Yep, it was too hot for amusement. Last time I mentioned we were going to Knoebels, and it was supposed to be one of the hottest days in (I think I have this right) human existence. And “they” were right. Yowza! It was the kind of oppressive heat that just leaches all the energy, optimism, and survival instincts from a person. It felt like my outsize body was just sucking up the hot and storing it in my ass and gut meat.

But we endured for a few hours. And then a hell-storm rolled through. We noticed the sky turning menacing, so we took shelter in a big covered eatery called The Oasis. Toney and I were sitting there, somebody screamed, and stuff started flying around. Then a blast of hot air hit us, and it was filled with sand and dust. Both my eyes were instantly on fire and I was coughing like the tuberculosis had taken hold. As soon as I regained my composure bolts of lightning started coming down and it sounded like shit was blowing up.

Oh, it was a great day, I’m telling you. I didn’t even get my BLT. Grrr… I did have some cheese fries (an automatic must) and Toney and I shared a weird Southern sweet tea slushie thing we love. But that’s all the eating I could fit in, ’cause the day was cut short. After the storm everything was wet and many of the rides didn’t even re-open, so the boys were fine with leaving. Thank God.

And get this! We made our way to Cracker Barrel for dinner, as is the tradition, and they were all out of the Campfire Meals. WTS? They advertise them every seven minutes, but when you go there they don’t actually have them? I was annoyed but quickly adapted. It’s easy for a man of my size and disposition to adapt at a Cracker Barrel.

But it was an unsatisfactory day. Not a complete disaster — we got a few hours of broiling “fun” out of it — but it could’ve been better. Ya know? Hey, whatever. I’ve reached a point where I just roll with just about everything. I don’t have the energy for any, you know, honest to goodness emotions at this point. Pass the beer nuts.

Under what circumstances have you experienced the highest temperatures in your life so far? Please tell us about them in the comments.

This week I finished the final season of The Americans. Holy shit! It’s without a doubt one of the best shows ever, and the final season might have been the best of its entire run. Every episode was fantastic, and the final installment was like great literature. Oh, it was exciting and crazy, but also super-smart and well-executed. I can’t recommend the show strongly enough. One of my all-time favorites.

In fact, if somebody were to ask for my favorite TV shows of all-time, I’d list (in no particular order): The Americans, The Sopranos, LOST, Breaking Bad, Deadwood, Homicide: Life on the Streets, The Andy Griffith Show, Seinfeld, The Office, Late Night with David Letterman, Beavis and Butthead, and Green Acres. There are tons of others that I loved (Homeland, House of Cards, Freaks and Geeks) but the ones above are the core shows, I believe. I might’ve forgotten some? I’m not sure.

What would your core list look like? And can you name just one favorite from your list? I can’t. It’s impossible. Right?

I need to call it a day, my friends. More “opportunities” await me at work. They just keep on comin’.

I posted a new podcast episode at Patreon, a weekly thank-you to all 23 patrons who have pledged $4 or more per month. So, thank you guys! And remember, there’s always room for more.

This is the short description I wrote for it: A lack of mystery in today’s music, a guy wearing a Tabasco shirt, rampaging monkeys, and a gentleman known as Manwich Dick. Plus, a few other odds and ends. Mostly ends, to be honest. This is the first episode for patrons only. Thank you guys! Much appreciated. I hope you enjoy the show.

I’ll be back on Monday.

Have a fantastic weekend, boys and girls!

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Apparently we’re going to Knoebels today. A month or two ago we picked a random Monday, all four of us scheduled it off, and proclaimed it Knoebels day. And now that the random Monday has arrived, these are some reasons I don’t want to go:

• It’s hotter than the devil’s ball pouch out there. Supposedly the “heat index” is going to be 103 today. WTF? That doesn’t sound like fun, it sounds like sustained misery. Why not just spend the day at a steel mill?
• I didn’t sleep very well last night and don’t feel super-great. The thought of piling into a car and driving to an amusement park seems unlikely to me. Yet it’s going to happen? …’Cause we’re a slave to an arbitrary date on a calendar? Should be fun.
• I think I’ve officially reached a point where I have no interest in ridin’ shit. Ya know? The Phoenix roller coaster is fun and world famous, but it’s made for tiny 1947 asses. I have to sit tilted to one side because I fill up 150% of the space. And the rest of it’s just not all that much fun anymore. The log flume thing? Eh. Who wants to walk around covered in sticky hepatitis water all day?

