The i-Phone

Las Vegas

Recently I did a quickie Business trip to Lost Wages. Brutal. Got on a plane at 6am. Waited in Charlotte for an hour and a half, then got on the connection for a four and half hour, fun filled and uncomfortable flight to a large speck in the middle of nowhere. The high that day in Las Vegas was 104 degrees, whew, toasty!

Have you noticed that the airlines have turned into the old Mexican bus companies? I remember seeing the old blue buses in Tijuana crammed with too many people and they all had chickens in cages and goats on leashes. Usually the buses were so overcrowded that some of the bus riders were hanging out the windows. Now it seems anyone and everyone flies. The airlines pack you in like sardines in a tin box. 150+ people sitting three across with their chickens in crates and over sized personal carry on bags crammed beneath seats designed for people with small butts. Absolutely no room to move, very painful and a little smelly-The airlines should pay us to fly. Thought I was on the Mexican Blue Bus to Ensenada!

How about that airline food? Or maybe the lack of airline food. I opened the smallest raisin box in the history of mankind, it might have had twenty raisins tops o.k. maybe it was twelve raisins. Bottled Water now comes in the eighth of a bottle size---I call them two gulps and you're done. Airlines must import in their food from a parallel universe where people are all 13 inches high...why bother? Every time I fly there is some new innovative way to cut costs...the air conditioning is barely on as we taxi out to the runway and they don't start up the other jet engine until just before they are #1 for take-off---enough already!

There are also waaay too many "guys" posing as Flight Attendants...who wants some hairy guy who shaves his back asking you if you would like coffee or Hot Tea? I don't even know of any women who have that desire; besides most of these guys are gay...I hardly ever see Hispanic or Asian women as Flight Attendants on Domestic Flights, very few African Americans, what's up with that?

I arrive in Vegas and get a cab to the Hotel. Thought it wise to check-in, freshen up by throwing water on my face and change into a business suit for the business meeting. I wrestled long and hard with this "suit and tie" notion, given that even birds were not flying that day because of the intense Summer heat, but hey, it's Vegas and you gotta look good. The majority of people I ran into that day in Las Vegas looked like they just got out of bed, even the guy I met with had no tie...what was I thinking!? Anyway, I go with the suit, I go to hail a taxi and the very same woman who just dropped me off 45 minutes ago is the same cabbie picking me up to go to East Tropicana--what are the odds? In fact, she starts freaking on the whole event. Friendly though, a chatty older woman talking about her dogs in Vegas...during the ride, I made a phone call, put my phone on my belt clip and guess what? It pops off as I was getting out of the cab and now I have no cell phone. I immediately call the cab company to let them know I was just dropped off and my phone is in their cab...they don't really give a rats ass about it. They make a lame attempt of hailing drivers over the radio and saying no one responded...Freaking wonderful...I'm in Las Vegas, it's a Million degrees in the shade and I've lost every phone number in my cell phone...it's not really losing the cell phone that bothers me, it's all of the numbers stored in the damn thing...gone, lost, adios, too bad, tough luck. I had turned off the ringer in anticipation of being in a business meeting--so forget telling me I should have just called the phone.

What happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas. What's lost in Vegas, also stays in Vegas...money, jewelry, cell phones, wallets, your feeble mind...nothing is safe. Money seems to disappear with each step in Vegas. What's really painful to watch are the poor bastards waiting to leave Vegas at the airport feeding the slots with their last five dollars...whoops that would be me. Pathetic.

Meeting went well. Could not wait to leave. Getting a cab to leave seemed like an eternity. Got back to the hotel, changed into normal desert survival clothing and took a quick tour of the Hotel and Casino. It seems like everyone around you is losing money in the casino...you can really see it some of these poor bastards' eyes; that glazed over, empty, I just lost my entire life savings type of look. You can find them hovering around the many ATM machines in the casinos...or the bars...they ain't drinking, they are wishin they were drinkin...if they just had some money, they could have a nice drink and win all that lost money back....yeah right.

Let's face it. Las Vegas is designed to take your money and keep it. The odds are in favor of the House....ALWAYS. They may let you have the temporary "happy" feeling of winning, but in the end the casino will get back any money they "gave" you and then some. You WIN in Vegas if you can take in a show for FREE, eat a couple of good meals, get a "comp'd" room and break even on the alloted gambling money you may have brought along on your little family vacation or business trip. Never believe though that you will actually take a big wad of cash from the casino and deposit in your Des Moines Iowa Bank account back home--NOT gonna happen.

I ended up having some cheap pizza and a Corona for dinner and turning in early. The temptation to sit at a blackjack table was pretty strong though. I was proud of my "just say no" attitude and was content watching TV in my room...besides, I had some thinking to do about what brought me to Vegas that day, the meeting I attended and what the potential results might be. My internal time clock was a mess, so I really needed the time to chill out, rest and think...hmmm no cell phone now what?

