Saturday, December 09, 2006

WPGU Photo Album (1981-1985)
















Rick and Dave ran for Homecoming King & Queen in 1985. We received the most laughs and the least votes.



















Rick in the WPGU studio, interviewing John Hunter of the Hounds.








We gave away that scooter. I'm the one on the left there.






























This is a photo of the WPGU management staff, circa 1983. Among the notables, Fox-TV reporter Dane Placko, WDRV afternoon jock Phil Manicki, and several others who are still in broadcasting throughout the country.




















My first press pass: Wrigley Field opening day 1984. My first radio convention: NAB 1984. My first business card: Program Director WPGU 1984.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Half Empty: Christmas Letter Greatest Hits (Part 3)


They say that when you hit your 40s, your life is half over. We prefer to think of it as HALF EMPTY. Our age has finally caught up with our outlook on life. Remember, it is possible to turn that frown upside down...but you might pull a muscle.





CHRISTMAS LETTER GREATEST HITS (Part 3)

By Rick Kaempfer & Dave Stern


Tis the season for Christmas form letters from long-lost friends and family members. We've been big fans of these since childhood, and we've actually acquired quite a collection over the past decade or two. (Send us yours by clicking on the "E-mail me" link on the right.)

Most letters are a little boring and maybe a little too inside for mass consumption, but others are Christmas letters for the ages. We're going to feature a few of those between now and Christmas this year.

This one was sent in by one of our more connected readers. It's a letter from North Korea, and it just came in this week.

Christmas 2006

Dearest Family, Friends and Comrades,

Well, it’s hard to believe that another year has gone by.

Kimmy and I have had another great year. Especially Kimmy. Where should I begin? Let’s start with some of his accomplishments during his free time. In January he composed 32 operas. In February he pulled a nuclear armament train out of a ditch with his teeth and as springtime approached in April, he shot 17 holes in one on his first day out on the links. He would have had 18 but his caddy gave him the wrong club. Let’s just say he won’t be using that guy again (nor will anyone else) HA HA HA.

We had a lovely summer gardening. Kimmy especially enjoyed needling the Bushes throughout the year. We remodeled the palace and added another path from the main house to the swimming pool. Sadly, Kimmy slipped and fell on it. He now calls it the “Evil Access”. He is such a card. For the record, I told him not to wear his flip flops after it rains.

Even though we had time to relax, don’t think Kimmy spent the whole year goofing off. His accomplishments at work included ending all poverty, curing every disease known to man and establishing a utopian state for all his people. He likes to call North Korea the best kept secret in the whole world. In fact, he’s thinking of using that in our next advertising campaign to lure tourists. I suggested “More Bang For Your Buck” but you know how Kimmy is...he usually gets his way.

He just walked in the room so I have to go now. It seems that some of our neighbors have been on the phone complaining about the noise. (KILLJOYS!) By the way, if you’re planning on sending Kimmy any holiday gifts this year, please note that he’s now six foot six and has a swimmers build.

Cheers,


NAME REDACTED



Next week...a Christmas letter from 1964.


If you missed any previous Half Empty columns, click here: http://halfemptyarchive.blogspot.com

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Suburban Man: Opposite World


A short story by Rick and Tommy Kaempfer
(Our first-ever collaboration)



Joey’s father looked him in the eye and repeated the question. “Are you sure you don’t have any homework tonight?”

Joey gulped and nodded. He knew that his father had an extra scent organ that could smell a lie from a thousand feet away. It was uncanny.

“What is your teacher Mrs. Hogan’s nickname again?” his father asked.

“Homework Hogan,” Joey admitted. He summoned up his last burst of dishonesty. “But she said she wanted to give us a break.”

“Are you telling me the truth, Joseph?”

Joey nodded again.

“OK,” his father said. “I guess we’ll just have to live with the consequences.”

Joey began to walk into his bedroom, but stopped outside his door, and faced his father. “What do you mean by consequences?” he asked.

“Opposite world,” his father replied casually, as he walked back down the stairs toward the family room. With his back to Joey, he couldn’t see the confused expression on his 12-year-old’s face. Joey darted to the landing at the top of the stairs, and called after his father.

“What is opposite world?” he asked.

His father calmly explained over his shoulder as he walked away. “That’s where you’ll wake up tomorrow,” he said. “There are only three undeniable truths in the world. 1) Everyone has to pay taxes. 2) The Cubs will never win the World Series. 3) Homework Hogan will assign homework to her gifted math class every single night.”

He stopped and looked up at his boy.

“If what you say is true, and Mrs. Hogan has altered one of the three undeniable truths,” Joey’s father said solemnly, “then the whole world will spin on it’s axis overnight, and by the time we wake up in the morning, everything that used to be true will no longer be true. We’ll be living in Opposite World.”

He blew his son a kiss goodnight and walked into the family room. Joey stood at the top of the stairs and smiled. His dad was like that; always making up elaborate stories to teach him a lesson. This time it wasn’t going to work. Joey knew that he still had plenty of time to do his homework on the bus ride to school in the morning.

By the time his head hit the pillow a few moments later, he was no longer giving his father’s ridiculous story a second thought. He quickly drifted off to sleep.

Unfortunately that deep sleep was interrupted just a few hours later by a honking car. Joey rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked at the clock. When he saw what time it was he rubbed his eyes again.

“11:50?”

The car honked again. Joey got out of bed and moved the curtains to the side to see who was honking a car in his driveway at ten minutes before midnight. There was no mistaking that mini-van. That was definitely his best friend Brian’s car.

“I wonder what his mom or dad or is doing here at this hour?” he thought to himself. Joey hopped out of bed, and made his way down the stairs. When he reached the kitchen, he couldn’t believe his eyes. His two year old brother Phil was making eggs and bacon, his thirteen year old brother Andrew was adjusting his tie and rifling through his briefcase, and his mother and father were mindlessly toiling away at their Gameboys.

“Didn’t you hear that car honking?” Joey asked.

Nobody looked up. Joey wasn’t sure how his father managed to pull this off, but he appreciated the effort.

“OK,” Joey said, “I get it.”

“Get what?” Baby Phil said as he whisked the eggs in the bowl.

Something was very wrong here. Phil could barely speak, let alone fix scrambled eggs.

“Um…” Joey said.

“Can you be a dear and fetch me the milk,” Baby Phil said. “I need a little more for the eggs.”

Now Joey was completely confused. The car in the driveway honked again, but nobody seemed to hear it but Joey.

“Are you telling me that nobody hears that car?” Joey asked.

“OK already,” his father huffed impatiently. “We’re ready, we’re ready.” He put his Gameboy in his backpack and nudged his wife to do the same. They put on their backpacks, their shoes, and headed out the front door.

Joey wasn’t sure why he did it, but he followed them to the driveway. That’s when he saw who was driving the minivan. Brian’s head poked out the driver’s side window and called out to his best friend.

“C’mon Joey,” he said, “Let’s get a move on. We’ll be late for school.”

“But it’s midnight,” Joey said.

“Of course it is,” Brian explained. “When else would we go to school?”

Joey smiled. This was without question the most elaborate scenario his father had ever created to teach him a lesson, but he decided not to give his dad the satisfaction. There was no way Joey’s or Brian’s parents would allow this to go any further. When it came time to actually drive the car, the joke would be over. It had to be. Brian didn’t know how to drive.

Joey opened the sliding door to the back of the mini-van and was shocked at what was waiting for him there. His parents and Brian’s parents were all strapped in to their booster seats in the back.

“No kids in back,” Joey’s father said.

“If that’s the way you want it,” Joey said with a smile, “then that’s fine by me.”

He shut the sliding door and hopped into the front passenger seat next to Brian. “How did they get you to go along with this?” he asked his best friend.

“What do you mean?” Brian asked innocently.

“Fine,” Joey said. He challenged his friend to prove how far he was willing to take this. “Let’s go then. We better get to school.”

“Not until you buckle up,” Brian said.

Joey nodded appreciatively. This was quite a performance. He had to remember to compliment everyone accordingly in a few seconds when they all admitted it was a big joke. He was still chuckling to himself when something truly strange happened. Brian, who could barely reach the gas pedal, put the car into reverse and headed out onto Elm Street.

“What are you doing?” Joey asked, suddenly alarmed. “You’ll get us killed.”

“That’s why I asked you to buckle up,” Brian said.

He reached down with his foot to hit the gas, then looked up to see where he was going, then leaned down to hit the gas again. The trip that normally took ten minutes took nearly a half an hour, but Brian somehow managed to get them to school. Joey kept waiting for his parents or Brian’s parents to say something to stop the madness, but they didn’t say a word. All four of them didn’t even seem to notice what was happening. They were quietly playing their Gameboys in the backseat.

