Further Dabbling with HTML

I'm playing around with a few of the self-taught HTML technigues I've recently learned. This is, perhaps, the birth of a future website I hope to manage some day.

WELLS TECHCOMM

Joel A. Wells •
CEO

Who are we?

Wells TechComm is a technical communications company that is committed to handling the document needs of any business and organization. Wells TechComm is prepared and ready to take on any size documentation project. We can quickly produce the following documents:

HTML Experiment

Below, I copy and pasted a web page I designed using html.

Who the hell am I?

Welcome to Dave's Devil Sticks, owned and operated by David Vinet. If you're looking for juggling balls, hacky sacks, pins, unicycles, or magic hats, you've come to the wrong place; but if you're looking for high-quality, hand-crafted devil
sticks...then this it the site for you. I've been designing and building sticks during the last 20 years. I know my sticks are the best of their kind. Don't take my word for it. Read the following testimonial:

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"Dave's products are the best. I would gladly walk a thousand miles through an Antarctic blizzard to get one of his sticks!"

— Freddie Farkle-dude

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Every set is checked and tested before being shipped out to assure perfect quality. I take pride in every one of my sticks and I want my customers to feel that same pride.

My products

• Basic Stick
  
  The easiest stick to learn with, but "grippy" enough for the most demanding tricks. Comes in red, green and blue.


• Flower Stick
  
  A graceful stick with colored tassels. The Flower Stick floats more slowly, giving you the ideal chance to practice new moves.


• Master Stick
  
  My most popular stick is shorter and heavier for fast play and more advanced tricks. Each master set is available in custom colors.


• Glow Stick
  
  The Glow Stick shines brightly at night (without the danger of a fire stick). It combines the fun and versatility of the Master Stick, adding the fun tricks unique to a glow-in-the-dark stick.

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Dave's Devil Sticks •
4180 East Hall Avenue •
Terre Haute, IN USA 47805 •
(812)208-5985

OWS and Why Hippie Punching Won't Work

"Get a job!" "Take a bath!" This is quickly becoming the theme of the right-wing attack machine against the #Occupy Wall Street movement, which is now more than two months old. Even the leading candidates seeking next year's GOP presidential nomination are adopting this talking point technique, which many pundits call, 'hippie punching'.



Many conservative politicians owe their living to 'hippie punching'. The last time the left really took to the streets was during the 1960s...when many protesters held public demonstrations to promote civil rights or end our military involvement in Vietnam. Richard Nixon capitalized on the anxieties of the so-called 'silent majority' by promising to bring 'law and order' to the cities and college campuses. Nixon and the right's appeal struck a chord with America's working class, who saw the protesters as nothing more than spoiled rich kids who've never worked a day in their lives. Even my father, while supportive of their causes, often referred to hippies as 'middle-class brats'.

The right continued to use this paradigm successfully ever since. Every progressive movement during the last 40 years has been labelled with the lazy hippy tag. This includes the nuclear freeze movement of the 80s, the WTO protests of 90s and the anti-Iraq War movement (what there was of it!) during the last decade.

Now comes Occupy Wall Street...and the right has, once again, begun punching hippies. However, today's dynamic is quite different. This isn't 1969 when long hair and radical politics were something found only in a few urban neighborhoods and campus towns. The growing support for Occupy Wall Street suggests that the American people are more interested in substance and real economic issues than with cheap shots about drum circles, long hair and hygiene.

The issues of the late 60s pitted labor unions and veterans against the protesters. Now the protesters have the vast support of members from both groups. This is a crucial difference that will make all the difference in the world. Hippy punching may work in the short term (the Republican primaries) but eventually, it will fall flat.

Ten Years Later: My Memories of that Awful Day

Forget September 11, 2001? I know I never will. Personally, I don't think too many people over the age 13 will. (Anyone younger than 13 today was either a small toddler, an infant or not born yet. I base this assumption on my own memory recall ability as I cannot remember anything in my life before the age of three.)

First, I believe I should begin my recollection with this disclaimer: My memories of 9/11 don't even come close to the tragedy of the people who had to experience it first hand...or even second-hand. I'm fortunate that I was thousands miles away from all three of the attacks.

Nevertheless, like the whole world, Terre Haute, Indiana, my home, wasn't completely immune. I, too, remember that awful day.

Ironically, it started out as a picture-perfect day. I recall the sky, which was cloudless, having an unusually brilliant shade of blue. I remember thinking to myself that I should call in for my scheduled 12-hour shift at Sony DADC, which is where I was gainfully employed as a temp at the time.

Anyway, I reported to work and clocked in 6 a.m. Soon, I began working on my assigned packaging line. There are no clocks in Sony's packaging plant, so I'm guessing around 8 a.m, about an hour or so before my first break, I overheard my line leader saying that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I asked her if anyone was hurt thinking it was only an accident. She said she didn't know.

