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When I was a kid, I wanted to grow up to become a professional baseball player. I loved playing ball, and all of the adult men in my family seemed to respect it, too. When I wasn't playing ball, I'd be in my room, listening to the radio, and drawing up my own baseball cards. Collecting cards, too, was a wonderful hobby. The photographs on the fronts were nice, but I was more interested in the information on the backs. Even when UpperDeck came out with their glossy, action photos, Topps cards remained, in my mind, the absolute best. Topps cards listed all of the stats for every single…
I sat on the orange couch, grabbed the television remote, and flipped through the channels: 2, 4, 5, 7, 9, 11, and 13, 2, 4, 5, 7, 9, 11, and 13. The Mets weren't on. Meanwhile, Tom Glavine was struggling to become the 23rd pitcher in Major League Baseball history to win 300 games. I needed to know how he was doing.
I abandoned the television and undertook the four-and-a-half delicate steps required to reach my quiet bedroom. In the small closet, I located the old, blue and silver Philips portable radio and carefully lifted it from the floor. I plugged it into a socket behind my…
No, not the one in Minnesota (our sympathies to everyone there), but this one. Media Bistro has the back story on Merry Miller's Holly Hunter interview.
Got a problem with drug dealers? Use Mozart.
Crimeny as far as I know, dealers will sell in the rain, in the freezing cold, and in garbage festooned hallways. Does Seattle really believe that playing some classical music will stop 'em?
And will the Seattle budget allow royalties for 24/7 broadcast of recorded music? Should we call the RIAA?
Scientists have discovered that listening to music engages the areas of the brain involved with paying attention. Who'd a thunk?
Huckleberry reckons he might try that thinking stuff some day. Some other day.