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This is bullshit already. I’m starting to get this crap from every direction. At some point I’m just going to throw in the towel and embrace it. But not yet. It’s still new enough to piss me off and ruin my day. Everybody tells me not to worry about it and “just enjoy the discount.” I think that’s the exact wrong advice. Once you stop being offended it’s over. At some point my parents surrendered to it, but they fought valiantly for years. They didn’t just roll over at the first sign of trouble and start adding up their 40 cent discounts. No, “don’t worry about it” is horseshit. And Sue can pack it.

Also, check this out. This is the person Great Clips has on their website representing a senior citizen. Look at that guy! He makes my blood boil. Can’t you just see him at the block party talking about his investments, European golf vacations and extreme home improvements? And anyway, below is what people in their 20s actually see when they encounter anyone over the age of 45. Not Mr. Jauntily Glancing Over His Shoulder Douchebuckle Jones. Man, I’m getting all fired up.

As you might be able to tell, I’m working through some things. Heh. As mentioned last time, I’m now publishing a monthly column about various aspects of aging, from my particular point of view. Check it out at Substack. You can subscribe to receive each new column in your email, just visit the site every month, or ignore the whole thing altogether. It’s up to you. …Senior Haircut! Boy, that really smokes my halibut.

— Check out these photos taken by a dude with a cell phone, following the recent tornado devastation in Kentucky. That top one inside the theater, with the screen gone, is one of the best photographs I’ve seen in a while. That is amazing. Unforgettable, really.

I’m fairly terrified of tornadoes, always have been. I was in some kind of storm as a youngling, at Pirateland Campground in Myrtle Beach, where some campers were turned over and awnings were ripped clean off others, and sent sailing deep into North Carolina or somesuch. Scary! And when I was 9 the city of Xenia, Ohio was basically wiped off the map. It was in the news for days, and nobody could stop talking about it. All of that adds up to a deep-seated possibly irrational fear. Do you have anything like that?

— Have you read Larry David’s new piece about Christmas? Check it out. Man, that guy’s grumpier and more curmudgeonly than I am. Love it! I laughed out loud at the part about buying gifts (never without resentment). Hilarious. Reminds me of this all-time classic of misanthropy and bitterness. It’s one of the funniest books ever.

— Here’s a holiday classic from the Surf Report archives. The Terrifying Twenty: Santa Edition!

— And here are some photos I took while visiting the Christmas Story house in Cleveland a few years ago. This is a then and now comparison. To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t recommend a pilgrimage to that place. It takes roughly seven minutes to tour the house, and the neighborhood is shabby and fairly run down. There’s a big-ass gift shop though, if you’re into that kind of thing. Steve bought a full-sized leg lamp for something like $200. I think I purchased a postcard. Have you been there? What did you think?

I need to call it day, my friends. I hope you guys have a wonderful holiday. I’m just looking to get it into the rearview mirror, and push on toward Spring Training (if there is such a thing this year). In any case, I hope it’s pleasant for all of us.

I’ll see you again soon!

Support the Surf Report with a monthly $4 donation at Patreon, and get an extra podcast episode every week! Or you can buy me a beer. God knows I love the beer. In Canada? Do your shopping at Amazon! Thank you, guys!

I talked about this on the podcast recently, and would like to get your thoughts on the subject. I’d like to know what your favorite late night snacks are. I’ve mentioned that there’s not a moment of the day or night when I couldn’t eat a complete meal or lay down for a full night’s sleep. And that includes right after I’ve eaten a complete meal or had a full night’s sleep. So, I’m always hankering for one last food item before I climb atop the dormancy platform. And my favorites, as discussed in the episode, are:

• A bowl of cornflakes, with bananas (when available)
• Two slices of toast with apple butter
• A bowl of garden salad (Ian in Scotland called the hotline and mocked me for this one)
• A slice (or two) of cold leftover pizza

I mean, I’ll go with whatever I can get. But those are the ones I especially enjoy. I hear people talk about leftover Chinese food, but I never have any leftovers. Whatever I get, I power through it in short order. I have never, not once in my life, put uneaten Chinese food into a fridge. But apparently that’s a popular choice? What do you have on this? Please tell us about it in the comments.