However, these are some reasons I DO want to go:

• Apparently, they have a new BLT shack, where you can buy big honkin’ BLTs?
• We usually stop at Cracker Barrel on the way home.

So, if there’s any motivation at all, it’s 100% food-based. We’ll see what happens. I guess it’ll be worth it if we get a Cracker Barrel visit out of it. They’re serving the Campfire Meals again. Shit! Can’t wait to go to Knoebels!!

Speaking of high heat and amusement parks, I remember being at King’s Island a million years ago with an ex-girlfriend. We were on The Beast, which is one of the craziest things in the world. And you know how people like to put their hands up in the air on roller coasters, to prove their badassery or whatever? Well, when this one dude lifted his arms a stench was released that would’ve brought Andre the Giant to his knees. Everybody within a 20-foot radius of Pit Zero just instantly howled in protest and their faces went all distorted with disgust. I don’t know why stuff like that makes me laugh, but I couldn’t stop all day long. Every time I thought about it I’d start cracking up again. Wotta shitbag.

On Saturday I sent a test email to the old mailing list. I think it had been two years or more since I’d sent anything out. In fact, at some point I moved it to MailChimp and ditched the expensive service I’d been paying for and not really using. And that probably happened more than a year ago. So, I didn’t know what the results would be. I figured many email addresses would bounce, and that a substantial number of people would unsubscribe. In fact, I invited folks to unsubscribe, ’cause I don’t want people on there who don’t wanna be included. Right? Well… here are the results so far:

• 1717 emails sent
• 92 bounced
• 17 unsubscribed

However, at this point, only about 40% of the emails have even been opened. So, the unsubscribe number could continue to climb. And that’s fine. If you didn’t receive the Saturday email and would like to be included in the Surf Report mailing list, here’s your form. You won’t receive many messages from me, but I’ll keep you updated whenever something notable happens.

Also, be sure to check out the questionable new “podcast” right here. Three episodes in the can! Hey, if nothing else… the intro music is cool.

I’ll leave you now with a couple of Questions. And since I’m bullet-pointing all my shit today, let’s keep it going.

• In the comments section please complete this sentence “It’s hotter than…” Sometimes I say hotter than owl piss, and I swore I heard somebody say that as a kid. But when I do a Google search for the phrase it’s all Surf Report. Seems unlikely. Anyway, help me out with that apt phrase, won’t you?
• Also, if you have any tales to tell about horrible stenches in public places, I definitely want to hear it. The older boy told me a co-worker “shit himself” a few days ago at work. Said it smelled horrendous. How does something like that happen?? I’m glad it does, but how? So, if you have anything on that subject, please share.

And I’m going to call it a day, my friends.

I’ll be back on Thursday.

Have a great one!

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Before we get started, once again, I have a fresh new episode of the podcast that’s (not) sweeping the nation, for ya. This is the last installment that will be available to everyone, and I’m reasonably OK with how it turned out. Oh, I have a black belt in beating the shit out of myself. But it went fairly well, I think. Check out episode 3 of The Jeff Kay Show, right here.

Starting with number 4 the “show” will be accessible to anyone who pledges $4 or more at Patreon. It’s an interesting and fun way for me to say thank you to the folks who choose to be a patron. I’m enjoying it, and hopefully you guys are, as well. I’m viewing it as a challenge. I want to get to the point where I’m halfway decent at it. Not sure if that’s attainable, but it’s my dream, boys and girls. Please stay tuned.

And by the way, the next one is already recorded. The guy who does production work for me is going out of town next week, so I had to do two this week. Number 4 is far and away the most ridiculous and freewheeling episode yet. I recorded it immediately after I finished the new one above, and it was difficult to talk that much. My mouth was getting dry and it was… something else. Now I know why talk shows take callers or interview people. It gives the hosts a break! Talking for one hour straight is tougher than it seems.

Anyway, if you want to continue on this dubious journey with me, or would simply like to support my efforts, please pledge at least $4 per month at Patreon. Thank you, guys! Sincerely.

Last night at work everybody’s phones started shrieking with some kind of ungodly howl o’ the demon. TORNADO WARNING, mine informed me, and immediately we were told to get everyone into “the shelters.” They’re not really shelters, they’re just pre-determined interior rooms with no windows, etc. Needless to say, I was grumbling under my breath about this nonsense, this gross overreaction. We have work to do, goddammit!