Joey was still recovering from car sickness when he walked into the school. That’s when he knew he had actually entered Opposite World. There was no way his father could have orchestrated this: night was day and day was night, the parents were dressed like kids and the kids were dressed like grown ups, and the principal’s office door now had his name on it.

“I’m the principal?” Joey muttered to himself as he rubbed the nameplate with his fingertips. He tentatively opened the office door, and closed it again almost as quickly. Had he seen that correctly? He opened it again.

His office was a basketball court.

He shut the door again and walked briskly down the main hallway of the school. The bell rang and the grown ups scurried into the classrooms and sat behind the small desks. Joey poked his head in Mrs. Hogan’s room. His friend Brian was teaching the class of grown ups….about Barbies.

“This can’t be happening,” Joey said to himself. He ran away from Brian’s class and checked out the rest of the school. He looked into all of the classrooms, and each of them was being taught by a kid. Lydia was teaching Pokemon in Mr. Orton’s classroom. Butch, the class bully, was teaching sewing to a classroom full of construction workers.

With each passing moment, Joey became more and more disoriented. When he entered the cafeteria and saw the sights there, he staggered in disbelief. The kids were preparing gigantic trays of candy, doughnuts, cookies, and other assorted junk food to serve the grown ups for lunch. One of the kids loudly cleared his throat to let the other “workers” know that they weren’t alone. The room was suddenly totally silent.

“What is going on here?” Joey asked.

“Um, Principal Joey, it’s like this,” his friend Alex began to explain.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a girl sneak something into her pocket.

“What did you just hide?” Joey asked.

“I don’t know what you mean,” the girl replied.

Joey thought he saw what she just hid, and he had to know if he was right or not. If he had witnessed what he thought he just witnessed, this was a world he couldn’t take for one second longer.

“Turn your pocket inside out,” he ordered the girl.

When she turned it inside out, and it only confirmed that she was sneaking a snack of Brussel Sprouts in a room full of candy and sweets, Joey ran out of the cafeteria at top speed, and let out a blood curdling scream in the hallway.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

As soon as he heard the scream, and realized it didn’t echo in the empty hallway, Joey knew what had happened. A moment later his suspicions were confirmed. According to the digital clock beside his bed, it was 7:00 in the morning.

His father entered Joey’s room with a concerned expression on his face. He was wearing a suit, obviously ready to leave for work.

“Are you OK, son?” he asked.

Joey’s mind was slowly getting rid of the sleep cobwebs when Baby Phil came running into the room and hopped up onto Joey’s bed, landing on Joey’s stomach with a thud.

“Joey sad?” he asked.

Joey smiled at his little brother despite the pain in his midsection.

“What’s the crybaby crying about now?” his big brother Andrew said from the doorway. He was still wearing his pajamas.

“I think he had a bad dream,” his father said.

“I’m OK,” Joey said.

“He has to get up anyway,” his father said, and leaned in to give Joey a kiss on the forehead.

“I thought he didn’t get up until 7:15,” Andrew said.

“I have to do my homework,” Joey said, giving his father a wink. “Right, Dad?”

Joey’s father smiled. “I guess the world didn’t turn on it’s axis after all,” he said.

“Not unless the Cubs won the World Series,” Joey said.

When both Joey and his father laughed, Andrew turned to leave the room.

“If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never understand those two,” he muttered to himself.



If you missed any previous Suburban Man columns, click here: http://suburbanmanarchive.blogspot.com

Sunday, December 03, 2006

John Landecker Notebook

The John Landecker Show: Rick Kaempfer, John Landecker, Leslie Keiling, Richard Cantu, and Vince Argento







I was the executive producer of the John Landecker show's entire reign at WJMK (1993-2003). I've previously written about the show many times, but I've never singled out some of my favorite memories. This was incredibly difficult to do, but I think I have cut it down to five.



5. Live broadcasts from listener's homes

It's hard to even imagine this now, but for an entire year we did the show from a different listener's home every Wednesday. I don't think it's a coincidence that this was also our best year in the ratings. It started off slow, with John getting to meet the listeners and rifle through their personal belongings on the air, but it soon became larger than life. We met the neighborhood celebrities everywhere we went, and the local politicians suddenly started showing up every week. High school marching bands came to play for us. Soon listeners were competing to win a brand new Ford Thunderbird. My favorite moment, however, happened when John discovered it was girl-scout cookie selling season. He asked to borrow the brownie outfit of one brownie mom, and started selling cookies door to door. (Photo on left: Promotions asst. Joleen, John, Engineer Mark, Promotions asst. Edith, and me.) This brownie outfit became a running bit that culminated in a live broadcast from Union Station. Carl Giamerese of the Buckinghams came with his guitar and performed a Buckinghams song that John and I had rewritten specifically for the occasion. It was released on our third CD, Baby Boomers. Click here to hear Carl's live performance at Union Station. ("Girl Scouts") Sadly, the live broadcasts from listener homes ended abruptly with the downsizing of the station engineering department. With only one engineer remaining on staff, it was decided that broadcasting from listener's homes was no longer feasible.


4. Our annual Christmas broadcast for charity
For several years we did a live Christmas broadcast from Oak Lawn to raise money, toys, and food for the holidays. We raffled off the hottest toys of that particular season, invited celebrities to join us there (Darlene Love came one year, Channel 2 sportscaster Tim Weigel came another), filled the largest ballroom in the largest hotel with listeners, and generally took over Oak Lawn. It got bigger and bigger every year, and we felt great being able to collect toys and money for children, and food for the local food pantries. We'd like to think we helped spread some Christmas cheer. The photo above is from our first Christmas broadcast. That baby John is wearing in a snuggly is my oldest son, Tommy Kaempfer. (Tommy later became a part of the show. Click here to hear the 2-year-old Tommy's contribution to our fourth CD--"Live Long & Perspire": "Little Tommy Kaempfer Sings".) After a few years of these Christmas shows, station management requested that we discontinue the broadcasts because they felt it took away from Dick Biondi's annual toy drive. (Dick did a 24-hour-radiothon in early December every year.) We never did another Christmas show for WJMK, but I still have warm and fuzzy memories of the four shows we did.


3. Lambs Farm
When John and I first came aboard at WJMK we wondered why they never staged free concerts for their listeners. That was a staple of most Oldies stations in America, and most of the acts we played on the air still regularly performed on the summer concert circuit. After our first year on the air, the station decided to take a risk. At our first show at Lambs Farm in Libertyville, we hired the Flying Elvis' from the movie "Honeymoon in Vegas" to perform. The sight of these parachuting Elvis impersonators landing near the stage to perform was a crowd pleaser, and the crowd of more than 30,000 that showed up for the show encouraged Lambs Farm and the radio station to continue the tradition. (The picture was taken at one of the Lambs Farm concerts.) At subsequent shows we got performers like Tommy James, Chubby Checker, and just about every other Oldies act you can name. Hundreds of thousands of listeners showed up--making this annual concert every year a huge fundraiser for Lambs Farm (they got 100% of all concessions). It was also a huge deal for our show, because the opening band every year was Landecker & The Legends. We got a rousing ovation when we first performed a song that has since made me a hero to my three sons. (The station banned us from playing it on the air because it was too naughty, but allowed us to play it live.) John and I wrote the words for this classic: King of *arts


2. Touring with Landecker & The Legends
Landecker & the Legends performed together for seven summers, and we probably played at every summer festival in the Chicago area. One summer we did over twenty gigs (basically two shows every single weekend).
It eventually became a little too much for all of us (remember, we still were doing a morning show every day), but the memories I have of those shows and the great people we met will never leave me. Plus, the band was so much fun to hang out with--Tim, Mark, Steve J., Steve V, Jay, Pete, Dan, Jeff, our associate producer Tom, and the horn players were a riot. One summer we even brought along an accordian player (who was a school principal in Naperville, I believe.) The downside to having an accordian player was that I had to dress up in my German lederhosen, and lead the crowd in the Chicken Dance. I'll never forget the sight of 50,000 people flapping their arms at Lambs Farm that year. The upside to having an accordian player was that it allowed us to play the song we wrote in honor of the Disney movie Pocahantas: The Polkahantas Polka


1. Live Broadcasts from tropical resorts
I've already written about the incredible trip we had to the Dominican Republic (Renewing my vows), but I had just as much fun at our final live tropical broadcast in January of 2003. Bridget had just given birth to Sean, and she couldn't travel yet--so I took my seven year old son Tommy with me instead. Just the two of us--for a whole week in Huatulco, Mexico. Every morning at 4:30 in the morning he got up with me and came down to the broadcast site, and every morning I set up his laptop next to mine so that he could play his video games. He also told a joke on the show every morning. After the shows were over, we would explore the beaches looking for iguanas, and play in the ocean. It's a week that neither Tommy nor I will ever forget.