A little later, I overheard her saying a plane had crashed into the Pentagon.

"I thought you said it was the World Trade Center.", I said.

She said, "This is another one."

I thought to myself,"What are the odds of two plane crashes into national landmarks on the same day?"

She must have seen my look of puzzlement and said, "We're under attack!".

"No frickin'way", I thought. "She must have her facts wrong".

When break time finally arrived, I knew something definitely up. Instead of the usual, boring Sony closed-circuit broadcast, the break room TV monitors had live news coverage of it showing the awful image of smoke billowing out from the WTC. No one was saying a word. My boss soon came by and told me that DADC was closing down for the day, and that I could go home.

Later that day, I remember that that some of the Terre Haute schools had bomb scares, and that certain gas stations decided to raise their gas prices. One station on Wabash decided to spike their prices up to $6 dollars-a-gallon, which is high even by today's standards. That gas station went out of business when calmer heads began to prevail again in the days afterward.

Priorities: People and Numbers

No written record exists of the exact time when human beings began to demonstrate the abstract ability to think of things in terms of numbers. Carbon dating has revealed that prehistoric humans were able to count things some 37 thousand years ago when scientists recently used it to determine the age of what is believed to be the oldest evidence of counting—an African baboon bone with 29 distinct and deliberately cut notches.

Now, our very modern experience is flooded with numbers. Don’t get me wrong. Our unique fascination with numbers has more often than not has made life much less arduous in many more ways than we can readily imagine. What's more, one could consider that that previous sentence the understatement of all time.

However, many politicians and a complicit media collaboratively working for corporate interests seem to have manipulated our seemingly instinctive attraction to numbers in the recent ‘debate’ over the federal deficit. Somehow, many people are convinced that it’s more important for our government to balance its books with abstract numbers than it is to serve the unemployment, health care and infrastructure needs of tangible and real PEOPLE.

Folks, this debt deal ranks as one of the harshest pieces of legislation Congress has passed in my lifetime. (I’m 54.) It does nothing to address the country's immediate problem that has a direct impact on the quality of life for PEOPLE—joblessness. Shouldn’t the plight of PEOPLE be the government’s first priority? Abstract numbers reflecting a massive debt, while important,could have waited a year of two.

3M and the Golf Market

It seems 3M has hit the jackpot, once again, with another innovative and well-marketed product. Since initiating the Greptile Grip golf glove in 2004, 3M has earned millions of dollars from tapping into what was to them a new market. But, perhaps, some dark clouds lie ahead for 3M as the lucrative golf market may become a threat to future profits.

According to an article in the New York Times, fewer Americans are playing golf these days. The total number of people who play has declined or remained flat each year since 2000, dropping to about 26 million from 30 million, according to the National Golf Foundation and the Sporting Goods Manufacturers Association. The Times says one golf club owner blames the decline on the sport taking up too much time. Men, the owner says, don't won't to spend an entire day away from home anymore, especially when there are so many ways to be entertained there.

3M is lucky because this decline is offset by huge increases of golf's popularity internationally, especially in Asia. But 3M marketers, I'm sure, are keenly aware of this trend, and are working on ways to mitigate it.

Forbidding In-line Skating (Marketing 101)

Many parks and community laws forbid anyone from skating either on skateboards, in-line skates and kid’s scooters. This circumstance is an example that requires marketers to consider regulatory forces before making a business decision about skates. Because many governments have associated the use of in-line skates with skateboards and scooters, skaters are fighting for the very legality of their sport.

Many legislators wrote these laws forbidding skating before Rollerblades basically reinvented in-line skates during the 80s. It appears that lawmakers regard in-line skaters as nothing more than children playing with an unsafe toy.

Rollerblades has responded by teaming up with schools and initiating an exercise program called "Skate in School". It’s a program helps schools win much needed funding designated for physical fitness. Rollerblades reports that more than a thousand schools nationwide are using it.

Radio Days (Part III): Culture Shock and "What's the Barometric Pressure?"

During the mid 1980s, my radio career took a dramatic turn. From the vibrant and dynamic lifestyle of Florida's Gulf Coast, I suddenly found myself thrust in a rural, isolated and of course, conservative backwater located in Northwest Oklahoma. The following is the third in a series of essays about my life as a broadcaster. Time Frame: 1983-1985.

After Florida fizzled out, I more or less stumbled my way back to St. Louis. I was virtually penniless from basically binging and partying away the small amount of savings that I had acquired. My parents less than enthusiastically took me in for what turned to be the last time I actually lived under their roof.

