I just got off the phone after talking with my good friend Matthew Capell who lives outside Naples, Italy, for an hour and do you know how much it cost me? Nothing! Zilch! Nada!
That's because last week Matt e mailed me and told me to download "Skype" which is a telephone service that once the software is downloaded, allows you to visit with friends who also have downloaded Skype and have invested in a microphone --
Today I was busily trying to figure out how to be certain I had Skype up and running when suddenly I hear the sound of a telephone ringing through my computer and it's Matt! This is the moment that I realize that my IMac has a built in microphone.
A small pop up appears on my screen with frames for a still photograph of the caller, and an open screen below that -- at first I had no idea what that is for.
While we are visiting I check out the icons at the bottom of the pop up and one is an icon of a movie camera -- so I click on it.
Suddenly, from Matt I get: I CAN SEE YOU!! I CAN SEE YOU!! WHAT DID YOU DO?? That's another great feature of the IMac -- it has a built in camera.
I find out from Matt that he is seven hours ahead of me in time zones, so here I am at 2:20 PM talking to Matt who is enjoying a Belgian beer in the comfort of his own home at 9:20PM.
So ever since I got off the phone with Matt, I have been trying to figure out how I can implement SKYPE with "fans" who might want to visit, oh say, once a week at a particular time.
It's something to think about.
Meantime, if you are interested in joining the 11 million who have already signed on from all around the world, type skype into Google, click on "Skype Free Download" and you are on your way to free long distance worldwide -- and if you have - or add on - a video camera it's even more fun!
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Quite some time ago, i began a restoration project on an early 1960's Riddell football helmet. It took me weeks to get as much finish as you see in the photo sanded off by hand!
In the meantime, I began hunting daily on the internet trying to find replacement parts that were missing for the helmet and finally rounded up: jaw pads, the rubber "donut" that sits at the exact center of the inside top of the webbing, a single bar face mask, historically accurate for the 1960's, a chin strap, and most difficult of all, the two G decals and the dark green and white stripes that will be applied after the helmet is painted what I call "John Deere" yellow.
Today I chickened out on going any further on the project in fear of screwing it up badly. So I took all the parts to my auto body work guy, Rod Koplitz at Aerco Auto Body, and begged and pleaded with him to have one of his young "turks" take on the "helmet project" as a little side gig when things are slow at the shop.
Fortunately, Rod took the job! Once I get it back, I will put up some "completed" photos.
This is the self same helmet that has a great story.
Back in 1976, Matt and I were living together at 1001 Main Street, both in the process of going through divorce. Kim (my wife now of 31 yrs) was in her first year of teaching at Roosevelt School, which is way cross town from 1001 Main Street.
At the time, Kim had this little yellow Yamaha scooter, which she let us use from time to time.
Now, I can't remember why Matt paid a visit to Kim at work that fateful day, but having no transportation other than the little yellow scooter, Matt, not wanting to break the law and not having a regular motorcycle helmet, donned the Green Bay Packer helmet and rode that damn little scooter all the way across town!
I don't believe I have ever seen anything more surreal! I pull up to a stop light down town Eau Claire -- and crossing through the intersection is this very large man -- so large in fact that all I can see are two small wheels --one in front of him and the other behind him -- and he is wearing a Green Bay Packer helmet!
I laughed until I cried!
What really amazes me is that he didn't get pulled over by the local police!
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I am reading Jim Brown's autobiography "Out of Bounds" and in the chapter I am currently reading he gets to talking about cocaine use among NFL players and movie stars.
It brought back memories of my times on the road. I have a user of cocaine. Scares the hell out of me! Just as much as heroin!
But working comedy clubs on the circuit, I was exposed to others using it and how crazy it makes them.
I worked a place called The Tulsa Comedy Company. I "middled" for a comedian out of Houston, Texas. Aftr the show I asked me If I wanted to go to an after hours party at the home of a well-to-do fan of his. I told him I would go, he suggested I ride with him.
When we pulled up the huge driveway and I saw the big mansion and the Porsche in the driveway I thought to myself: "This guy must be an oil man.
Wrong. All his wealth? He accrued it as a cocaine dealer. As soon as I meet him I recognize him as the young well-dressed dude who was front row center at the club, accompanied by an incredibly beautiful woman (who looked to me to be about 16 years old).
We hadn't been there 10 minutes when out comes the mirror, the razor blade, and a mound of cocaine that would kill a horse. The host chops a line for all eight of us, snorts, passes it to the headliner, he snorts, passes it to me, i say "no thanks" and pass it on.
Uncomfortable to be at the party, more uncomfortable to be in the receiving line, I get up and move to a chair near the guy's date. She is hitting the booze hard and asks me ow old I think she is -- I say 21 -- she says 16. SIXTEEN!!!
Now I have visions of prison and a huge room mate named Bubba who thinks I am really cute!
The Stoners continue to snort -- the underager continues to drink -- until without warning she throws up on herslef and that fancy chair.
I alert the host to the problem, expecting him to react with sympathy. Instead he calls her a bitch and pulls her out of her chair by the hair and drags her off to the shower.
The headliner continues to reduce the cocaine supply until finally, around 4AM it is gone.
Can we go now?????
My other scrape with coke? My then agent calls me from Wyoming -- it is 1982 -- the year America beats the Russians in hockey at the winter olympics.
I have a cancellation. Can I fly out to Jackson, Wyoming? He has a gig for me at a ski lodge. I can stay with him at his house in Jackson Hole. $1000 for the week. It's all good, right?
He picks me up at the airport. On the way into town he tells me that his room mate is a coke dealer, that they have been arguing all week, he wants the guy out, and oh, by the way, his room mate carries a gun. And he has a Rottweiler.
I have never gotten so little sleep in my entire life. I would get back late from the club, tippy toe to my room, lock the door and hope.
Late mornings, I would hear the room mate get up and finally leave the house (I never did see his face). Then I would shower, shave, dress, all in ten minutes, and make a run for down town Jackson and remain there all day until show time.
You have never really experienced terror until you have stood in front of a bath room mirror, wrapped in a bath towel, and listened to a Rottweiler low-growl outside the door.
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