Speaking of food, a brand new Chick-fil-A restaurant opened near us yesterday (I think). Check out this news report, it’s quite memorable. I love Chick-fil-A, but I’m not waiting two hours (or one hour, or one half-hour) for fast food. Ya know? It’s insanity. And I like the guy who says he’ll always be able to tell people he was there on the day they opened. Then added, for some reason, the word “ceremony.” This thing will probably take up two full pages in his scrapbook.

Also, I enjoy the fact that people are getting out of their cars and talking shit each other. Hilarious. I’m not going anywhere near that cluster. And that woman is right, it’s not temporary. It’s going to be like this for a long, long time. A new Chick-fil-A opened in Wilkes-Barre about a year and a half ago, and it’s still pandemonium. Just unbridled craziness. Like I said, I love Chick-fil-A, but not that much. There are few things I would wait two hours for, and a fast food sandwich is not on the list.

Finally, I posted an article at Substack yesterday. I’m planning to publish a new piece there, discussing some aspect of aging, on the first day of every month. You can check out the first one here. And this is some additional information. If you’d like the monthly column to be delivered directly to your email inbox, please feel free to sign up. Or you can read it (or not) at the Substack website each month. It’s totally up to you. I always liked the idea of writing a column, like the old newspaper guys. And since I find myself talking about “getting old” all the time… I thought that might be a good subject to tackle. And it’s only once per month, so I’m certainly not over-extending myself. Check it out if you’d like, and leave a comment or whatever. It’s just something I’m trying out. We’ll see how it goes.

And I’m going to work now. I’m still working funky-ass hours, and it’s taking its toll. But I’m sure I’ll survive, right?

Oh, and speaking of that, I got my booster shot yesterday. I feel completely normal, just like with the first two injections. But I don’t want to get too cocky and have my aorta blow-out or something. But, let’s just say… so far, so good.

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 buy me a beer. God knows I love the beer. In Canada? Do your shopping at Amazon! Thank you, guys!

I’m monkeying around with yet another ill-conceived side project (more to come on that someday, maybe), and wanted a cartoon version of my tiny Duke head for use there. So… whenever I need something like that I make a beeline for Fiverr. I’ve had a lot of luck with that site, and there have also been a few misfires. I mean, you’re generally not paying much, so you just have to read the reviews, look at the samples and hope for the best. Often the results exceed my expectations.

But take a look at what I received back today. Yep, another one for the MISFIRE folder. Sweet Maria! It looks like I’m wearing lipstick, suffering a rampaging goiter, and enduring a bout of dangerous brick-house constipation. Also, my hair doesn’t look like that. It reminds me of the plastic Devo hair (with chinstrap) from the New Traditionalists era. Who is this bulbous sweet potato-headed mofo?!

Sometimes I ask for a revision (or two), but this time I just paid the guy and walked away. He’s in Indonesia, and maybe the ten bucks will go farther there than it does here? I have no idea. But this shit is both hilarious and unsettling. And there’s no fixing it. Right? There would be no point in requesting a revision. The lips straight-up freak me out! Good Lord. Whenever I look at them I think they’re going to start moving, and I’ll hear the voice of Satan or perhaps Clutch Cargo.

Hey, you win some and you lose some. Especially at Fiverr. At least I get to share the disturbing thing with you guys, right?

Speaking of disturbing, did you see the video of a female singer pissing all over a man’s face onstage a few nights ago? If not, and you’re so inclined, check it out here. What are your thoughts? I’d like to know. I’ve been to a lot of shows in my time, but never witnessed anything like this. I saw the lead singer of a band called Five-Eight get completely naked onstage, which was… memorable. And I saw John Lydon show his bare ass to the audience for far too long. It was too much of a terrible thing. I mean, Angus Young always flashed his bare ass in concert, but ol’ Johnny Rotten thrust his out there and let everyone take a long gander. It’s not something I need in my memory banks, yet it’s there and probably will be forever.

