A friend of mine recently celebrated his 72nd birthday. Which I consider amazing considering I’m hovering around that area as well. BUT, that said, I don’t look 72, feel 72, or act 72. Mostly because my brain is still operating on a 45-year-old operating system. Kinda like Microsoft’s first operating system MS-DOS.
Except back then you used floppy discs and now everything is built into your operating system. NO….I DO NOT have a floppy disc. Or anything else that’s floppy. And I DO NOT need Cialis or Viagra.
So basically you can say that I never really needed to upgrade my own operating system. It works just fine.
But, with those thoughts in mind, I began to think back to how I got to where I am today. Poor, old, broke and writing this stupid blog. Not what I had planned when I was a teenager. Actually, other than being a disc jockey, I really had nothing planned.
My motto was, “Live for today….you could get hit by a semi tomorrow.” Or shot by a jealous woman. The latter more likely.
So today, “Laid Back Sunday,” as I like to call it, and for lack of anything else to blow your little minds, I’ve decided to show you the progression of Misfit in a series of photographs over the years. Rather than post them on “Facebook” and nauseate the hell outta my 3 followers.
So, let’s begin.
Obviously I grew up in the 50’s. And that’s where I’m stuck today considering I never “grew up” past 5′ 4″ tall. Why they call it growing up is beyond me.
I still recall, being Catholic, having been dragged off to celebrate Communion in the church. This means you are officially a Catholic once you take Communion. Before that you’re free to do WTF you want and not worry about going to Hell. The photo below is that of my grandmother parading me around town in my Communion outfit, (I thought of it as a mini Mafia outfit).
And strangely enough my grandmother, at that time was, I would estimate, to be in her late 40’s! Which would possibly explain why there were not a lot of kids born prior to the Baby Boomer era.
My very first bike was actually a tricycle. I hated it. All the other kids had two wheelers while I was still riding that #*%$#! thing. This is the only known photo of my uncle and me and that tricycle shortly before I rammed it into a telephone pole so that my parents would buy me a two-wheeler. Didn’t work. I think I did a lot of walking that year.
Remember those innocent school photos you always had to take back then. Some guy who made a deal with your school to come in and take pictures of you and you took them home for your parents to choose which one they wanted of you. Mine always came out looking dorky, but indeed innocent. Which I was not.
Eventually those years went by fast and I evolved into a (gasp) teenager and hung around with my friend Willie Alexander. Willie went on to become a famous recording artist out of the Boston, Massachusetts area, “Willie “Loco” Alexander,” (photo below) while I went on to become famous for breaking the record for the number of times any one person has stood in the unemployment line in the same year.
Eventually, to avoid getting the crap beat outta me for climbing a ladder with my Brownie Hawkeye camera and taking naked pictures of my next door neighbor Sally Grosberg, I quickly enlisted in the U. S. Army and became a fighting machine.
Unfortunately there actually were no wars going on at that time, so the only “fighting machine” activity I did was put to other uses. Such as driving a jeep, peeling potatoes, driving a jeep, and peeling more potatoes.
Upon leaving the service, my ambitions were to still become a professional disc jockey. Somewhat sidelined by my secondary urge to become a pervert and flash celebrities.
Having failed miserably as a flasher, I volunteered at my local Veteran’s Administration Hospital which had a closed circuit radio station that programmed music for the vets throughout the facility. I figured, hey, what the hell, I’d gain radio experience and the vets would be entertained.
Unfortunately I wanted to play Little Richard, Fats Domino and Elvis records while they wanted me to play Guy Lombardo, Ray Conniff and Lawrence Welk music. We soon parted ways.
My first real actual honest to goodness on the air stint as a disc jockey was at WRIB Radio in Providence, R.I. (photo of my hot looking De Soto outside of the station below)
I think this gig lasted four months as the format was to play 14 records and hour….the SAME 14 records an hour, as the station manager figured that that’s all people wanted to hear. THE SAME 14 #!^%$#! records. After playing 14 records over and over for 5 hours I’d spill the beans to any CIA agent who wanted me to talk if I were a terrorist.
“Bobby’s Girl” by Marcie Blaine was one of those songs.
When you’re a disc jockey, at least back in the days when I was one, you bounced around from radio job to radio job, and, sometimes from “fill in jobs.” (jobs you worked till you could find another radio gig) as was the case when I worked at an amusement park as a publicity director and met the “Lovin Spoonful.” (photo above)
Sometimes you even had to do something respectable….like being a newscaster. (WHIM Radio, Providence, R.I. below)
And sometimes even lower your standards even lower, if that was all possible for me, like being a gopher during election night back in the 70’s. (WJAR-TV Providence, R.I.below)
And sometimes you even lowered your standards even more just to get behind the mike. Like playing Country and Western music when all ya wanted to play was Rock and Roll music. Which is why I have that forlorn look on my face at WHIM Providence, R.I in this photo.
But I did manage to make it to the top of the heap in the late 60’s by becoming a late nite jock on Providence’s number one station, WPRO. And, of course, being on top of the heap, ya had to look like you were on top of the heap. Hence the moustache.
Eventually, like all good things, they come to and end. (why is it all bad things never come to an end)
So as the music changed and my mind changed, and my life changed, I ventured off to other things. Mostly poverty, between stints of driving a cab, poverty, working for some record distribution companies, poverty, working for another cab company, poverty, working for a casino as a limo driver, and then eventually retirement….and….poverty.
But I did manage to condense all of this (my life) into a book, as you most of you already know, (photo below) and, did it finally take me out of poverty? NOT!
So what does this all bring us to my fine feathered friends? What moral can we learn from all this? Beats the shit outta me. I haven’t learned a damn thing.
Well, other than if there is such a thing as reincarnation, I’ve learned that I should have gone with the Mafia thing rather than the radio broadcasting route. More profitable, could have knocked off Marcie Blaine for that dumb “Bobby Girl” record, and I sure as hell wouldn’t be living in poverty writing this stupid blog. NOW THAT’S A MORAL! Or immoral. Whatever.
So that’s all folks. As Porky Pig once said.
“You just got the mother lode of posting photos on Facebook and the Internet.” Um……with one final one…or two. Just to update things.
And finally, after years and years of having brain-dead radio station program directors telling me to “stick to the format you idiot or you’re fired,” I can finally do as I please writing this blog……………
Ok….sooooo not all the time.
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