Where are they now?
In August of 2003 WJMK decided not to renew our contract, and we all went our seperate ways. John is back on the air again every afternoon at 94.7FM (Real Oldies) in Chicago. Leslie Keiling is the traffic reporter every afternoon on WGN Radio (720AM). Richard Cantu is a network news anchor for ABC Radio in New York. Vince Argento is the production director of the Jonathon Brandmeier Show on the Loop (97.9FM) in Chicago, and I'm now fulfilling a life-long dream by becoming a novelist. It's worked out for all of us, but we all remember those days at WJMK fondly.

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Half Empty: Christmas Letters Greatest Hits (Part 2)


They say that when you hit your 40s, your life is half over. We prefer to think of it as HALF EMPTY. Our age has finally caught up with our outlook on life. Remember, it is possible to turn that frown upside down...but you might pull a muscle.





CHRISTMAS LETTER GREATEST HITS (Part 2)

By Rick Kaempfer & Dave Stern


Tis the season for Christmas form letters from long-lost friends and family members. We've been big fans of these since childhood, and we've actually acquired quite a collection over the past decade or two. (Send us yours by clicking on the "E-mail me" link on the right.)

Most letters are a little boring and maybe a little too inside for mass consumption, but others are Christmas letters for the ages. We're going to feature a few of those between now and Christmas this year.

This is one is on loan from the British National Archive. It's yellow and brittle, but it's message of Christmas cheer is timeless.

Christmas 1536


Dearest Friends & Relatives,

It is my fondest wish that you and yours enjoy a wonderful Christmas this year.

The King and I welcomed our daughter Elizabeth to the world this year, a moment that we will surely treasure forever. His Majesty is a doting and attentive father. Why, just yesterday he didn’t even say “get thy ugliness and thy bitch child away from me.”

He is surely warming to her.

Dearest Henry has his moments, as all young sleep-deprived fathers do, but we’ve learned not to take him literally. For instance, when he says something like: “If you don’t give me a male heir, I’ll have you beheaded you filthy whore,” he simply means he wants a little brother for our darling Elizabeth. And when he tells anyone who’ll listen that I used witchcraft to get him to marry me, he simply means that he loves me so much, it’s as if I cast spell on him. He’s really sweet that way.

I’ve only been his Queen for two years now, and I’m slowly adjusting. Life in the palace is wonderful, but sometimes it is a little confining. Luckily, a few weeks ago, Henry promised me a trip to a place called Hades. It’s been ages since we traveled, so naturally little Elizabeth and I eagerly await our voyage. It won’t be a long trip (His Majesty promises it will short and swift), but it’s good to get away. My Ladies in Waiting are extremely anxious about this trip, and I’m sure it’s because they simply don’t know what to pack until we find out more about Hades’ climate.

I’m hoping this trip makes 1537 as memorable as 1536. Can you believe 1536 is almost over already? Doesn’t Henry’s ex-communication from the Catholic Church seem like it happened decades ago instead of just last year? My darling husband is really growing into his new role. Lesser men might have buckled from the pressure of running a country and a church, but my Henry is larger than life…he’s nearly 400 pounds now.

So, dear friends and relatives, as you gather round the Christmas fire this year, please pray for my husband, the Supreme Head in Earth of the Church of England, because, in case you don’t remember, it’s high treason not to.

Look for my postcard from Hades.

Lovingly yours,

Ann Boleyn


Next week...a Christmas letter from this Christmas season.

If you missed any previous Half Empty columns, click here: http://halfemptyarchive.blogspot.com

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Suburban Man: The Tea-Set


By Rick Kaempfer







My wife Bridget and I celebrated our fifteenth anniversary last week the same way we celebrate every day together: peacefully.

We really don’t argue.

There isn’t a secret to our marital harmony—I think we’re just a good match. We tend to agree on most things, and when we don’t, one of us inevitably buckles before it turns into an argument. Usually I’m the one that buckles. My wife is passionate about everything, and I’m passionate about nothing. That makes it much easier for me to buckle. I have an incredible ability to go with the flow.

Don’t get me wrong, Bridget buckles too. On the rare occasions when I disagree with her AND I actually care, I become intractable. I put my foot down, she senses that I am serious, and she buckles. This happens maybe once a year.

Has there ever been a time when I put my foot down on a subject that Bridget felt too strongly about to concede? Yes, it happened once.

I can tell you everything about that fight because it’s ingrained in my memory banks. It occurred in October of 1997. Tommy was just about to turn 2. The argument began thusly…

Bridget: I got Tommy’s birthday present today.

Rick: What did you get?

Bridget: A tea-set.

Rick: That’s great…um…what did you say?

Bridget: I got him a tea-set.

Rick: You mean like a golf tee set?

Bridget: No.

Rick: You mean like a “pour imaginary cups of tea for your dolls and raise your pinky while you pretend to drink” tea set?

Bridget: Yup. He’ll love it.

Rick: You know he’s a boy, right?

Bridget: This won’t make him gay, Rick.

Rick: Objecting to “girl presents” for your son doesn’t make you homophobic.

Bridget: It’s not a girl present.

Rick: Let me see the box.

(Bridget pulled the pink box out of the bag. A little girl engaged in a doll tea-party was pictured on the front of the package.)

Rick: That’s what I thought. We can give it to one of our nieces.

Bridget: No, we’re giving it to Tommy.

Rick: No, we’re not.

Bridget: Well I’m not returning it. If you want to get him something else, you have to get it yourself.

Bridget wouldn’t buckle, and called all of her friends and sisters for support. They all agreed that I was being sexist and ridiculous.

I wouldn’t buckle, and called all of my friends for support. They all agreed that she was being ridiculous.

Since neither of us could convince anyone on the other side of the sex divide to cross-over and support our argument, we agreed to conduct an experiment to see which one of us was right.

Bridget would still give Tommy the tea-set, but I would give him a more appropriate boy gift (Hot Wheels). We would put both presents on the table in the living room and let Tommy decide which one he preferred. Neither of us would be allowed to talk to him at all, and we couldn’t say or do anything to sway his opinion.

Since Tommy didn’t really talk too much, the winner would be decided by which present Tommy chose first….her tea-set or my Hot Wheels. Winner takes all, loser admits defeat.

That night we brought Tommy into the room and told him the presents on the table were both for him. At first he didn’t say or do anything.

Then it happened…he walked right to the Hot Wheels and asked me to open the package.

He was a little taken aback by my exuberant response and Bridget’s inexplicable muttering, but Tommy had cemented the father-son bond forever by proving me right.

I didn’t dance on Bridget’s grave, and it’s a good thing I didn’t. She was also later proven correct. Tommy did eventually warm to the tea-set, and his two younger brothers also played with the tea-set without sustaining any lasting damage.

The real winner of the argument was our marriage. We both felt really silly and ridiculous after that display, and we haven’t had a real argument since.

It’s much easier to buckle.



If you missed any previous Suburban Man columns, click here: http://suburbanmanarchive.blogspot.com

Sunday, November 26, 2006

GET HEALTHY MAGAZINE ARTICLE: "Prostate Attention"

Just to show I'm not always joking, I did pen the following article for the Fall 2006 issue of "Get Healthy" Magazine.

By Rick Kaempfer


Once men reach a certain age, prostate problems are a fact of life.

“An enlarged prostate is as inevitable as gray hair,” says Dr. Subba Rao Nagubadi of Urology Associates of N.W Indiana.

Prostate cancer is also the most common form of malignant cancer (other than skin cancer) affecting men today. According to the National Cancer Institute, more than 220,000 men will be diagnosed with prostate cancer this year.

But for all the bad news about prostate cancer, there is hopeful news as well. Unlike some other cancers, many men with advanced prostate cancer can expect to live for many years. Often, the prostate cancer grows slowly, and there are now some effective treatment options that extend life even further.


Early Detection


Waiting until the symptoms associated with prostate problems occur (frequent urination, a sudden need to urinate, a need to strain or push to empty the bladder, or pain and burning in urination or ejaculation) isn’t enough. In fact, by the time the symptoms occur, prostate cancer may have spread beyond the prostate.

Luckily there are two fairly reliable tests that may catch prostate cancer, even in the “silent” or early stages before any symptoms occur.

A Digital Rectal Exam (DRE) is the common method used by doctors to physically feel the prostate through the rectum, looking for lumps or hard areas. This is usually done in concert with a blood test which looks for elevated PSA (Prostate Specific Antigen) levels. Because most men with slightly elevated levels of PSA do not have cancer, and some prostate cancers can’t be detected through digital rectal exams, it’s important to do both tests. Together they have been much more successful in identifying prostate cancer.

“After age 40,” says Dr. Nagubadi, “I recommend you get tested once a year.”


Treatment

In their book Updated Guidelines for Surviving Prostate Cancer, Dr. E. Roy Berger and Dr. James Lewis Jr. point out that there isn’t one correct way to treat prostate cancer. “The reason for this is that there have not been a significant number of randomized controlled studies to answer all of the questions related to the various treatment modalities.”

