I’ve got to be more consistent about telling you about some of the emails that come in between these blogs and podcasts. For example, Proud Podcast Participant, Mike T. said, “I have finally understood the basic message that Big Louie, his own bad self, the Chief Mustard Cutter of the Louie-Louie generation has been trying to get across. Big Louie dreams of a better world, where chickens can cross a road without having their motives questioned.”
Well…yeah…I guess you could say that’s part of the point. But I think a bit more of the point is that Louie-Louie Generation Lads and Ladies understand the many uses to which that chicken’s feathers can be put to use when making out. That’s not weird either. Although it might be considered a little out of control if you get so excited you start using the whole chicken.
The Pimple People can’t understand us. And they won’t have anything to do with us, because we still read books. They think a nap should be our happy hour. They’re convinced that all our sexy parts have fallen off. They haven’t. They may be rolling around a little…but they’re not falling off. And we know how to use them. We confuse the Pimple People, because we’re not into Archie and Edith Bunker type dried up, old relationships. We’re not into relationships at all. We’re into romances. As Big Louie, the Chief Mustard Cutter of the Louie-Louie Generation always says, “Relationships are full of careful choices, painful compromises, and mutual goals. Romances are full of hope, and fear, and sweat…and lots of stuff that makes the politically correct forces for good in the community blush.” They’re not shiny and pure. They get down in the good, hot, human mud, and roll around. I guess that when you become a Louie-Louie Generation lad or lady, it becomes obvious that life will eventually turn you into either one of the 3 Stooges, or one of the 3 Musketeers. And it’s mostly your choice. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t ever plan on being ANYBODY’s stooge.
Dick’s Details Quiz. All answers are in the current podcast.
1- What baseball routine reminds me of a drunken basketball team?
2- What could be Arnold Schwartzenneger’s secret weapon in case he does another super hero movie ?
3- What did Admiral Richard Byrd’s friends call him ?
Dick’s Details. They take your mind off your mind.
Emails. The address is dick@dicksummer.com. I read and answer them all. Here’s one from Proud Podcast Participant Scott E. It got me thinking about how we need mud in our lives. By “mud,” I mean imperfections…not terrible stuff…but sometimes…simple, human, naughty stuff. Scott is doing a book about Jack Nicholson, and he says in part, “I was curious if you had any feelings for the kind of characters he played…either related to your own work and style, or just as a broadcasting professional.” Interesting note. Here’s part of what I told Scott: “Mucking around in the roles that Jack Nicholson played is going to get you into some pretty deep mud. I think he’s one of the guys who plays himself for real. There have been others who played the ‘Self’ they wanted the public to see. Bogart…Grant…guys like that who played their parts to P.R. Perfection. I have a hunch that Nicholson had the guts to drop his drawers…right down into the mud that real human beings are made of. That’s what it says in the Good Book. God grabbed a handful of mud, and said, “Get a life.” No dirt…no mud. No mud…no life. Jack Nicholson had the courage to show us his own, genuine, emotional personal parts. Mud and all. I like mud. The sticky, warm, human kind.
And it’s getting rare. Certainly in the media. Except for Diane Sawyer. Diane Sawyer is definitely sticky, warm and human. She manages to tell the news in no nonsense fashion, but she is always either your wife, your girlfriend, your sister, or your mom depending on the story. She’s a living, breathing, real, human being. And she behaves like one. But I was watching Chris Wallace the other night, and he was showing an interview he did with his father, Mike Wallace a while ago. At the end of the interview, Mike said…”Chris…I love you.” It just blurted out. It wasn’t careful, considered, or contrived. It was an honest, proud, gutsy dad, watching his son trying to fill those big poppa shoes. Mike was that way. Chris isn’t. He kept that precious, muddy, moment of truth at arms length. No mud on Chris. He finished the piece on his dead father like any reporter…straight, ahead, clean, pure…a professional newsman, noting the death of an important person. His father. How sad.”
That brought up the other point that Scott was asking about. I told Scott, that, “I hurt for radio right now. The only thing radio has to offer is…companionship…being a friend. You put an ear piece right into your ear to listen…no other medium can get that physically close. But it’s not happening. Radio is doing a Chris Wallace. When I was on the air, I considered my listeners to be part of my, ‘huddle.’ I was the quarterback, and we were all gathered around for mutual protection. And the big goal was, no matter how muddy and hurt we might be feeling, we were going to make it through the night to dawn…together.”
There’s a story about making it through one startling human night, in the Bedtime Stories Personal Audio CD. It’s called, The Perfect Stranger. She’s a good lady…the lady in the story. She’ll be faithful to her husband. She’ll give him every bit of herself…her body and her mind. Well…except maybe…for that little… magnificent…magical…muddy speck that she might keep…and hold…privately…deep in her heart. I think most of us have a little speck of mud like that…hidden away…very deep inside. Even my Lady Wonder Wench…and me.
The Perfect Stranger is from the Bedtime Stories Personal Audio CD. If you like it, you can just keep the current podcast. Or if you want a fresh copy, just download it from the Bedtime Stories icon on the home page at www.dicksummer.com .
I’m looking forward to more emails from you. Tell me what you think. The address is dick at dick summer dot com. You know what I think ? I think most real, live, breathing, romances including my own, aren’t shining and pure…made of careful choices, painful compromises, and mutual goals. They’re made of hope, and sweat, and fear and flesh…and stuff that makes the forces for good in the community blush. Mud.
And that’s what I wish for you. That, and the experience of at least one hour…of one shocking night…of happy, laughing, crying, rolling around together in some hot, sticky, human mud…at least once in your life.