368 days more to worry about until Five-O


blog pix 1 So, it’s Friday, Monday is only three days away – I’m telling ya folks, I’m going crazy, literally. I have no idea, what the hell I’m going to make my “BIG WISH” for, when Monday morning gets here? I have several ideas in mind, but if I told you what they were, “I’d have to kill ya – virtually,” not internally, but virtually, as if you were being written off the scene of a horrible crime – on paper. Oh wait, there’s no paper anymore, things are electronic now in ebooks! Crap, what was I thinking? – Who’s crying, “bloody murder?” It’s insane! Indeed!

Sure, I could wish for money, but that’s what everyone wishes for to begin with in the first place. I’ve got to do something literally, something insane, something more morally insane! Sure, I can hear my fellow writer friends Rick Dancer and Kelly Asay both saying, “shut up and write, Jeff!” – I could do that, than, there’s that crazy promo opening idea I’ve been trying to pass off to Rick, since he came back from “dead air” in his very first Rick Dancer TV Show, lol – I swear, I’m going to get shot here! Maybe worst, dumped over the ledge of the Pacific Ocean, as Writer Bob Welch preaches the erie ocean gods to keep my elegant body in it’s foggy grave of – “The Fog!”

Sure, there was a movie of the same name back in the 1970’s or ’80’s, but who’s craving for critters in the misty winds of ocean dampness of the fog?

I dunno? If being in front of a television camera is worth being behind a laptop and shelling out Oscars and Emmy’s is worth the chaos walking down the red carpet to accept an award? Hell, that’s morally insane than Tom Hanks with his fellow Ghostbusters getting slimed with the late Harold Ramus!

Than, there’s the “Wolf” – howling howls of the late “Wolfman Jack” is once remembered as a legend behind the full moon madness of late night radio. I can’t seem to forget those famous howls behind the studio mic every time I turned on the radio hearing, has the Wolfman branded his skills as a radio DJ during the 1970’s across the American heartland – in more ways, I can’t seem to forget about “Dr, Johnny Fever” at WKRP in Cincinnati who isn’t buying it more than “Venus Flytrap” and the luscious tastes of Loni Anderson keeping the tabs of radio life on the air in Cincinnati.

Maybe I’m old fashion at being forty-nine next week? Who knows? I’m just cranky at thinking, my life is about to enter a time warp when it comes to the big five-o (not Hawaiian Five-O) in 368 days from now. Sigh…!

To be continued in 2015.

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