But we all piled in together, and immediately the temperature started rising. It’s amazing how humans can heat up a space, lickety-split. Sweet Maria. And after about 20 minutes they announced the ALL CLEAR and everybody dispersed. However… ten minutes later it happened again. So we had to corral the entire population into the shelters and hunker down again. This time for about 45 minutes.

The whole time we were locked down I was texting Toney about how stupid it all was. She was confused because it was a beautiful summer night up where we lived. I was being exceedingly cynical about the entire exercise. But I had no way of knowing that Wilkes-Barre was now…. gone, or something. Check this shit out, from The Washington Post. And be sure to scroll through the photos at the bottom of this article.

Buildings are collapsed, cars are upside down. It’s wild. As I was driving home on the Devil’s Parkway I had to repeatedly pull to the side to let screaming emergency vehicles pass. And I could see from the interstate that there were roughly 10,000 (my unofficial estimate) police cars, fire trucks, and ambulances down around the mall. Craziness!

Yeah, all I know is… Cracker Barrel better be OK.

Have you ever been on lock-down at work, or anywhere else for that matter? When Toney and I were at WEA Atlanta there were bomb threats during the big Ice-T “Cop Killer” controversy, and we were repeatedly standing in the parking lot while they checked things out. One time, I remember, it was freezing cold out there and I shouted, “Ah, come on! The only bomb in that building is the new Madonna album.” That got a decent laugh.

And a few of my co-workers and I hunkered down during a robbery once at a grocery store in West Virginia. Masked bastards came in carrying shotguns and I nearly shat myself that night, my friends. Scary!

Do you have anything on lock-downs? For weather or anything else? Please use the comments section and I’ll be back on Monday.

Have yourselves a fine, fine weekend!

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The boys and I drove down to Philadelphia yesterday to see one of our favorite bands, The Eels. I’ve seen them at least eight times now, and this is the third time for the younglings. Always a blast. However… the 25-year-old me would’ve been appalled by the 55-year-old version. ‘Cause I spent a big hunk o’ yesterday kinda dreading the hassle of it. Ya know? I certainly wanted to see the show, but it’s such an ordeal… Just sitting on the couch, drinking a beer or four, and watching Beachfront Bargain Hunt with Toney sounded like a more pleasing option. It’s shocking, I know.

But the tickets were already purchased, and we were meeting Steve and his wife Myra down there. So we drove through a persistent rain to Philly and joined them at a bar a few doors down from Union Transfer, where the show would be happening. It was a place called Roy-Pitz Barrel House, for some reason, and they brew their own beer, etc. Cool place, with great music (Sex Pistols, Germs, Wire) cranking.

I had a fantastic idea there that I’m exceedingly proud of. Myra ordered some kind of macaroni and cheese with duck meat in it. And get this! I suggested they rebrand it quackaroni and cheese. Tell me that’s not perfect. Very proud.

I had two IPAs and some fries. Everything was good, and one of the owners even sat with us for a while. Nice dude. Great place.

The opening act was someone who bills himself as That 1 Guy. He plays a homemade instrument he’s dubbed “the magic pipe.” It looks like a long vacuum cleaner hose. Fairly bizarre, but he was certainly talented and got a lot out of his… pipe. He integrated a small amount of magic, as well as puppetry, into the show. Like I say, fairly bizarre. Check it out.

And the Eels just flat-out rocked the joint. You never know what version of the band you’re going to get, but this was the one I like the most: stripped down and rocking. No violas… no grand piano. And it was freaking loud too. So much fun! They played stuff from their entire catalog, including reworked versions of “Novocaine for the Soul” and “Mr. E’s Beautiful Blues.” It feels like they don’t play those very often. Fantastic show.

The leader, known as E, was hilarious throughout. After they blasted through four or five sped-up tunes right out of the gate, including a surprising cover of “Raspberry Beret,” he shouted, “I’m old as fuck! But goddamn, I rock!!” Later he assured us that what we were witnessing was a “display of badassery the likes of which most people have never experienced.” Heh. Everything he says is tongue in cheek. He also kept referring to Philadelphia as The Brotherly Apple. Some of that stuff is in this cell phone footage that’s surprisingly good.

I can’t find a setlist yet, but it was very close to the Boston show, right here. The picture above is from the Brooklyn show, the night before we saw them. I brazenly lifted it straight off Instagram. Nice photo, huh? By the way, I found out in his memoir that E is almost exactly the same age as I am. Old as fuck. Thanks for the confirmation!