After the first day or so of niceties, my folks quickly guided my attention toward getting a job. I honestly thought that at this point that my career in radio was over. So I was not offended when my parents began presenting me help-wanted ads for insurance sales jobs.

Nevertheless, I kept hearing this little voice in my head. It kept telling me, "the Broadcast Center offers lifetime placement for their students". I reminded my folks about this service, and they basically said, "go for it!" So, I paid the school a visit.

I must have struck while the iron was hot because the Broadcast Center called within literally hours after my visit about about an opening. They told me it was at a station completely staffed by Center graduates. They must thought that this was the stronger selling point about the job because they withheld its location until I asked.

"Woodward, Oklahoma", they said. "It's in the northwest corner of the state near the panhandle." I asked about the format. They said the station, KSIW, is a full-service AM station that plays Country that's coupled with an automated FM station, KSIW-FM, that plays Top 40.

For some reason I was reluctant. But I was quickly reminded that I was lucky to have this opportunity, and I took it. In about a week, I made the trip out.

It was kind of a dismaying trip to me. The further west I went, it seemed towns, trees and radio stations became fewer in number. After I got about 60 miles west of Enid, Oklahoma, my FM car radio went totally silent. I switched to AM, however, and I was reassured in the fact that I was still able to pick up a couple of "blowtorches" from Tulsa and Oklahoma City.

I finally pulled into dusty and desolate Woodward. The smell of manure was ample. Everyone wore Western attire and waved at you as you drove by. (This by the way is not an act as I later learned. The people in this area are really that friendly.) I really felt like I was on a different planet. I was able to pick up only two FM stations, and on one of them (KSIW-FM as it turned out), I heard an almost prophetic song telling me to turn around. It was Bonnie Tyler's 1983 hit, "Total Eclipse of the Heart".





I decided to stick it out, and settled into being gainfully employed at KSIW-AM and FM. This operation was run with quite the iron hand. Ed Ryan, an elderly Oklahoma cowboy, owned and ran the station, and it was his way or the highway.

When I came to town, a brand-new, 100,000-watt FM country station (KWOX-FM, K-101) just opened for business, and they were, more or less, taking the area by storm. Meanwhile, the folks at KSIW, who were used to having the market to themselves, continued along business as usual. It was their little money maker, and programming was a totally foreign concept.

KSIW had a number of peculiar rules by which on-air personnel had to abide.We were announcers, not deejays or air personalities. We were never allowed to say our names.

Also, we were never permitted to segue one song into another. Between EVERY record, we were required to back announce the song, give the complete weather forecast along with current conditions including the humidity, wind speed, temperature and barometric pressure. Finally,then, we introduced the next song.

Pity the poor announcer who forgot to mention the barometric pressure. It seems an elderly woman named Leona meticulously kept track of it. She would instantly call the station, and ask in her deliberate and elederly voice, "what's the barometric pressure?" I thought at the time that this lady needs to get a life, and it became somewhat of a running joke among us announcers. But I later learned Leona survived the infamous Woodward tornado of 1947,one of the worst in U.S. history. She was not as batty as I previously thought because before Doppler radar, the barometer was about the only tool around that gave people a little bit of a tornado warning.

Also, all the commercial production was done by the sales staff. There were many instances when I thought I wouldn't be able to further my broadcast career because I wasn't able to put together a decent air check or getting any experience learning audio production. It seemed to me that the the ownership should have automated the AM station considering all the restriction they placed on the announcers.

Despite these rules, I still managed to have fun, and I made some pretty good friends. As I previously stated, the people in this part of the country are very courteous. I joined a health club that offered a swimming pool. I swam laps there at least two to three times a week, and I was able to keep myself in pretty good shape. I also began spinning records at Woodward's one-and-only night club called "Chaps". Even though I played a mix of pop and country songs, the crowds were decidedly partial to two-stepping. They two-stepped to the likes of George Strait and Huey Lewis and the News.

Early in 1985, the owner, Ed Ryan, suffered a debilitating stroke. His daughter-in-law soon took over operations because of his illness. Because of this change and the realization that it was losing virtually all its business to the competitor across the street, KSIW decided to start giving its announcers a little more freedom. The station actually began promoting itself. I remember KSIW began giving a away bumper stickers that contained a coupon for a local pizza joint.

Now, the announcers were allowed to say their names, perform specific shifts (mine was 7 PM-to-Midnight) and create commercial production. It was definitely a change for the better.

Unfortunately for KSIW, this freedom enabled their announcers a chance to showcase their broadcasting skills on airchecks. One-by-one, each announcer came with the news that they were leaving for greener pastures. I was no exception. I soon got an offer to do afternoon drive at a 100,000-watt rock station in my home state of Missouri.

There are several songs, both country and pop, that I'll always associate with KSIW.