That means that the prostate cancer patient has options, and he should investigate all of them thoroughly. There are basically three variations of treatments; surgery, radiation, and closely monitoring the cancer.

Closely monitoring the cancer is called Surveillance (also known as watchful waiting). If the cancer is low-grade and confined to the gland (early stage) especially with older patients who have other serious medical conditions, doctors may be hesitant to pursue more invasive treatments. With the surveillance method, doctors simply keep a close eye on the growth of the cancer through regular examinations. Once it grows and starts to spread, further action is necessary.

Usually that involves surgery called Radical Prostatectomy.

“We recommend the surgery for any patient who is young enough—up to age 70, and strong enough,” says Dr. Nagubadi of Urology Associates of N.W Indiana.

Radical Prostatectomy surgery removes the entire prostate and nearby tissues, and sometimes the lymph nodes in the pelvis.

For patients who aren’t strong enough to undergo the radical prostatectomy, Radiation Therapy is the other treatment choice. The radiation is normally delivered through external beams, but it can also be implanted directly into the prostate with a needle.


Recovery

Patients usually fully recover from surgery relatively quickly, but there are a few other possibilities to consider. While the radical prostatectomy is done with nerve sparing techniques, it can cause potential side effects.

“Some men lose the ability to achieve an erection,” says Dr. Nagubadi.

Drugs like Viagra and several similar, newer drugs can help patients resume normal sexual function.

As for radiation recovery, the radiation itself is painless. However, according to the American Society of Clinical Oncology, radiation therapy may cause the following side effects:
• Diarrhea or other disruption of bowel function
• Increased urinary urge or frequency
• Fatigue
• Impotence
• Rectal discomfort, burning, or pain

Prevention

There are three higher risk groups most likely to get prostate cancer.
=Men over 65
=African-American men
=Men who have a history of prostate cancer in their families (especially those cases diagnosed before the age of 60)
Because the incidence of prostate cancer is lower in Asia, Africa, and South America, some experts think that diets lower in animal fat may help lower the risk. This, unfortunately, has not been proven in any clinical study.
Dr. Nagubadi of Urology Associates of N.W Indiana is skeptical. Asked if there was anything someone could do to help prevent prostate cancer, he replied, “No, not really.”

The combination of age and genetics are still the biggest determinants of who gets prostate cancer, and unfortunately, science and medicine still haven’t figured out a way to overcome either of those factors.



For More Information about Prostate Cancer:

The National Cancer Institute: http://www.cancer.gov/prostate

Prostate Cancer Treatment information: http://www.cancer.gov/cancerinfo/pdg/treatment/prostate/paient/

Know Your Options: Understanding Treatment choices for Prostate Cancer: http://www.cancer.gov/cancerinformation/understand-prostate-cancer-treatment

The Prostate Cancer Foundation
http://www.prostatecancerfoundation.org/



Writing this article caused me to have phantom prostate problems for a week. I even went to the doctor to get it checked. The exam wasn't pleasant, but the prostate is fine.

Saturday, November 25, 2006

Guest Blogger: Dave Stern


That's happy Dave on the right there, after the first interleague Cubs-Sox game. Guess who won?







Dave is the other half of the Half Empty column featured every Wednesday on this blog. Dave and I have known each other since college. In fact, we started writing together the day we met, and continue to do so today twenty four years later.

While we like to write humor and comedy together, Dave has always drawn the line on one subject matter: Jews. As a Jew, Dave is allowed to comment. As a German, Rick is not. Ever. Fair enough.

Today Dave gets some of his all-time favorite Jewish bits out of his system.


Jew Musings
By Dave Stern

Are we really that different from everyone else? Until a few years ago I didn’t think so. Then I had this conversation with one of my largest customers:

Cooter: Hey Dave, can you ship me a couple of skids of 19 x 25 60# C1S litho as soon as possible.

Me: Sure. I’ll ship it today and you’ll get it on the Monday after the holiday.

Cooter: Great. Have a good holiday. (Awkard pause) Ummm, do you Jews celebrate Thanksgiving?

Me: What? Of course we do! It’s a very special day for my people since we own most of the turkey farms and cranberry bogs. However, our traditional holiday meal is a little different. Instead of sweet potatoes, we eat the intestines of dogs we’ve stolen from little gentile boys and girls.


OK, the last part wasn’t true. I thought of the pithy retort after I hung up. Nevertheless, this underscores the fact that many people are clueless as to what Jews are really like. So I’m here to give a brief lesson on our Semitic ways. Think of it as a Cliff Notes to Judaism. Or better yet, Saul Notes. Here are 8 fun facts, one for each day of Chanukah.

1) There have only been 3 high school varsity letters given out to Jews. Sandy Koufax got one for baseball, Goldberg for wrestling and Mark Spitz got one for swimming. Until accounting becomes a sanctioned sport, this number will probably stay the same.

2) If you’re a terrorist, bomb Chinese restaurants on Christmas Eve or movies on Christmas. You can wipe out 89% of us in a couple of days. Second thought, spare us the movie theaters. Where are we going to show all the films we’ve produced, directed, written and starred in?

3) We consider someone White Trash if they buy retail and have never had an orthodontist.

4) If you’re a gay Jewish man make sure you bring a tribesman home. You don’t want to hear, “What’s wrong with Sheldon Rosenblatz? He’s hot.”

5) If you’re in a fantasy Jewish baseball league make sure you get the first or second pick. After Shawn Green and Brad Ausmus you’re pretty much screwed.

6) Don’t hire a Jewish mover unless you want to hear about his lumbago.

7) There has never been a Jewish host for a home improvement show.
“Hi and welcome to Moshe’s House. Today we’re going to talk about landscaping. (dials telephone) Hello, Hernandez Lawn care?

8) Many people feel that Charlton Heston portrayed the greatest theatrical Jewish character ever. This is false. When Scott Colomby (as Brian Schwartz in Porky’s) uttered: "Listen, when you're Jewish, you either learn to fight or you take a lotta shit," he made all of us shed a tear.

So that’s basically all you need to know about us. Even though we’re the chosen we’re pretty simple folk. If you haven’t met one of us, chances are you will. Feel free to use any of the above tidbits the next time we’re checking your prostate.

Oh, and for the record I did change my customer’s name so I wouldn’t embarrass him (his name is really Cletus). Plus, I don’t want to make him mad and lose his business. You know how us Jews are.






I was the best man at Dave's wedding, or as he likes to say, "You were an OK Man at best."









Dave and I hosted a radio show together at WPGU in Champaign-Urbana, and we staged a radio stunt by running for Homecoming King & Queen. This ad for our campaign appeared in the Daily Illini. (I convinced Dave he had to be queen because he had a mustache...and he bought it.) We won the most laughs...and the least votes.

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Half-Empty: Christmas Letter season begins


They say that when you hit your 40s, your life is half over. We prefer to think of it as HALF EMPTY. Our age has finally caught up with our outlook on life. Remember, it is possible to turn that frown upside down...but you might pull a muscle.





CHRISTMAS LETTER GREATEST HITS (Part 1)

By Rick Kaempfer & Dave Stern


Tis the season for Christmas form letters from long-lost friends and family members. We've been big fans of these since childhood, and we've actually acquired quite a collection over the past decade or two. (Send us yours by clicking on the "E-mail me" link on the right.)

Most letters are a little boring and maybe a little too inside for mass consumption, but others are Christmas letters for the ages. We're going to feature a few of those between now and Christmas this year.

We acquired this first one (completely authentic--it comes with a letter of authenticity signed by famed attorney U.R. Dumass) on E-bay. It's probably worth a great deal more than the $1000 we paid for it.

December 1928


Dear Friends and Relatives,

What a year! I can’t believe Herbie’s really the new president.

We’re just getting settled into our new home (The White House), but it’s been quite the decorating challenge. Herbie has been putting up his gosh-awful paintings of a “chicken in every pot” throughout the house, and every time I asked the Negro help to please take the paintings down, Herbie ordered them back up.

“Confound it, Mrs. Hoover,” he said, “I’m the President now, and when I issue an order, you can’t be undermining my authority.”

He always talks like that. It’s cute. But when I told him that he would have to sleep in the Lincoln bedroom as long as those paintings were on the wall, he realized the error of his ways. He’s darling, he really is.

One thing I will say about Herbie is that he’s neat…not like that sloppy Coolidge clan. The White House carpeting was so full of dust and debris when we moved in, Herbie said he wished someone would invent a device that could suck it all up.

“And when they do,” he said, “it should be called a ‘Coolidge.’”

“Just take another nip of your presidential moonshine,” I joshed.

“You know that alcohol is illegal, Mrs. Hoover,” he said, and winked.

I love him, the little rascal. He has so many big plans for the economy to make America a more prosperous and powerful country. He talks about it day and night.