The drive home was a real sphincter-pincher. It was POURING rain almost the entire way. There was water pooling on the turnpike, and it felt like I was going to hydroplane into the woods at any second. It sucked ass, fully and completely. It felt like it took seven hours and my shoulders were aching with tension.

But now that it’s in the rearview mirror, I’m definitely glad I went. It wasn’t without its aggravations, but I’ll only remember the show and the good times beforehand at the bar. The shitty stuff fades, for some reason. Right? Right.

I’m not running on all cylinders this morning, my friends. And I’m going to call it a day. Please be sure to check out the podcast if you haven’t already. Right here. Also, the exciting new site: Explanations for Aliens.

And I’ll leave you with a simple Question: What do you think the 25-year-old you would think of the current version? Any thoughts on that? Please use the comments.

And I’ll see you guys again on Thursday.

Have a great day!

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Before we get started on this dubious exercise, I want to alert you to a fresh-baked episode of the Jeff Kay Show podcast, right here. This time ’round I discuss an eavesdropping session at a breakfast buffet, the Circle of Life at a McDonald’s drive-through, and my pain-in-the-ass Lenovo computer. Please check it out and give me your… gentle feedback. And if you missed the first one, here it is.

I have a dude who does a super-light touch production on the podcast. I told him, even before the first episode was recorded, that I wanted it to remain rough. I don’t want some shiny polish on it; it should be more Ramones than Steely Dan. But he has free reign to clean up any major issues and is doing a bang-up job as far as I can tell. However, he told me he’s going to be on vacation in a couple of weeks, so I’m going to have to send him two episodes next week. We’ll see how that goes. Already the rhythm is being interrupted. And I’m not sure how many ums one person can generate in a single week. But we’ll find out.

Yesterday I opened the drawer in our kitchen where we keep the aluminum foil ‘n’ shit. I was getting ready to “cook” some mini tacos for lunch and needed some foil. But I was surprised to find a pack of wieners in there. They were opened, and four remained. Nathan’s in case you were wondering. And somebody put them in the foil drawer. WTF? I asked Toney about it and she said the older boy grilled some hotdogs the night before, and must’ve done it. How? I sometimes catch myself almost putting a half-gallon of ice cream in the pantry, or whatever, but never go all the way with it and just walk away. Are you familiar with this phenomenon? If so, please tell us about it in the comments. I don’t know for sure, and might be slandering the boy, but there is a small chance… just a tiny chance… that alcohol might have played a part in this. I’m just spitballing.

We’re completely out of cell phone data, the whole family, and it doesn’t refresh until 6/16. Man, that really boils my cabbage. Additional gigs cost an enormous amount, on top of the regular enormous amount we pay monthly. We almost never run out, but the Myrtle Beach trip killed us, I think. Plus, I listen to the Reds at work sometimes, so that doesn’t help. Grrr… Any idea how much unlimited data costs through Verizon? I could look myself, but I’m disgracefully lazy. I might have to give that Paul a call, over at Sprint. He seems like good people.

On Saturday Toney and I did a Costco run, where the mini tacos were procured (fukkin yum), and there was some dude in the parking lot doing a breathalyzer test for a passel of not-amused cops. This was at 1 pm or thereabouts. In a Costco parking lot. Wotta douche. All my breathalyzers have taken place after dark. I’m very proud of that fact. Actually, that’s a joke of sorts. I don’t think I’ve ever actually taken a breathalyzer test. I have, however, on several occasions been forced to touch my nose and walk a line, etc. Always after dark, thank you very much. And no DUIs. In fact, the last time it happened I was on my way home from work — at my current job — and the guy was CONVINCED I was drunk. Or he wanted me to be, or something. He put me through a whole battery o’ tests and I was stone cold sober. Until I got home, of course. Anything to share on this subject? Use the comments.

And I need to wrap it up, boys and girls. I put a couple of Questions in there, but I’ll leave you with another one. In the comments, if you’re so inclined, please tell us how you met your significant other. Or your ex, or whatever. I met Toney at work, at WEA Atlanta. Dating people from work probably isn’t the best idea, but we’re coming up on our 25th wedding anniversary. So, sometimes it pans out. What about you? Tell us all about it, if you want.

And I’ll be back on Monday with some more of this quality material.

See ya then!

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