I remember airing these tunes on 1450 KSIW-AM, which was country.







Meantime, 93.5 KSIW-FM, our automated sister station, was the only outlet that played pop music within a 100-mile radius of Woodward. It was on this station where I first heard these tunes.









Coming up: Back home in Missouri

User Guide Project

My course project for "Advanced Technical Writing and Editing" is finally complete. It was an 8-week, course-long effort where four other classmates and me collaborated to produce a 40-page document called, Using MS 2007 to Create a Webpage: A User Guide. The following people helped and have my sincere gratitude:

• Cynthia Chretien
• Ricky Conner
• Lakiesha Cowans
• Tomeka Horton

Here's the user guide displayed page by page:

Therein lies the rub...

It’s amazing how many people who either fail or ignore the following concept:

• The rich have higher tax rates because they can more easily withstand the consequence.

I did a little researching, and from what I could gather, economists regard the average wage of the top 1 percent of the wealthiest Americans for 2010 to be nearly $1.5 million dollars. (I don’t believe you or I fall into this category. If you do, introduce me to your financial adviser.)

Now, if the government takes 35 percent out of a $1.5 million-dollar income, those particular wage earners will see their income reduced by some half-million dollars. However, that person will still have some $975,000 dollars with which to live. Yes, that’s a sizable drop, but I’m quite sure I could still live quite lavishly. I know I'm up for the challenge.

Now, consider a wage earner from the lower middle class who lives from paycheck-to-paycheck making about $30,000 dollars a year. Thirty-five percent of 30 thousand equals $11,200 dollars. No, it’s not a half-million dollars. While this amount is considerably less than what the government takes out on the top 1 percent, the loss of it is much more ruinous and devastating to the lower middle class wage earner. A lower middle class wage earner would suddenly find himself or herself not just eking out of living, but crossing the threshold into poverty. Earners would suddenly need to have supplemental entitlements, such as food stamps and Medicaid, to just to live.

I hope this information puts a little perspective on things.

Still Filling a Niche...

I think reports of print's death "are greatly exaggerated". Remember, back in the 1980s, many experts predicted that music videos will will kill the radio star.



While it's not a big as it once was, radio, nevertheless, is still a viable medium. It fills a niche.

E-books are wonderful. However, I believe printed books and documents, like radio, will fill a niche. Electronics, even with batteries and satellites, still has its limitations. The need and desire to read still exceed this technology, and I believe, this is where print has its niche.

By the way, I've yet to across any e-book technology that can turn pages as fast as I can manually with an old-fashioned, printed book.

Blogging from MS Word

Just for giggles…I'm checking out how my blog site works with MS Word!!!

Radio Days (Part II):the First Gig, Fish Radio and Florida

During much of the 80s and 90s, I enthusiastically pursued a career in radio broadcasting. The following is the second in a series of essays about the time I made a living at talking behind a microphone. This story recalls my first radio job in Florida. Time Frame: 1982-1983

It was mid-to-late October, and as is typical for St. Louis, the first nip of winter was in the air. However, this was October, 1982, and it was memorable for two reasons: First, the St. Louis Cardinals had just won the World Series after a 15 year drought. Second, I just landed my first radio gig.

Actually, I learned about landing the job while the Cardinals were battling the Milwaukee Brewers during the fall classic. I remember the Broadcast Center calling to tell me that they had some very good news. They asked me to come to the school and talk with their placement director as soon as possible. I, of course, obliged.

When I arrived, the placement director (for the life of me, I can't remember his name...) asked me, "how does Florida sound?". I think I responded by saying something like, "awesome". He told that he played my air-check for Jim Allen, the Program Director for 'Fish Radio' in Niceville, Florida.

In my subsequent phone call, Allen came right out and told me that the station wanted someone who could do both the evening air-shift and sell advertising time during the day. He told me that Fish Radio (WFSH) was a stand-alone AM station with 'block' formatting. This meant that listeners could hear the formats of Country, Big Bands or Top-40. It all depended on what time the listener would tune in.

Fish's format block for the 7PM-Midnight shift was Top-40 and Allen asked if I'd be interested doing it. Of course I would. I accepted his job offer and began working on November 1st.

One can make the journey from St. Louis to northwest Florida in less than a day if he or she really leadfoots it. But time was on my side. I decided to visit my brother Tim while making an overnight stop in Nashville, Tennessee. After an enjoyable reunion with Tim (These have been far too rare.), I drove the rest of the way. When I entered Florala, Alabama, I knew I was close. At last, I crossed the Florida border and spotted a huge billboard with the following message: "Welcome to the Emerald Coast..Florida's Best Kept Secret".