“Mark my words, Mrs. Hoover,” he says, “People will never forget what we accomplish in 1929.”

I wouldn’t bet against him. Ever since he beat that filthy Catholic to win the election, he’s been on a roll. Everyone loves him. It goes without saying that the ladies find him irresistable, and I'll admit that really bothered me until eight years ago. Now I see those trollups as Herbie does...voters.

You'll be happy to hear that the attention hasn't gone to his head. The presidency will never change my dear lovable Herbie. I’ve only heard the man cuss one time since we came to Washington, and it was so out of character, we still refer to it as “The Hoover Damn.”

Have a wonderful Christmas this year, and as Charles Lindbergh told us at a White House dinner… “Fly straight, keep your spirits up, and you’ll never crash.”

May you follow that wonderful advice in 1929.

Merry Christmas.

Mrs. Hoover


Next week? A Christmas letter from Ann Boleyn.

You won't want to miss it.


If you missed any previous Half Empty columns, click here: http://halfemptyarchive.blogspot.com

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Suburban Man: Suburban Thanks



By Rick Kaempfer





With Thanksgiving right around the corner, Suburban Man has been busy giving suburban thanks. It’s impossible to name everything, but the following is a partial list. This year, I give suburban thanks for...

*My furnace and air conditioner
Yes, they provide us with heat and cool air, but that’s not why I’m giving thanks for them. My furnace and air conditioner are the only things we haven’t had to replace in our home since we moved in—and yes, I’m knocking on wood as I write this.

*Silence
This unusual gift comes to my home exactly twice a week: On Tuesdays and Thursdays between 12:05 p.m and 2:20 p.m, when my youngest son Sean is in pre-school.

*Neighbors
What do I love the most about my neighbors? This is an easy one…their inattentiveness to their lawns. My natural slovenly approach to lawn care would stick out like a sore thumb on any other block.

*The Applebee’s Menu
No, I don’t love the food, but they do have a great kids menu that can satisfy all three of my picky eaters, PLUS they have a great array of alcoholic beverage choices. “No food for me, boys. Daddy’s going to drink his dinner tonight.”

*2 miles north, 2 miles south
Why do we live in the suburbs? Is it the great school system? The answer should be yes, but for us it’s not necessarily the great schools…it’s who lives 2 miles north (my sister), and who lives 2 miles south (my mom). We’ve only had to pay for a babysitter twice in ten years.

*CBS Radio
The media giant not only gave me most of the money I used to buy my house, they also did me a tremendous favor in September of 2003 when they didn’t renew my contract. Since I left radio, my high blood pressure has disappeared, I regularly get six to eight hours of sleep a night (after not sleeping for a decade), and the bags under my eyes have finally been reduced from “Do you want paper or plastic, or will you just be bringing home the groceries in the bags under your eyes.”

*The Library
We check out hundreds and hundreds of books every year. It’s five minutes away, my kids absolutely love going there, and here’s the biggie…it’s free. Plus, the library in my home town bought my first book. I still get a kick out of seeing if anyone has checked it out.

*Orange, Green & White
My prize possession is my grandmother’s old lamp from the sixties. It has one green plastic shade, one orange plastic shade, and one white plastic shade. My wife thinks it’s obnoxious and has relegated it to the basement. If I found out my house was on fire, this lamp is the only possession I would bother saving.

*It takes a village
I got a call the other day from one of the parents in the neighborhood. She called to say that she yelled at Tommy because he was walking home from school on the curb instead of the sidewalk, unnecessarily risking his life near the convoy of whizzing minivans. That is about the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.

*7 p.m. weeknights
I always have dinner ready for her when she walks in the door, but that’s the least I can do for my wife. When she comes home from work, she is ready to take over the house—something I was never ready to do when I worked. I’m just about the luckiest guy in the world.

Those are just some of the things I’m giving suburban thanks for this Thanksgiving.

If you'd like to share some of your suburban thanks, click on the "e-mail me" link above on the right, and I'll share them with the rest of the class on Friday.

Happy suburban Thanksgiving.


If you missed any previous Suburban Man columns, click here: http://suburbanmanarchive.blogspot.com

Sunday, November 19, 2006

SHORE MAGAZINE ARTICLE: Toys for the whole family

From the (current) December/January Issue of Shore Magazine (http://visitshoremagazine.com)


By Rick Kaempfer



It should be a rule that every member of the family gets at least one toy for the holidays. There’s something about receiving a toy that brings out the child in everyone.

Unfortunately, keeping up with the “toy” market is a full-time job, especially for people who don’t normally receive them. It’s usually easier to just settle for a tie, or a sweater, or a pair of wooly socks.

Not this year. Not with this handy guide. No need to thank us. The smiles on the faces of your family members are all the thanks we need.


Toys for Dad

Dad appreciates his ever-expanding tie collection, but he also likes toys just as much as anyone else…especially if the toys have something to do with golf.

The Applauding Automatic Return Putting Cup, Hammacher-Schlemmer (#CP-73372), $39.95
Putting inside the home or office can be fun, but that ten foot walk to retrieve balls can be exhausting, and without a cheering section to validate Dad’s putting prowess, it can leave him feeling alone and unappreciated. Both of those problems are solved with this product-- a cordless portable indoor putting device that provides polite golf applause before automatically returning successful putts. Sadly, if Dad misses, he’ll still have to do the ten foot walk of shame.

The Potty Putter, Wonderfullywacky.com, $19.95
This is just what it sounds like—something for Dad to do at his favorite hangout. It includes a putting green, a putter, two golf balls, a flagstick, and a “Do Not Disturb” sign for the door.

The RadarGolf System, Sharper Image (#RG001), $249.95
Yes, the price tag is a little daunting. However, with this system, your father may never have to buy golf balls again. With a tiny implanted microchip in the core of the RadarGolf ball and a handheld beeping device to let him know when he is getting closer to his ball, he will never lose a ball again. On the other hand, you might advise him not to use this ball on the water holes. (The kit comes with a dozen radargolf balls, a handheld device, and specially lined pouches to keep spare balls from affecting the search).

The Remote Control Golf Ball, Hammacher-Schlemmer (#CP-72460), $39.95

This product looks and feels like a real golf ball, but it can also be controlled by a tiny remote control device. Watch Dad’s friends and co-workers ooh and ah as he putts the ball waaaaay too hard, only to see it zig and zag back into the hole.

Toys for Mom

Of all the members of the family, Mom is least likely to want a toy…at least not in the traditional sense. With that in mind, we’ve slightly expanded Mom’s definition of “toy” to provide the kind of gifts that she would really appreciate—but would never buy for herself.

Locate 1, Sharper Image (#MT200), $499.95
It’s pricey, but Mom’s worth it. What does she spend most of her time doing every day? Worrying. And isn’t five hundred bucks a small price to pay to slow down the emergence of Mom’s gray hair? With this wireless GPS that can be hidden in a backpack or the trunk of a car, Mom can keep tabs on the kids at all times. Locate 1 can even be programmed to automatically send a message to Mom when the car is going too fast. A child’s nightmare. A mother’s dream.

Extra Strength Denial Pills, Wackyplanet.com (#TOY-ARB-DENIAL-PILLS), $4.99 for one bottle, $12 for three
So you don’t have an extra $500 lying around for Mom this year, eh? Don’t fear. This gift is the next best thing for a mother of teenagers. The pills are placebos (actually candy), but they remind Mom to stop asking so many questions about what is really going on at Troy’s house. Aaah, ignorance is bliss.

The Full-Bottle Wine Glass, Hammacher-Schlemmer (#CP-70375), $24.95
Have you noticed that Mom needs a little stress relief? That first glass of wine in the evening calms her down, but the second, third, and fourth glasses often leave her feeling a little guilty. Not any more. This two-liter wine glass can hold an entire bottle of wine so Mom can limit herself to one glass a night. No guilt, no shame, and lots of stress relief. (Be sure to hide the car keys, however.)


Toys for Teens

Let’s face it. American teens have too many toys already. By the time a child reaches his or her teen years, parents have shelled out thousands of dollars for the latest must-have gadget or toy. With that in mind, we offer only one suggestion this year…and it’s technically not a toy.

Black Scottevest fleece jacket, Brookstone, $140

Your teen already has an I-Pod, a cellular photo phone, a PDA, and a Gameboy, but probably doesn’t have an efficient way of carrying them all at once. This fleece jacket comes with 12 pockets specifically designed to carry all of those gadgets and more. It includes a routing system that threads earbuds, and magnetic closures to keep all gadgets safe, plus it’s been specifically designed to evenly distribute the weight. Granted, it will officially end all face to face communication…but at least when you text message your child, you’ll know he hasn’t misplaced his phone.


Toys for the little ones

We researched the young toy market with certain important restrictions in mind: Toys must not be loud, and they must not be easily transformed into a weapon. Consider the following ideas a gift for both parents and child.

