Jeff

Before we get into this one, check out that photo. I snapped it a couple of nights ago at a Cracker Barrel in Wilkes-Barre. It’s the Cheesy Bacon Homestyle Chicken, with steamed broccoli and a loaded baked potato, along with (needless to say) bottomless sweet tea. I always hear people say they “hate” the Barrel, but how? I mean, I realize that’s probably not the most healthy thing I could’ve ordered. But I’m a portly lad with portly needs. It’s on me, not the restaurant. And it was delicious; I wish had the same spread in front of me right now. PLUS! It cost roughly the same as a so-called meal “deal” at Subway. That’s not an exaggeration. In fact, this might have cost less. Have you been to Subway lately? It’s the same level of terribleness we’ve grown accustomed to, with new premium prices.

Anyway, that’s not the point of this post. While I was sitting in there waiting for my food to arrive, I started wondering how many people would have a problem visiting such a place by themselves. I do it regularly, and don’t think a thing about it. I just roll in there and tell the woman behind the podium, “Just me!” without a care in the world. But I know people who have hang-ups about doing certain things alone. Some won’t even go into a McDonald’s alone. I mean, whose opinion are you so concerned about inside a McDonald’s? The big mama in a Flashdance t-shirt hollering at her rambunctious shitty kids? The bushy-bearded man mumbling a repeated series of numbers to himself and sipping a 250-degree coffee?

I might not go to a Gordon Ramsay-level restaurant by myself, but then again… I might. I don’t really have a problem with it, at all. Also, when I lived in Atlanta I went to see bands alone on a regular basis. Club shows, mostly. I can’t remember ever going solo at a big arena concert, like U2 or Metallica, or something like. But I had no issue going to club or theater shows alone. I did it all the time.

And movies? Not an issue. In fact, it’s often preferred. I’ve also gone to baseball games alone. I’ve gone to see the local Railriders play a few times, unaccompanied. Heck, I even went to see the Reds alone, last time Toney and I were in Cincinnati. We’d spent the day in the blazing sun, at a big tennis tournament, and she was zapped. She said she was done for the day, so I went and watched the Reds and Cardinals (I think). It was fun!

The one thing I did alone, which I might not ever do again, is go on vacation. One year we couldn’t go at the same time, due to circumstances, so Toney and I both took trips alone. It was weird, and I didn’t like it. I went to Long Beach Island in New Jersey. I had no issue with the locale, or the hotel, or anything like that. I just didn’t enjoy being at the beach by myself. It was boring. In fact, I started getting a little depressed after a while. Never again. Oh, I can do day-trips by myself — like to Cooperstown or whatever — but not full-blown vacations. I was ready to strip down naked and walk into the sea.

What are your thoughts on this one? Are you able to fly solo at restaurants, and other places? I know many people who cannot. Please tell us about it in the comments.

And I’ll see you guys again soon.

Have a great day!

Support the Surf Report with a monthly $4 donation at Patreon, and get an extra podcast episode every week! Or you can just buy me a beer if you’d like. I’d be much obliged. In Canada? Do your shopping at Amazon! Thank you, guys!

In this episode of the podcast I tell you about the cheap gas they were selling at Sheetz on the 4th of the July and the calamity it caused, the changes I made to the Surf Report website, and two day-trips I took last week:

• To Philly to see one of my favorite bands, The Eels
• To Baltimore for a Reds vs Orioles game, my first trip to Camden Yards

Both were great, but one didn’t go exactly as planned. By a longshot.

I hope you enjoy it, thanks for listening!

A few photos from the excursions:

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Support the Surf Report with a monthly $4 donation at Patreon, and get an extra podcast episode every week! Or you can just buy me a beer if you’d like. I’d be much obliged. In Canada? Do your shopping at Amazon! Thank you, guys!