And the marketers using this description in their advertising strategy were not exaggerating, not in the least. As it turned out, Niceville was less than a 15 minute drive to Fort Walton Beach and Destin, places where one could find the most pristine, snowy white beaches complemented with alluring gulf shore waters in various shades of turquoise, aqua and blue.

(Recently, some of this idyllic quality to the area's beaches has been lost because of two factors:

1. The tourism industry has been relatively late to capitalize on the area's beauty. Back in the early 80's, college spring breakers converged on other party locales, such as Daytona and Fort Lauderdale.
2. Last year, the British Petroleum oil spill left a devastating and catastrophic mark on the entire Gulf region, including the Fort Walton Beach, Destin and Niceville area.)

Even though Niceville was physically just a hop, skip and a jump away from all this splendor, culturally, however, it was a world away. It was off the beaten path. Few, if any, tourists visited Niceville. (Although it did provide excellent sunning and fishing with access to the Choctawhatchee Bay.) It was swampy, bayou country that offered nearly 100 percent daily humidity during the summer. The county courthouse flew a Confederate battle flag...and local residents referred to the area as 'L.A.'...lower Alabama.

'Fish Radio' targeted this Niceville demographic of rednecks, less prosperous retirees and Air Force military personnel. Yes, I almost forgot to mention that Niceville and the entire 'Emerald Coast' are completely surrounded by Eglin Air Force Base...which is nearly as large some U.S. states in area. Niceville had many radio choices with at least a dozen stations beaming in from Fort Walton Beach, Pensacola (home to a great rock station, TK-101!) and Panama City. But, 'the Fish' was THE Niceville station.

On my first day, Jim Allen handed me a pile of roughly three dozen 45 records which appeared as if he had just bought from the record store just before my arrival. He told me to 'mix these up along with a few songs from their 'oldies' collection. And he added," don't forget to play the news and the legal I.D. at the top of the hour...and of course,the commercials on the log!" That was the extent of my prep.

I can still remember the first song I played. I openend the mike, and nervously said something like, "hello ladies and gentlemen. I'm Joel Wells and here's the Steve Miller Band with Abracadabra, here on the Fish." (Those last four words became somewhat of a crutch for me as I recall.)

This was 1982, and MTV had pretty much become mainstream. Video hadn't really killed the radio star, but it definitely had his or her attention. Our playlist basically consisted of tracks that wer hit videos at the time. I believe the number one hit at the time was "Up Where We Belong" by Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes, which, of course, we played into the ground. Another monster hit of the time was Mellencamp's "Jack and Diane."

And lest we forget, this nauseating hit from Toni Basil:

This lasted until March 1983, until 'Fish Radio' experienced, shall we say, an inside revolt.
I seems the morning guy, who played country during his show, had convinced the station manager to change to an all-country format and to hire his son-in-law, Gary Gray, as the new PD. Gray came in from WPAP of Panama City, which he told me often was a reporting station for the now departed Radio & Records magazine. (I wasn't sure of the significance of this at the time, but I knew it had to be good since Gray, more or less wore it as a badge of honor.)
Nonetheless, Gray seemed to take to me as I was able to hang on to my job. Allen, they guy who originally hired me and the midday guy who played Big Band music didn't fare quite so well. They got gassed.
I was relieved to still have a job, but I soon had to get acclamated to the fact that I was required to play Country music. Since I grew up in St. Louis, my only real knowledge of the genre didn't extend much beyond Glen Campbell, Hee Haw and Porter Waggoner, all of whom I knew from watching television. Gray told me to act as if I had been playing country all my life and to have fun with it. It worked. As a matter of fact I actually began to acquire a taste for it.
The following are some of the country songs I remember playing:
1. Johnny Lee/Cherokee Fiddle

2. Waylon & Willie/Just to Satisfy You

and 3. Shelly West/Jose Cuervo

but by June of 83, it seemed that that there was a lot inside politics going within the station...and with the station itself and town merchants. It seemed my meager commission and pay checks were beginning to bounce. Gary Gray just suddenly didn't show up for work one day with no explanation. I later discovered that he got busted for dealing drugs. I decided it was time for me to exit. I quit WFSH, but decided to stay in the area and party my ass off for about a month. I had a girlfriend who was gracious enough to late me stay at her place. I realize that it wasn't one of my most responsible moments, but then again I was 25, single and living near the beach.

Coming up: Part III, Back on Track, Oklahoma and Culture Shock

Annotated Portfolio: A Collection of My Recent Work

I've just completed a course called 'Document Design' in my online studies with DeVry University. I, emphatically, believe that this class, so far, has been the most worthwhile. I believe I've really learned some marketable skills that will help me move ahead with my newly chosen career in technical communications.

The following is my final project for the course. It's called "Annotated Porfolio". As the title implies, it's a collection of the design work I've completed. I used MS Publisher to complete most of my samples. However, I produced some using MS Word, Excel and PowerPoint.