Small World Living Kitchen, Smarti Pantz Toyz in Highland, Indiana (www.smartipantztoyz.com)
Ask any pre-school teacher or day care provider about the most popular toys for both girls and boys, and they’ll tell you that kids love to play “kitchen.” Ours is not to question why, it is merely to encourage. Converting a child that likes to play in the kitchen into a helpful member of the family at dinner-time is actually an attainable goal. The more realistic the toys, the more helpful they can be. The Small World Living line is particularly good …
Small World Living Sink & Stove, $180
Small World Living Refrigerator, $160
Small World Living Fun-With-Fruit, $16
Small World Living Build-A-Burger, $9


Toys for Grandparents

As we age, we get grumpier. It’s a fact of life. As we age, we also get more politically intractable. That’s a fact of life too. We kept that in mind as we searched for grandparent toys, and we may have found the perfect gift.

The Talking Ann Coulter Action Figure, Stupid.com, $29.99

Press Ann Coulter’s belly and she will spout anti-liberal invective. This doll does it too. It’s the perfect gift for the crotchety conservative grandpa who loves “Annie.” Watch him cackle with glee as he makes the doll spout her wisdom at his good-for-nothing liberal son-in-law. With an extra purchase of a few voodoo pins, it’s also the perfect gift for the crotchety liberal grandpa who hates “that woman.” Whenever he sees the real Ann on TV, he can take out his aggression in a healthy non-threatening way…which makes it a present for Grandma too—because she is getting sick of hearing his bellyaching.


That covers everyone, right?

Not exactly, but there’s a reason why we didn’t feature toys for children between 4 and 13 years old. Let’s face it. Those kids aren’t exactly subtle about telling you what they want. They want toys, and they’ll tell you exactly which make and model. Any deviation will not be tolerated or appreciated.

Maybe this year, with the help of our guide, everyone else will be just as happy for once.

Saturday, November 18, 2006

Guest Blogger: Dobie Maxwell

Dobie Maxwell is one of the most accomplished stand-up comedians working in America today. I highly recommend his stand up act. He was also one of the co-hosts of the "Morning Loop Guys" on WLUP in 2003/2004. He's previously contributed three columns exclusively for this blog. (Dobie 1 & Dobie 2 & Dobie 3)

Today he makes it four...


… And Justice For Al

By Dobie Maxwell

My grandfather’s name was Avrum but everyone called him Al. Everyone except me. I called him Gramps. I was raised by my grandparents and Gramps told me later he vowed to spend the time with me that he didn’t spend with my father. I was his second chance to be a good parent and he taught me lessons whether I wanted to learn them or not. I didn’t want to learn them at the time but now I find myself thinking back on them often. One of his big pet peeves was stupidity. It was Gramps who first told me ‘The masses are asses’.

I thought Gramps made it up but he didn’t. Alexander Hamilton said it. He’s the guy on the ten dollar bill. He also never was president. I know that because I’d watch Gramps bet people $10 they couldn’t tell him the name of the president pictured on a $10 bill. He did it only to people he thought were stupid and needed to be taught a lesson. He delighted in it whenever disaster struck someone or something he thought deserved it. I get it now.

Growing up in the ‘70s I was fascinated with Evel Knievel and his motorcycle jumping stunts. He was billed as a ‘dare-devil’ but Gramps called him a ‘dare-dummy’ and hoped he killed himself every time he would jump his motorcycle over a load of buses. I never understood how he could wish that on anyone. When I asked him why he said "Because he’s an idiot and he’s asking for it. I hope he gets it. Then he‘ll teach everyone else with a brain what NOT to do and life will be better for everyone else. He’s a human example."

Gramps equated it to telling someone not to touch the stove because it was hot and then they do it anyway. I know because it was me who did it. He laughed uproariously when I did it and said "See? I told you. What part of HOT did you not understand?" I get it now.

I couldn’t help but think of Gramps a few weeks ago when I watched on TV how the airplane of New York Yankees pitcher Corey Lidle crashed into a building in Manhattan.. There is nothing funny about a plane crash…when it happens to innocent people. When it happens to a millionaire athlete who wasn’t experienced as a pilot but put everyone else at risk just because he felt like sight seeing and thought he was bullet proof I find a deep dark part of myself becoming Gramps in the way I think and saying "See? I told you. What part of hot did you not get Corey?" He put the entire WORLD on terror alert because he had to get in a crop duster and storm troop through New York City like the Red Baron. He jeopardized everything and lost his life, his career and left a young wife and daughter. That’s not at all humorous but he was either too stupid or too cocky to realize how much he put at risk all for a plane ride. He is a human example and part of me laughed when I heard about it.

I know that’s cruel but at least I’m brave enough to admit it. We all have a humor dark side, it’s just different in all of us how black the darkness gets. How much pain is funny? If someone should trip and fall in front of us is it funny? According to Gramps only if the person is a moron, imbecile, halfwit or dolt. He thought lack of intelligence deserved a bit of punishment to serve as an example to everyone else. As I get older I’m having a harder time arguing his logic. Why should we call a NASCAR crash a ‘tragedy’? They all drive at over 200 miles an hour. On purpose. Every week. Shouldn’t we expect it to happen?

Look at the problems we have with car accidents in the real world. The speed limit on the freeways is different in different places but it’s never over 75. That’s dangerous as it is but now let’s triple that speed and put a bunch of rednecks behind the wheel on top of that and nobody expects there to be a crash? It’s a ‘tragedy’? No, it’s an ‘inevitability’.

The Crocodile Hunter was another prime example. By all accounts he was a gentle and nice man. He was a good father to his kids and a kind soul. I’m sorry when the world has to lose one of those because there are far too few of them but on the other hand here is an idiot who time after time for years would provoke dangerous animals. On television yet. What did he expect was going to happen? Mother nature must have had enough and sent the old stingray to stop the clock. How many times did he tickle the testicles of a tarantula to tempt the fates? I always saw him flicking his finger in the face of a ferret or wiggling his watch at a wildebeest and I knew it was just a matter of time until he was pet food.

I don’t have to watch the news long for a story that would have made Gramps cheer up. Just the other day I saw one about a gang banger who died trying to spray graffiti 90 feet up on a billboard. He slipped and fell to his death halfway through his defacing of public property. Would he have climbed 90 feet without a net or any safety ropes to get a job as a painter? NO. Instead he decided to make a human example of himself. I find that funny.

I don’t want to mislead you about Gramps. He had a heart and so do I. I am also not at all trying to say that I don’t do stupid things once in a while. Maybe someday I’ll be one of those masses Alexander Hamilton was talking about and I’ll make an example of myself too. If I do, you have my permission to laugh at me as well. If I’m as dumb as the people you just read about then I deserve it too. I’ll leave earth with levity and justice for Al.



MR LUCKY, DOBIE MAXWELL, ON STAGE IN SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Half Empty: Million Dollar Holiday Gifts


They say that when you hit your 40s, your life is half over. We prefer to think of it as HALF EMPTY. Our age has finally caught up with our outlook on life. Remember, it is possible to turn that frown upside down...but you might pull a muscle.





Million Dollar Holiday Gifts

By Rick Kaempfer & Dave Stern



This holiday season we are really in the giving mood. In fact, we’re prepared to give away millions of dollars.

It’s better to teach someone to fish than to give them actual fish, right? That’s why your good buddies Rick and Dave are handing out six of our business ideas from our “Million Dollar File,” absolutely free.

That’s right. The following ideas are all potential goldmines. They only need a fisherman to cast out the line. With a little gumption, a little spit and polish, and a little start-up capital, these businesses could each be worth a mint.

1. Uri-Geller Auto Body Shops
The man can bend spoons with his mind. It’s a total waste of his talent. Think of what he could do for Chevys and Lincoln Town Cars (with no overhead costs!) He wouldn’t return our phone calls, but that doesn’t mean he won’t return yours. Good luck, and please wish him our best.

2. Players Association Fantasy Camps
At the existing fantasy camps featuring players from the 60s and 70s, participants play baseball with the old stars. At this fantasy camp featuring more recently retired players, participants will be taught how to hold out, how to demand your own personal trainer, how to inject your buttocks, and how to manage your financial portfolio. It’s much more realistic than those other “fantasy” camps.

3. Topless Tapas
We’ve had closed-minded potential-investors claim that nobody would go to a Topless Tapas restaurant because only couples go to Tapas joints, and only groups of guys go to Topless joints. They didn’t see the potential of bringing couples and groups of guys together. This is a unity business, one that will allow us to live in harmony. You get it, right? Good. Now open one up. We want to bring our wives.