But I have never seen a person urinate on the face of a willing audience member before. Did you see the way he was whipping his head from side to side like he was reveling in the experience? Also, that was quite a load she unleashed there. She’s clearly a well-hydrated young lady. Was there steam coming off of it? I think there might’ve been. Incredible! Apparently this little stunt didn’t go over as well as she’d hoped, and she’s apologizing all over the place.

You’d never catch the Statler Brothers doing something like that.

I’ve had three days off from work, but now it’s time to return. Ugh. I’ll see you guys again soon.

Have a great day, my friends!

Support the Surf Report with a monthly $4 donation at Patreon, and get an extra podcast episode every week! Or you can buy me a beer. God knows I love the beer. In Canada? Do your shopping at Amazon! Thank you, guys!

I’ve been working later than normal, on account of the nonsense, and was driving home a few nights ago after 1:30 am. I was on Interstate 81, Satan’s Superhighway, when I saw what looked like a dozen police cars, ambulances, fire trucks, etc. on the opposite side of the interstate. I was traveling northbound, and all of the southbound lanes were closed. And there was an enormous amount of activity going on over there, as well as a traffic back-up that went on for miles. Huh, not good, I thought, and turned up the Whitesnake or whatever.

But the next morning Toney asked if I’d seen anything while driving home the previous night. She said there was a wrong-way driver that crashed head-on into a tractor trailer, and one person was dead. “I did!” I shouted. Then we wondered, as we always do, how there are so many people entering major highways traveling in the wrong direction. And I added, as usual, my confusion about how people can’t just get out of the way of an oncoming car. “I think there’s a steering wheel in most vehicles!” I said, “Why can’t they just maneuver around it?”

Later, I read this article about the crash and it gave me a full-body shiver. Personally witnessing the enormous aftermath of it made it more real, of course. It’s horrible. I felt a little guilty for not waiting a minute or two, at least, before I goosed the volume on the hair metal.

The very next day, on Friday, I worked until 1:30 am again. And while I was driving home that terrible crash popped into my mind a couple of times during the 35 minute journey. But I was tired and annoyed and listening to an episode of Suspense, the old radio show. So, it wasn’t at the forefront of my mind. It just bubbled up every once in a while, and disappeared again. But near the end of the trip, as I was approaching my exit, some truly scary shit happened. And the previous night’s tragic event was front and center again.

I was approaching Clarks Summit, where I exit the Prince of Darkness Expressway, and… a small white or silver car went careening past me in the left lane going the wrong way! It was hauling ass southbound in the northbound lanes. If I wasn’t near the exit I might’ve been in the left lane too, who knows? And the part that really scared me? I didn’t see it until it was RIGHT THERE. For years I’ve wondered about that, but now I know. That guy was on me before I realized what was going on. The floor of my ass nearly fell out.

I’m sure all the color drained out of my face, to the point where even Jack White might’ve said, “Dude, you look a little pale.”

I mean, what the hell?? What is going on out there? I’ve been driving for more than 40 years and had never experienced such a thing. I was about to call 911 when I saw two police cars heading that direction with lights flashing, so I was reasonably sure they were aware. By the way, how do they stop someone traveling in the wrong direction on an interstate highway? How does that work? Regardless, it was very scary. Both of us traveling at 65 or 70, heading straight at each other? I’m going to take some possible liberties and say that it’s not ideal.

When I got home I quickly downloaded a police scanner app and tuned into the Lackawanna County Sheriff feed, or whatever it is. And I didn’t hear anything about it, so I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t listening to the right thing?

Anyway, have you ever encountered something like that? I don’t recommend it. It’s the worst non-snow-or-ice-related thing I’ve witnessed on 81 since a guy a couple of car lengths ahead of me BLASTED a giant deer that seemed to just appear out of nowhere a couple of years ago. It looked like the car just went straight through it, and turned the animal into a blood mist. It all came raining down on my car, and the next morning there was blood and fur all over the front two-thirds of my Chevy Cruze. That was also a Jack White moment. Sweet sainted mother of Ross Grimsley!

If you have any similar tales to tell, please share in the comments. Yikes!

And I’ll see you guys again soon. If you’re hankering for more, I did upload a fresh episode of the podcast today too, if you’re so inclined.

Have a great day, my friends!