I submitted "Annotated Portfolio" as a PowerPoint slide presentation. (I'm anxiously awaiting a grade from my professor.) The following eight pictures are uploaded JPEG images of the presentation:











































































Well, there you have it! My next course, which begins February 28th (next Mon.), is 'Advanced Technical Writing and Editing'. Perhaps, I'll be able to add some more additions to my portfolio after I complete this class.

Radio Days (Part I): The Broadcast Center

It seems like ages ago, and perhaps, it was. During my early adult years, I pretty much ate, breathed and lived radio broadcasting. The following is the first of a series of essays about the time I spent having fun behind a microphone. It recalls how I decided to get into radio. Time Frame: 1981-1982

My life had become confusing, unclear, and somewhat melancholy. I was 23 years old and back at home living with my parents. This situation had arisen because my academic adviser at the University of Missouri’s School of Journalism, where I had been attending, had politely suggested that I take some time off or pursue a different major. It seems that the J-school had learned about my grades falling below the minimal GPA requirement of 2.0. (It was the “D” I received from taking an introductory news-writing course called ‘News 105’. This course was a bear of a class the school used to weed out students. Several years later, by the way, I retook the course and ‘aced’ it.)

Living up their loving and nurturing roles, my parents, particularly my mother, expressed concerns about my uncertain future. Periodically, they offered ideas on schools and career paths they thought suited me. My father fancied the idea of me attending a school that offered a degree in hotel and restaurant management. Being the child of privilege, I took their offerings for granted. In retrospect, I realize how lucky I was to have all these opportunities.

Perhaps it was due to their advertising saturation of the St. Louis television market or perhaps it was because they offered something that, at least on the surface, tied in with my journalism education. Whatever it was, my mother, unexpectedly, suggested I ought to look into what the Broadcast Center had to offer. The Broadcast Center was and is, mostly, a local trade school that trained people how to be radio disc jockeys. I paid them a visit and they sold me. They appeared to have a proven record of accomplishment as they boasted having graduates working all over the country. Additionally, they had some well-known St. Louis deejays working as instructors, such as ‘Radio’ Rich Dalton of KSHE 95. Moreover, the Broadcast Center had some well-known speakers come to the school to present seminars on various broadcasting topics. (I met Bob Costas, who is a St. Louis area resident, when he conducted a seminar on sports announcing.)

The school won over my parents with their implicit promise of finding graduates an actual job in the broadcasting industry with their free placement service. Thus, I started attending the Broadcast Center. For ‘class’, I recorded myself reading aloud samples of both news and advertising copy. After doing this repeatedly, an instructor would come into my booth and review my annunciation. Before attending the Broadcast Center, I used to say ‘hunerd’, doubie-yuh and ‘couny’ instead of ‘hundred’, ‘double-you’ and ‘county’. The school also had a studio that could almost pass for a real-life deejay booth. I learned how to operate and record cartridges, cue up records (this was still the early 80s, folks!) and talk into a mike. After doing this for about a year, I earned a ‘Certificate of Proficiency’.

I was ready to start working.


Coming...Radio Days (Part II): Florida and My First Gig

Utter Hypocrisy

The utter hypocrisy those on the right display never ceases to amaze me. This fact has become especially more evident lately as their mouthpieces on talk radio and Fox News steadily rail against the labor protesters in Wisconsin, who are voicing their opposition to a proposal to ban collective bargaining for some 300,000 workers.

Right wingers rant about the so-called "excesses" that unions have won through many years of this legal process. Yet, most of these same people don't bat an eye when Wall Street moguls still collect 7-figure bonuses after getting their asses bailed out by taxpayers.

Why is it that whenever we begin talking about curbing the deficit the first option always seems to be slashing spending on programs that benefit the poor and middle class? Folks, there's lots more fat to trim at the top.

Instruction Manual FAIL!

The most ineffective set of instructions that I’ve ever had the misfortune of having to use was a printed-paper document that I received inside a package of an off-brand cell phone, which I bought about ten years ago. Now, the instructions appeared to be legitimate as they came with step-by-step, chronological sketch drawings explaining how to activate the product. The problem, however, was that the accompanying text was written in KOREAN! (I think.)

Unfortunately, I know only English. Therefore, I had to rely on the sketchy drawings and my common sense. As it turned out, luckily, that combination proved to be enough as I was able to get the cheap phone to work.

Rethinking Big-time Sports…

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m as intense as one comes when it comes to following marquee professional sports in the United States. Since I was a young child, I’ve passionately followed the ebb and flow of sports seasons by fiercely declaring allegiance to my home team. Those teams operated exclusively within the realm of St. Louis during my youth, but more recently, my list grew to include teams from Indiana as well. One sure fire way one could get on my bad side was to speak ill of one of my teams.