4. The Dead-Head Job Hunting Guide
We starting writing this book in 1995 (when Jerry Garcia died) as a service to all those poor souls who could no longer follow the Grateful Dead around the country. We figured they would have to get jobs, and wouldn’t have the necessary skills. Our handy guide gave them important interviewing tips like “wear shoes,” and even provided a glossary to explain the real definitions of terms like “business trip.” For some reason we never finished the book, but the deadheads still don’t have jobs. If only someone else took the ball and ran with it…

5. The Deaf Comedy Jam
The HBO people weren’t receptive to our pitch a few years ago, but the new executives working there now will probably see the wisdom of a comedy concert for the deaf—a totally untapped comedy market. A simple word of caution, however. Don’t try to stage it without HBO. They threatened to sue us for copyright infringement if we staged our own, claiming…are you ready for this… “people might confuse it with the Def Comedy Jam.” Right. Talk about paranoid.

6. The Sound of Music Gift Shoppe
OK, let’s start at the very beginning—a very good place to start. We’ve each been to Salzburg and were blown away that there wasn’t a single Sound of Music Gift Shoppe in the town the movie was filmed. What Sound-of-Music-fanatic wouldn’t want to bring home some “raindrops on roses” or “whiskers on kittens” or “brown paper packages tied up in strings” as souvenirs? Yes, Austria is a long, long way to run, but the hills are alive there…with the sound of euros.


There you have it. Millions of dollars you didn’t have five minutes ago. Enjoy your new found wealth.

All we ask is that you think of us when your butler brings you a pina colada at your Bahamian winter home.

Happy Holidays.


If you missed any previous Half Empty columns, click here: http://halfemptyarchive.blogspot.com

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Suburban Man: Public Tantrum Tips


By Rick Kaempfer





I call it the “Parenting Book Black Hole.”

Even though there are literally thousands of parenting books on the market offering tips on the best and most productive ways to discipline a child, as far as I’m concerned, none of them have the answer when it comes to the most humiliating parental moment: the public tantrum.

I’m not talking about the everyday whining for candy that every parent has to deal with at the checkout counter.

No, I’m talking about the Super Bowl of tantrums: the uncontrollable screaming, kicking, and punching by the demon-seed exorcism-candidate you brought to the store with you. The kid whose eyes look at you through the tears to say: “What are you gonna do about it in front of all these people?”

Kids are smart. They know that strangers don’t look at a rampaging kid and think – “Wow, that’s a bad kid.” They think – “Wow, that kid has bad parents.”

So…as your child convulses and squeals, you go through your options in your mind.

1) You can ignore the tantrum and let the kid stew in his own humiliation. That’s what some of the parenting books recommend. Unfortunately, the parenting books aren’t written with demon-seed exorcism-candidates in mind.

2) You can threaten serious consequences in a hiss-like voice with a smile on your face. Unfortunately, this takes years to perfect, and he knows you won’t do anything in front of strangers anyway.

3) You can try reasoning with him. Of course, you’re arguing from a position of weakness, and kids can smell weakness. That’s why you’re in this position in the first place.

4) You can give in. You know this is wrong on so many levels, but hell, the damn toy only costs six dollars and that’s a small price to pay for an end to your humiliation. Although, if you do that, you’ll face the exact same response next time.

None of those options will work, will they? And those are the only possible options, right?

Wrong.

I have three new options for the pragmatic parent. These simple approaches will allow you to leave the store without getting reported to DCFS, and without succumbing to the demon-seed. They aren’t going to win you any Parent-of-the-Year awards, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

1) Elicit onlooker sympathy
If you can’t force yourself to deny the child is yours, say this in a loud enough voice to be heard by all onlookers: “I’m sorry your mother left us too, honey, but I’m doing the best I can to raise you and your brothers by myself. If I buy you that toy, we can’t eat dinner tonight. You can play with your lump of coal when we get home.”

2) Pretend you’re on TV
Wave to a rack of clothing. Talk into your sleeve. Say this: “Are you rolling, Bob? Good. He’s rolling, kid. Now keep that up, and remember not to look at the hidden cameras unless you hear the director yell ‘Cut!’ Got it? Great. Keep screaming. You’re a natural.”

3) Appeal to onlooker patriotism
Don’t underestimate the power of the flag. Say this: “You just go ahead and scream, Ali. I know you weren't allowed to scream like that in Iran, but here in the good ol’ U.S of A, we have freedom. Me and the missus are just pleased as punch to have you join our family.”

These options may seem a little distasteful, but they’re guaranteed to stop the peanut gallery from camping out and watching you flounder.

Without a disapproving crowd, your child’s tantrum loses steam, which allows you to regain command. That’s when you remind him how sorry he’s going to be for putting you through this ridiculous experience.

And when you get back into the nearly soundproof car, you can exercise your own lungs.

An eye for an eye. An ear for an ear.

It’s practically biblical.


If you missed a previous Suburban Man column, click here: http://suburbanmanarchive.blogspot.com

Sunday, November 12, 2006

Renewing My Vows



This week five years ago, Bridget and I renewed our wedding vows live on the air. I described it in this short section of my book..."The Radio Producer's Handbook." The photos are a bonus for the blog readers.



The John Landecker show did a week of live broadcasts from the Dominican Republic. Every morning there were huge technical issues to overcome, but the shows were quite memorable. Rick Kaempfer and his wife renewed their vows live on the air (for their tenth anniversary). The ceremony was perfect for the radio. It was a surprise for Rick’s wife, but every element of it was pre-approved by Rick and John.






There were visual elements (the bride arrived on horseback, the groom arrived on burro) and audio elements (music, crowd reaction, and an audio play by play provided by John), plus it was all captured by the digital camera and instantaneously placed on the station’s Web site.







The live audience felt like they were involved in something special. The show ended with Rick and Bridget, each holding one of their young sons, slow dancing to their wedding song. There wasn’t a dry eye in the audience, and the listeners at home got to listen to the song, and see the pictures on the Web site—a truly multi-media experience.






























The only problem with this wonderful moment, of course, is that whatever I do now for our 15th anniversary (Thursday) will pale in comparison.

I'll probably just get her a card.

Saturday, November 11, 2006

Guest Blogger: Shawn Wood

Shawn Wood is a commercial litigator and partner with the national law firm Seyfarth Shaw LLP. Shawn is also a monthly columnist for Chicago Lawyer magazine and a recipient of its Annual Writing Award. Most recently, he was honored by the Chicago Daily Law Bulletin as one of its "40 under 40 Attorneys To Watch" in 2005.

He has guest blogged here three times before (Shawn Wood 3, Shawn Wood 2, Shawn Wood 1), and they were all so well received, I asked him to do it one more time.


The following piece is his column from the October issue of "Chicago Lawyer." He's graciously allowing me to reprint it here.




DAZED AND CONFUSED IN COOK COUNTY CIRCUIT COURT

By Shawn Wood


The plaintiff's name is Robert Plants.

Despite the name similarity, he was never the lead singer of Led Zeppelin.

But he is hoping a Cook County jury shows him a Whole Lotta Love.

Mr. Plants recently filed a slip and fall case in the Circuit Court of Cook County. But this ain't your grandpa’s slip and fall case.

This was no slip on in icy parking lot or the broken jar of Ragu in Aisle 10 of your local Super Mercado.

Mr. Plants slipped and fell... in a porn shop. More specifically, he claims he fell at the back exit of the Adult Fantasy bookstore. He complains, among other things, that the stairs were not properly lit.

I'm no expert on structural design, but I do have a sense for why the back exit of this type of establishment might not be brightly illuminated. In fact, I'm chancing a guess that's why most patrons would be ducking out that back exit in the first place.

I do like picturing the smile on the face of the lawyer engaged to defend this case.

Imagine you're part of the beleaguered breed of defense lawyers who handle slip and fall cases (or as the marketing folks would prefer, “premises liability” cases) on a regular basis. While your colleagues are knee-deep in large dollar med mal cases, your dance card is filled with claims brought by folks who have trouble walking and chewing gum.

Then this case comes along. Too many affirmative defenses flood your brain. Contributory negligence from walking while distracted. Assumption of the risk of using that back exit. Unclean hands. Who wouldn’t want to give that closing argument?

By contrast, any plaintiff’s lawyer in this type of case would face a tough sell. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my client was minding his own business, innocently shopping for porn, when ‘BAM,’ he fell on a poorly lit stairwell at the back exit of an adult bookstore. If we don’t send a strong message to this defendant, what’s next? Strip clubs, brothels, all with improper lighting. We all might as well hang up our trenchcoats right now. Nowhere is safe.”

All kidding aside, I suppose if litigation addresses an injury or safety issue -- wherever it may happen—that’s never a bad thing.

And if it leads to remedial measures to the back stairway of the Adult Fantasies bookstore, all the better.

Maybe they’ll eveb rename the newly improved establishment. I’d suggest calling it, “Stairway to Heaven.”