Support the Surf Report with a monthly $4 donation at Patreon, and get an extra podcast episode every week! We’re also at Venmo (@thewvsr) and PayPal (jeff@thewvsr.com). In Canada? Do your shopping at Amazon! Thank you, guys!

Let’s go with 1998, shall we? What did you have going on during that year? Was it happy times… sad times… something in between? Please tell us about it in the comments. I’m sure some of you will make me feel like a broken down old sack and say something hurtful like, “I was in third grade.” For the record, I was 35 years old in 1998. And for some reason that terrifies me. Thirty-five is not exactly young, and it was a long time ago. So… connect the dots on that shit and you’ll get to the source of my concern.

In any case, we were living in California in this house:

It was in a town with two names: Canyon Country and Santa Clarita. Literally half of our mail was addressed to one, and the other half to the other. Is that not weird? Canyon Country sounded cooler to me, so that’s the one I used. The house was on a cul-de-sac and nearly everyone who lived there was involved in the entertainment industry in some way. There were a couple of construction guys who built sets on movie lots, a woman who was a professional shopper (if you can believe it) for doodads and accessories used on TV and movie sets, a writer for King of the Hill, and a full-time employee of Adam Sandler. Everybody had kids roughly the same age and they all played together, which was pretty cool. A couple of times per year we’d put road cones at the end of the street and have a big drunken block party.

That was the best part of the California adventure — our little neighborhood. However, there were problems there, too. For one thing it was always hotter than the devil’s peehole. Some days it would get up to 112 or 114. Insane! And there were all sorts of scary-ass creatures out there, like bizarre snakes and coyotes and prehistoric-looking birds that could swoop down and carry off a toddler or maybe even a Ford Festiva. Our garage was loaded with black widow spiders, and so were all the neighbors’ garages. I mean, WTF?? That’s far from ideal. But it was a neighborhood built in the high desert. What could go wrong?

Toney and I both worked in Burbank, at WEA Home Office:

I liked and admired the people I worked with, but the job wasn’t great. It was a giant music company, but we could’ve been selling umbrellas or light bulbs or underwear and wouldn’t have known the difference. When I worked for the same company at the Atlanta branch it was a party atmosphere, closer to what you’d think working for a record company would be. But home office? No. Just meeting after meeting after meeting. So freaking corporate… I didn’t care for it from the start. I liked the fact that the building was located directly across the street from the main gate of Warner Bros. Studio, and we had access. So we had lunch at the commissary many times. Or just walked around and checked things out. I encountered several celebs over there, including George Clooney, Drew Carey, and the entire cast of Friends.  That was undeniably fun.

An interesting bit of trivia: My direct boss at WEA home office had previously been in a band that was very popular in New England, that opened for the Rolling Stones on their 1965 U.S. tour(!). He’s the one on the right in this picture. He was great, one of my favorite bosses. Check out this song they recorded in 1964. Pure awesomeness.
Also, Toney was pregnant for most of that year with our second kid. She was working on a plan to leave WEA and start an in-home daycare business, which required tons of preparation, insurance policies, background checks, etc. This was a way to stay at home with the two younglings, and still have some income. I had to undergo an FBI background check myself, and submit to fingerprinting and all that jazz. Our second son was born in November, and she ran that daycare until we left in early 2000. It was horrific. Our home was transformed into a sustained-cacophony diaper and booger hut. I don’t think the 2021 Jeff Kay could handle that level of noise and chaos. But, you do what you gotta do. Right?

Here’s a picture of our two boys, a couple o’ years later, out yachting. The 1998 boy is waving at you guys. Say hello.

What were you up to in 1998? I was under a lot of stress that year, and walked around with a sphincter so cinched-off you couldn’t have fed a straightened paper clip through it. But, we were on an adventure and the adventures are what make life worth living. What do you have on this one? Please tell us about it in the comments.

And I’m calling it a day, my friends. Have a great one.

I’ll be back soon.

Support the Surf Report with a monthly $4 donation at Patreon, and get an extra podcast episode every week! We’re also at Venmo (@thewvsr) and PayPal (jeff@thewvsr.com). In Canada? Do your shopping at Amazon! Thank you, guys!