Lately, however, I’m beginning to suspect that big-ticket professional sports have skewed many peoples’ priorities and values. I feel several recent events have given me reason to question how our culture has placed so much prominence on it.

I think Super Bowl XLV put the wheels in motion. Yes, I had low expectations for this year’s extravaganza from Dallas as neither the Pittsburgh Steelers nor the Green Bay Packers elicit anything more than yawns from me. In all fairness though, it wasn’t the quality of play in the game as it was quite good.

No, I think what actually changed my perspective actually happened before the Super Bowl in what seemed to be a never-ending pre-game show. Sometime during FOX's parade of corny and overly sentimental packages about anything even slightly relevant, I began to notice how the Super Bowl has become an event by, for and of the super-rich. I realize that this is hardly a new development. Perhaps, it became more evident to me this year because of my indifference to the game.

I believe this revelation came to me while FOX’s sports commentators were serving up a monumental softball interview to Dallas Cowboys owner, Jerry Jones, to discuss his relatively new $1-billion-dollar toy built mostly at taxpayer expense called Cowboys Stadium. This 95,000-seat cathedral is a shrine to corporate excess and its amenities would make King Louis XVI, Marie-Antoinette and the entire House of Bourbon feel right at home. I’m surprised FOX’s reporters didn’t address Jones as “your majesty” during the sickening interview. (It’s too bad President Obama didn’t get anywhere close to that kind of respect during his subsequent interview on FOX.)

It just seemed to me that this self-congratulatory, pampered owner and these admiring, seven-figure income sports announcers were a little too out of touch singing the praises of a stadium that provides access to other people from the same wealthy class. The average ticket price for Super Bowl XLV was $3500 dollars!

I realize that it’s the Super Bowl. But, seriously…$3500 dollars to attend one football game?!? What percentage of the American people can afford that? I think I could treat my family to a weeklong vacation in the Bahamas or buy a decent used pickup truck for less.

Of course, stratospheric ticket prices aren’t exclusive to just the Super Bowl or NFL football. And Cowboys Stadium isn’t the only overpriced facility built on the backs of working Americans, most of whom will never be able to see a live game at one of these venues unless they win the lottery.

And this is what I really find disenchanting and downright appalling about professional sports these days: the fact that these billionaire team owners receive massive amounts of public funding to pay for their stadiums and arenas. Never have authorities transferred so much public money for so little economic benefit to so many billionaires who don’t need it. Meanwhile, states and municipalities are slashing funding for much-needed social services to the bare bones.

Like other realms of corporate America today, it seems professional sports has gotten too big to fail. The owners have no incentive to lower ticket prices so that regular working class American can attend. Using ticket purchases as tax write offs, corporations have paid off luxury suites years in advance for their CEO’s and upper management. Plus, team owners have the added income bonus generated from television advertising revenue.

I really enjoy watching sports. But lately, it seems it has become a reeking cash cow for the filthy rich. Perhaps, I’d be better off investing my emotions in something else.

Ice Storm 2011: A Few Thoughts and Reflections

Local weather forecasters began talking about it almost a week before it arrived as two huge low-pressure systems began forming over New Mexico and eastern Texas respectively. As it became clear that most of the nation would start the month of February off by being slammed with a major winter storm, people prepared for the inevitable by depleting stores of food, milk and supplies…and by forming social networking, groups called “Snowpocalypse 2011” on Facebook.

As it turned out, my home in west-central Indiana lay at the southern edge of the winter storm, but apparently, that wasn't "southern" enough to escape the mayhem. Instead of the thick blankets of snow, which most of the Midwest experienced, our show, here at home, was an inch-and-a-quarter coating of ice over everything.

Unfortunately, electrical engineers still haven't designed power lines that can sustain the weight of such huge quantities of ice. Moreover, it was about 7:30 on Tuesday night (February 1st) amid heavy freezing rain, sleet and high winds when I noticed about a half dozen flashes of light. I first thought it was lightning, but then reluctantly acknowledged the flashes were due to transformers blowing out. Within minutes, our lights began flickering and then ceased to work at all. No more TV, microwave, lights, heat, hot water…and OMG, internet. My family, neighborhood and town were feeling nature’s rage as it decided to make a statement that night.

After 36 hours, we finally had our power restored late Thursday morning (February 3rd). When we arrived home from our overnight stay at the Holiday Inn, we could see our breaths while sitting in our living room. It got down to around 10 degrees the night before and I think our dog and our cat were happier about our return than we were. (The motel stay was rough with the indoor pool, hot tub and room service...LOL!)

Seriously, it is good to be home and at least the food in the fridge didn't go bad!

“Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,
and I say it's all right
It's all right.” – the Beatles

The 'Art' of Typography

I really like this visual that I decided to use for part of my PowerPoint presentation.

For those of who haven’t yet looked closely enough, it’s a visual displaying the image of rock legend Jimi Hendrix via the use of printed letters. I found it when I Google searched the word 'typography' for images. Typography is one of the terms I chose to use in my PowerPoint presentation.

I really believe this image sums up, in one quick glance, the intended message from its designer. Typography is an art. This image, and others like it, is available at “11 Handpicked Awesome Typography Art” .

Academia and Forklifts

I’ve found, in some unlikely situations, hands-on value in some of the abstract concepts and critical thinking skills I learned from my earlier scholarly pursuits in college.

About 20 years ago, I earned a Bachelor's degree in journalism with a minor in political science from the University of Missouri. Courses in literature, English and the social sciences made up the core of my curriculum. I sidestepped taking any math and science classes.

Yes, my lack of technical expertise did put some constraints on what kind of jobs I could get after graduation. However, I was able to apply language and critical thinking skills to understanding the meanings of words and concepts, and thereby understand new concepts and instructions in the workplace more easily and quickly.

Perhaps, it's not surprising that I used this advantage in landing many of the jobs I landed immediately after graduating, which were in radio broadcasting. However, as the years passed, my career path took many twists and turns. I’ve used this proficiency to my advantage in some of my more recent jobs in the most unlikely of settings, such as driving a fork truck on a shipping and receiving dock. Because of my indirect and veiled educational benefit, I can remember numerous times defending my schooling as a worthwhile undertaking to my factory co-workers.

I’m hoping, however, to remove some of the constraints I've faced in many of my workplaces by making up some of the technical deficiencies I have with my technical management education I'm presently getting from DeVry University. This is especially true for me in information technology.

My Brother

When I was four years old, I was convinced that Santa Claus existed. Moreover, it seems the imaginary hero paid a special visit that year (1961?) to our home in suburban St. Louis for Christmas. However, it was none other than my, then, 10-year-old brother, Tom, who wore that homemade red outfit along with those dime store costume whiskers.


Of course, I knew it was Tom. (The real Santa was down at the local shopping center!) Nevertheless, it did not matter. My next older brother, Tim and I enjoyed playing along because Tom hammed up the part so well. He wanted so bad to be Santa Claus to us, and he really made the role come alive.


Now, I don't recall any of the toys or material items I was given, but I will never forget that Christmas from my early childhood because of Tom’s kindhearted and selfless gift. Tom knew I was all about Santa Claus that year, and he went out of his way to make me feel special by making the fantasy come alive for me as best as he could.


Throughout his life, Tom has had this brilliant, creative flair for storytelling and acting. I remember spending many hours with him in his room listening to records . My father liked Classical music, and Tom took one of his LP's, Stravinsky’s ‘Firebird Suite’, and added a wonderful tale of his own making to go along with the soundtrack. The story was spellbinding, and Tom told it so well. I remember asking him to recite it repeatedly.


With the exception of a possible e-mail once or twice a year, I have, unfortunately, lost almost all contact with Tom through the passage of years. Several years ago, I learned recently that he had been battling clinical depression. Now, as he approaches 60, things for Tom have suddenly taken a dramatic turn for the worse. Doctors have recently diagnosed him as having brain atrophy. Apparently, there is no cure for it, and Tom won’t be to live independently for the rest of his life.


What a hideous turn of events! I’m not certain how much I believe in the power of prayer. Nevertheless, I plan to seek guidance from my higher power for hope and wisdom. I don’t believe all is lost. Perhaps, scientists will discover a remedy or technology that will slow, stall and possibly reverse this insidious disease that taking away my brother’s beautiful mind.

I'm just not buying it...

This false equivalency opinion, which basically says both the left and right are guilty of recent violent rhetoric, really burns my ass. So many pundits and politicians, particularly Republicans, have adopted this line. I, personally, don't see it that way. Sure, some fringe leftist blogger somewhere may have said or written something violent.



But, I defy anyone to name a Democratic politician who has said something like:



"Don't retreat, reload" -Sarah Palin (as reported on CBS News).



or "People are really looking for Second Amendment remedies...we need to take [U.S. Senator] Harry Reid out." - failed Senate candidate Sharron Angle (as reported on MSNBC's Rachel Maddow Show.



This link provides a rather lengthy rundown of some of the inflammatory rhetoric coming from right wing commentators, activists and politicians during the last two-and-a-half years.

http://www.csgv.org/issues-and-campaigns/guns-democracy-and-freedom/insurrection-timeline

I'm pretty sure one can't find a similar list of violent rhetoric coming from the left.