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Half Empty: Thinking of the less fortunate this holiday season


They say that when you hit your 40s, your life is half over. We prefer to think of it as HALF EMPTY. Our age has finally caught up with our outlook on life. Remember, it is possible to turn that frown upside down...but you might pull a muscle.







Thinking of the Less Fortunate this Holiday Season

By Rick Kaempfer & Dave Stern





It’s seems like every columnist on the planet feels compelled to write a piece on helping the less fortunate this time of year. Since we don’t want to be labeled as insensitive and uncaring, here’s our obligatory sappy holiday column on helping mankind.

With all the worthwhile charities out there, it wasn’t easy picking the one we were going to support. Cancer, diabetes, heart disease, neglected children and abused women are all worthy of our attention. Nevertheless, we decided to go in a different direction than the traditional causes. The disease we chose is rarely talked about. There are no Walkathons or celebrity spokespersons to raise money for the unfortunate afflicted. It’s time for us to step up.

We are talking about those poor souls that suffer from ATMDS (ATM Deficiency Syndrome). It’s very sad to watch these simple people trying to navigate the complex protocols that today’s ATM’s demand, especially when you’re waiting patiently behind them. If you haven't witnessed this heartbreaking malady, here a few things to consider.

1) There are two types of ATM machines: "Insert & Suck" and "Swipe." Sadly, sufferers of ATMDS have problems with both types. For the “insert and suck” machines, ATMDS sufferers panic if they can't find the slot. It's even worse with "Swipe" machines. ATMDS sufferers become paralyzed with fear at the mere sight of one.

(Hint to Sufferers: For the "insert and suck" machines, the slot is usually right around the big sign that says INSERT CARD HERE. Some machines will even have a little picture that looks remarkably like your card. Those nice signs will also tell you which way the card should be facing. If you come across a “swipe” machine, just get in your car and find an “insert and suck” machine. You will never ever ever ever ever ever master the quick in and out motion required.)

2) ATMDS sufferers simply cannot remember PIN numbers.

(Hint to sufferers: Tattoo your PIN number right on your freakin arm. Please. In fact, we will pay for the tattoo. If you don’t want the tattoo thing, or you want to choose your number, please pick a number that you have a snowball's chance in hell of remembering...like say, your hourly wage.)

3) ATMDS sufferers have great difficulty planning ahead.

(Hint to sufferers: If you’re going to make a deposit, fill out the little envelope and endorse the checks BEFORE YOU GO TO THE MACHINE. Also, assume that the little pen at the bank is either going to be stolen or out of ink. And no, we don’t have a pen you can borrow. You see, we filled out all the appropriate paper work before we even went to the machine. Crazy huh?)

4) ATMDS sufferers are overwhelmed by the interactive options.

(Hint to Sufferers: There are usually only two language options…English and Spanish. If you only speak Polish or Klingon you’re out of luck. Hide your Euros and Darseks under your mattresses for our sake, OK?)

5) ATMDS sufferers have overactive finger smudge glands, creating horribly smudged finger-mosaics all over the screen.

(Hint to Sufferers: Use the key pad. If you don’t, we will personally lift your prints using techniques from CSI, and plant those grubby little piggy’s on a murder weapon.)

6) ATMDS sufferers cannot remember to take their card after use.

(Hint to Sufferers: On second thought, don’t tattoo your pin number on your arm, just write it on your card. We’ll make sure you get it back.)


There is something about the holidays that brings out the best in most of us. If you suffer from ATMDS, or know someone who does, please send us a check or money order. Until an actual charity is founded for these pour souls, we'll keep that money in an interest-bearing account.

Plus, we'll make you a promise. If you’re standing behind us at the ATM while we’re depositing your generous contributions, we won't make you wait.



If you missed any previous Half Empty columns, click here: http://halfemptyarchive.blogspot.com

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Suburban Man: Election Day


By Rick Kaempfer






When you’re a little kid, there’s really nobody in the world more impressive than the President of the United States. It doesn’t matter what your parent’s political affiliations are, the President is in charge of this whole country. If you aren’t impressed by that, you aren’t easily impressed. I guess my oldest son Tommy isn’t easily impressed.

I’ll let you judge for yourself if he is a fan of the current President. When I took him into the voting booth with me (as part of his Cub Scout requirement) in November of 2004, he was aghast when he thought I had voted for him. He screamed it—“Dad, I think you accidentally voted for George Bush!”

I smiled weakly at the old people voting alongside me in my staunchly Republican district. Tommy wouldn’t let it go. “Dad, you better ask for another ballot.”

I said “Don’t worry, Tommy.”

I’m not going to tell you if Tommy saw it correctly or not, because that’s why we have secret ballots. My Dad hammered that into my head every election day. I would ask him who he voted for, and he would say; “None of your business.” (All part of the touchy-feely German love we shared at my house). In this case, though, I think he was right. Don’t insist on your son believing in certain politics, let him find his own way in the world. If your party of choice can’t convince him, they don’t deserve his vote.

I’ve tried to follow the same model with my kids. As a humor writer, I’m admittedly always going to be poking more fun at people in power than those not in power, but other than the occasional joke—I try very hard not to get into “I’m right, you’re wrong” politics with my kids. There is no reason to make this into one of those “if you don’t believe what I believe, you can’t live under my roof” kind of homes. I learned my lesson about the effectiveness of that strategy when my rabid Cubs-love inadvertently turned my baby brother into a White Sox fan.

Which brings me to my middle son, Johnny. Johnny is a traditional kid. He respects authority. He loves the President. In fact, he thinks the President is just about the most impressive person in the world. I’ve actually seen him clap when Bush appeared on television. It’s kind of cute.

The morning after the last presidential election, the first thing Johnny asked me was: “Who won, Dad?”

I said; “George Bush”

He clapped, then raised his hands in the air triumphantly, screaming “Yeah!”

Tommy hung his head. He asked: “Was it legitimate this time?”

I said: “Looks like it.”

Johnny clapped again and said; “I can’t wait until I’m an eagle scout.”

Tommy and I looked at each with confused expressions. “Why is that Johnny?” I asked.

“Because then I can write a letter to the President!”

Someone along the way had obviously told Johnny that writing a letter to the President was among the perks of being an Eagle. When I mentioned to him that he didn’t have to wait until becoming an Eagle, he was so excited he went downstairs and wrote it immediately. Keep in mind that he was in 1st grade at the time, and was just beginning to learn how to write. This is what he wrote:

“Dear Mr. President: My name is Johnny. I’m 6 ½ years old. I have 2 brothers. Their names are Tommy and Sean. I like your job a lot. I’m only a Tiger Cub Scout. Well, that’s not all, Mr. President. I hope you have a nice day today. You’re my fav! From Johnny Kaempfer”


I love that letter.

I got the address to the White House and made him address the letter himself, figuring there was a better chance of getting a response if the envelope was clearly addressed by a little kid. For the next few weeks, every day after school Johnny would ask me if the President had written him back yet. I could see the disappointment in his eyes when I told him he hadn’t. I told him that the President receives millions of letters, and he can’t possibly answer all of them.

A few months later a big manila envelope arrived with the return address: THE WHITE HOUSE. I must admit, I was shocked. Johnny set his own personal vertical jump record (about three inches—Kaempfers can’t jump) when I showed it to him.

“Oh boy!”

I helped him open it. It was picture of George and Laura Bush, and a letter addressed to Johnny. Here’s a scanned copy of the letter...













I know, I know. It's way too hard to read at this size. Here is what the letter says:

“Dear Johnny,

Thank you for writing. I always enjoy hearing from young Americans. During this important time in our history, you can help America by setting high goals, working hard in school, and helping others in your community. Our country needs your idealism, hope, and energy.

I also encourage you to strive to learn something new every day. You can read more about issues that interest you, current events, and the history of our country by visiting your library or by logging onto the White House websites, www.whitehousekids.gov and www.whitehouse.gov. By understanding the events of today and learning more about our past, you can become a responsible citizen and help make the world a better place.

Mrs. Bush and I send our best wishes for your future success.

Sincerely,

George W. Bush”

Johnny will savor that letter for the rest of his life. Tommy wasn't impressed in the slightest.

As you can see, my two oldest children have slightly different political points of view. I agree with one of them more than the other, but is there a reason to pick sides? It’s not like it’s important. This isn’t like the Cubs-White Sox issue. One side isn’t always right, and the other side isn’t always wrong.

The only certainty is that both of them are wrong sometimes. To think otherwise kills your sense of humor. Look at what it’s done to Dennis Miller and Al Franken. Those guys used to be funny.

Raising a Democrat (Tommy), a Republican (Johnny), and an Independent (Sean) is just fine with me, because they'll realize there is more than one perspective in the world.

Raising a humorless kid?

I don't think I could ever forgive myself.


If you missed any previous Suburban Man columns, click here: http://suburbanmanarchive.blogspot.com