEEN SOLVED! “What is it without which an airplane cannot fly, but which is of no value to the airplane?” The answer is not air, the pilot, the runway, lift, nor is it electricity. An email from Proud PodCast Participant Melissa Butler came pouring in to Dick@DickSummer.com . It said in part, “Your clue was a bell. It made me think of the sound you get when you call a flight attendant. So maybe it’s just sound.” Bingo…as they say in church.

Every plane makes some sound in flight. Even a glider makes a sound moving through the air. So, congratulations to Melissa. I’ve asked her to pick one of the Personal Audio cds at which I’ll send to her as a prize. And if she’s ever around here, she’s invited for a sightseeing tour in my little airplane.

We’ll have another Summer Stumper next time.

One more quick point:

CALL GIRLS !

See how easy it is go get your attention? I really hate how the news media ground that story into the ground. The lady involved this time was mostly painted as an ignorant, publicity seeking money grubber. But I don’t think so. She’s certainly much more interesting than the politician involved, and more honest than the hypocritical media. I call her a lady because…well… listen to some quotes from one of New York’s top “Call Girls”: “Most of my clients were looking for companionship. They wanted an emotional connection with me. I’m a helpless romantic. I definitely fell in love with some of my clients. I should have done some things differently, and I’ve experienced the consequences. But I stand by my choices. I understand why I made them. And I take responsibility for them.”

Sounds like a lady to me…a lady with guts…and a lady who honestly enjoyed making a lot of money giving men some of the physical and emotional connection and satisfaction that for some reason was missing in their lives. Doesn’t sound like a sin for the lady to me. For the guy if he’s married…yeah…maybe. Marriage vows deserve respect. But hypocrisy just deserves contempt.

Which is what I have for most of the people doing the reporting. They certainly can’t seem to get far enough over the big money THEY make to treat this lady… like a lady should be treated. At least the lady gave something of value. The media just proved again how easy it is to get our attention…and their ratings. Ratings mean money.

Both the lady and the media were in it for the money. But at least the lady was honest about it.

She turns on me when I’m driving the car…my soft, loving, beautiful, faithful, smart, wonderful, Wonder Wench. She criticizes my driving so… enthusiastically… it’s like a single word coming out of her mouth. My buddy Al says maybe that’s a good thing… because we don’t keep petty annoyances to ourselves. He says “you get together and shout things over while you’re in the car.” Al’s wife VG doesn’t do that anymore. Actually she does, but now Al has a convertible…and he drives with the top down all the time…even in January…so he can’t hear what she’s saying.

Of course, there are better ways than yelling to work out your petty annoyances. I told you I am Mr. Pushups…making the fingerprints on the carpet doing my daily sets helps a lot to calm me down. I like working out at home instead of at a gym, because it’s free, and you can scratch yourself any place and any time you like. Besides, if you go to a weight room it’s always full of large, sweaty, smelly guys, who are clanging barbells loudly and making noises like elephants with severe intestinal gas. Then you go into the sauna, and there are always two overweight, elderly ladies loudly discussing some growths they’ve found in their pelvic areas.

The only problem with working out at home is that you can make up too many excuses. I find myself saying…ok…time to work out. Let’s do some push ups. Then my other self says, “Well, ok, but not now. It’s been a long day. And better not do any tomorrow either because it’s pretty close to today…work out too often and next thing you know you’ll strain a ligament or something. That can cause a condition known to the medical profession as a charley horse…which is sometimes semi fatal.” I catch myself saying things like that.

I’m in fairly good shape. Like lots of Louie-Louie Generation guys, I can still do the Watusi, the Swim, and the Mashed Potatoes. I have some problems with the limbo…but I can still do it…even though when I do, my Lady Wonder Wench smiles one of those tight little “oh my God, don’t kill yourself” smiles.

How come we don’t have any new dances like the Twist or the Loco Motion? Come to think of it, maybe we do, but our kids just aren’t telling us about them.

There is something very Limbic about dancing. Your Limbic system lives in a little pea size thing at the bottom and back of your brain. It is a totally irresponsible little devil. My Limbic system is the thing that makes my eyebrows wiggle when Wonder Wench wanders in wearing something she says is “a little more comfortable.” It’s kind of the “Wild Thing that makes your heart sing”…and sees to it that everything is “groovy.”

I like that word…”groovy”…it’s so…sixties. I liked the sixties. They had mini skirts in the sixties. Wonder Wench wore one…very well. Those of us who are members of the Louie-Louie Generation remember the immortal words of Big Louie…his own bad self, when he said…”There IS…a difference… between a girl who is wearing a mini skirt and a girl who’s just wearing a skirt that’s too short for her.” I say ‘Viva la difference.’

Dick’s Details Quiz - All answers are in the current PodCast at  www.dicksummer.com .

1- Depending on the male/female mix and what they’re wearing and what time it is, how far will ten people raise the temperature of a medium size room?

2- Why do you sometimes see spaghetti stuck to the wall in homes where people watch the TV Food Channel?

3- Depending on the physical attributes of nearby females, what does the AMA say a healthy man should be able to do in three seconds?

Scoring:

3 - right - “Dancing With The Stars” winner

2 - right - “American Bandstand Regular”

1- right - “The Fonz/ Richie’s Sister”

0- right - Dick Summer/Wonder Wench Summer

“The Summer Stumper”: What is it without which an airplane cannot fly, but which is of no value to the airplane. Nobody has come up with the right answer so far, regardless of the valiant efforts of Proud PodCast Participants like Dick Butler, Jim Doran, Eric the Pilot, ms. Many Waters, Mike T, Paul Berge the Ailerona guy, and lots of others. The answer is not the pilot…it’s not air…and it’s not lift. The answer is not some trick or some joke…it’s a real answer…and it’s almost excruciatingly simple. When you think you have it figured out, send me an Email at Dick@DickSummer.com    Don’t feel badly if you don’t get it right away… even some very high time pilots haven’t come up with the right answer. So I will keep on annoying you with the Summer Stumper until someone rings the bell. Which is a clue by the way. What is it without which an airplane cannot fly, but which is of no value to the airplane.

I sometimes give my Lady Wonder Wench a hard time about what might be called her…slightly excessive verbal activities in the car (to say nothing of the scratch marks she often leaves on the upholstry). The truth is, that doesn’t really bother me as much as when she is completely quiet. As any Louie-Louie Generation guy will understand…when your wife is quiet…really quiet…THAT’s scary.

But the scariest thing about My Lady Wonder Wench really… is…her courage. It hasn’t been easy…through those disc jockey years… sweating the ratings…the hypnotist time…trying to make business ends meet…and now.

Now…I’m still a go getter. But going and getting it takes me two trips. I don’t know anybody else who would have stuck with me through all this…with so much beauty, love, style and grace.

Except while I’m driving the car. Thank God she wasn’t in the car with me when I was delivering pizzas.