One of my Dunbar friends, Tim Smith, recently retired, which made me jealous. Well, not jealous, exactly. I’m happy for him, and don’t begrudge him the accomplishment. But I wish I could join him; I’m emotionally, spiritually and physically ready. In any case, you might remember that he’s been drip-feeding us detailed statistics about the 1970s TV series Cannon. He sent in three seasons-worth, compiled over several years. But since the retirement… we suddenly have the entire five-year stats! He powered through the remainder of the DVD box set in short order. Here are the results:

As you might recall, Frank Cannon was a portly gentleman. During the ’70s they had a bunch of private investigator/detective shows, and there was usually a hook of some sort. Barnaby Jones was the old one, Ironside was the one in a wheelchair, McCloud was the urban cowboy, Kojak was the bald one. And Cannon? He was the fat one.

But did it slow him down? Clearly not. Check out those numbers. He got himself into 103 fist fights in five years. Just think about that. 103!! I haven’t been in a fight since high school. Cannon, who was morbidly obese, engaged in fisticuffs every 18 days on the average, for five years. Maybe he should’ve been known as Frank “Loose” Cannon? Am I right?

And I brought this up before, but I always hear about cops retiring after 25 or 30 years of service, and it’s mentioned that they never fired their guns in the line of duty. Not once. Cannon, on the other hand, fired his an astonishing 183 times in half a decade. Shouldn’t there have been some kind of investigation? The man was running wide open. Soldiers fighting the Nazis in WWII probably didn’t shoot their guns that often. He was also amazingly accurate, hitting his target 45% of the time. That’s a lot of people showing up at the ER with bullet wounds, all at the hands of one man. How was he not thrown into prison??

In his defense, however, others shot at Cannon nearly 300 times during five years. But he was so nimble — a prancing sprite of a man — he was only hit 4% of the time. That sounds pretty good, but it still adds up to a single person being shot 13 times. For most people that would be a devastating and debilitating turn of events. But Cannon just returned to his fashionable apartment, popped on a chef’s hat, and prepared another scrumptious gourmet meal. You know, after being shot again and again and again.

All of those stats are wild, but the one that bothers me the most is the number of times Frank was knocked unconscious. Twenty times in five years! That can’t be good. You can’t just go around sustaining violent blows to the head so severe you black out. If that happened to me once, I’d be super-traumatized and paranoid for the rest of my life. But not Cannon, he’s knocked out, throws haymakers, shoots people, sustains bullet wounds across his great body, crashes his car and administers karate chops all willy-nilly. And he’s in terrible shape to begin with! The man has a 50-inch waist, for god’s sake.

Thanks Tim, for this Pulitzer-caliber contribution to investigative journalism. And congrats on the retirement! I’m happy you’re using your free time in a similar way as I would.

Support the Surf Report with a monthly $4 donation at Patreon, and get an extra podcast episode every week! Or you can just buy me a beer if you’d like. I’d be much obliged. In Canada? Do your shopping at Amazon! Thank you, guys!

I recently spent some time with Nancy and Nostrils, including a couple of hours at a swimming pool. Needless to say, I didn’t disrobe for humanitarian reasons. But I did witness something that day that shocked and perplexed me. I still can’t figure it out. I asked Toney about it and she just shrugged, and seemed bewildered by the fact I zeroed in on such a detail. But this was huge! It was like seeing an alien in the gray flesh, or waking up in 1863 and witnessing the Gettysburg Address. I didn’t know where to turn for explanations, so I decided to open an account with ChatGPT and see what so-called Artificial Intelligence could offer on the subject. Here’s the response I received:

So, as you can see, not even our future overlords can make sense of this. Not at this late date anyway, with so much Burt Reynolds-level pit pelts in the rear-view mirror. It’s blowing my mind, man! What is going on?! Why now?? Can someone get George Noory on the blower, stat?

Support the Surf Report with a monthly $4 donation at Patreon, and get an extra podcast episode every week! Or you can just buy me a beer if you’d like. I’d be much obliged. In Canada? Do your shopping at Amazon! Thank you, guys!