I have to say that not having a cell phone for 24 hours and traveling was driving me a little nutty, however, I realized just how idiotic a cell phone is, especially when you observe and listen to others using their cell phones..."Hi, I'm at the airport, yeah uh huh, waiting for the plane, picking my nose hairs, you know...hopefully it won't be late, well gotta run, bye." As soon as they hang up they are talking to yet another person about "nothing". You begin to wonder if there isn't a greater need to just be connected to someone familiar at all times, especially when you are in unfamiliar or uncomfortable situations like an airport...too weird...now my head hurts.

As my favorite comic Denis Leary would say, "Shut the Hell up, just get your whiny ass on the freaking bus...uhhh the airplane!

The U.S. Open 2007 Oakmont CC

Whenever you think you are really GOOD at golf this weekend, watch the carnage at the U.S. Open. 7,230 yards of pure terror to the world's BEST golfers.

Golf is simply a game to be played and you better come to the greens with some respect.

Thankful...Sometimes We Forget to be...

As a golfer, uhh weekend hacker who respects the game of golf, I greatly admire the heroes of the game like Ben Hogan. Ben Hogan is special for his work ethic and overcoming a huge personal trauma where doctors told him he would never play golf again. He won more majors following his tragic car accident and injuries than before. Hogan was in the top ten 83% of the time out of over 300 tournaments. He won 9 of 16 Majors between 1946 and 1953, six of those majors followed his Summer of 1949 Car Accident in West Texas. 1953 was an exceptional year winning all three majors he entered just four years after nearly dying on a foggy West Texas road.

My wife bought me a set of Ben Hogan irons, years ago. I should take better care of them.

Ben Hogan reminds me that I am a lucky guy. Despite setbacks and enduring low points in life there is much to be thankful for. Sometimes we forget to be Thankful.

I am Thankful...

that I have a wife who loves me, lets me play golf and buys me Ben Hogan irons ;>)

that I am physically able to play golf and enjoy the game, playing in the grass and the fresh air.

that I have people in my life that love me and care about me.

that I have healthy kids.

that I find happiness in my animals and they find happiness in me.

that I have a talent and am able to make a living with that talent.

that I have had the opportunity to share what I know with others.

that I am able to Travel and see the world, hear the world and experience all of the wonderful things the world has to offer.

that I am healthy despite having to take medication and not always doing the right thing.

that I have never seen or experienced the real tragedy of war and death while serving my Country in the military.

that I have survived and grown from the terrible grief that comes when someone you love dies.

that I never bought a Bee Gees or STYX album.

There's probably a lot more to be thankful for...just give me a moment.

ROCKY Part II

You ever heard of a talking dog? We have one.

The Obituary

Some people might call it morbid fascination, but ever since I turned 50, I always check out the local Obituaries,

"...wow Jonah you have waayyyy too much time on your hands."

The scary part is when you read about these folks and they are your age or younger. He was a gardener, blah blah blah, he enjoyed the outdoors, blah, blah, he was an accomplished bingo player, blah, ba-blah, blah-blah! Ironically, you never hear how the dead bastard used to beat his wife or lock his kids in the dark basement, they are always loving...

So I decided to write my own Obituary...I really had a difficult time coming up with anything worthwhile, sort of sad really but a great exercise and a wonderful motivator to get my ass in gear and make a difference dammit!

Jonah Parker Cummings II, a radio broadcaster also known as Jon Robbins died today. Jonah was born on March 13, 1954 and is survived by his wife of ten years Florence Joy Cummings, Raleigh, a saint of a woman who Jonah should have treated better; Son Jonah Christian Cummings, Chapel Hill; Son Connor Scout Cummings, Raleigh; Sister, Tracy Cummings; Sister Carmela Sasaki; Brother David Phillips; Brother, Andrew Cummings, Brother, Norman Cummings and Celene Edmonds, a horrid, blood sucking little troll who lives off of pond scum and was his trailer trash ex-wife and mother of his youngest son. Jonah was predeceased by his Father Jonah Parker Cummings, Mother Zela DeBarro, Sister Coral-Ann Cummings and his oldest Son’s Mother Ruth Krauss-Cummings.

Jonah was born in Gulfport, Mississippi and called California home. He played football, made ok grades, did really stupid stuff and graduated from Huntington Beach High School in 1972. He enlisted in the U.S. Army and served as Missle Specialist for the 1st Armored Division in Schwabach, Germany. Following three years of active duty Jonah was honorably discharged in 1975 as a Vietnam Era Veteran. Jonah Cummings attended Humboldt State University, Arcata, California majoring in Journalism and had aspirations to become a serious journalist and writer exposing corrupt politicians and making the world a better place. Instead he dropped out after three years became a low-life Radio DJ spinning everything from Rubber Band Man to The Grateful Dead. Jonah began his broadcasting career in Eureka, CA at KFMI-FM and spent thirty plus years in Radio as an On-Air Talent, News Director, Program Director and Regional VP/Programming in Washington D.C.; Seattle; Spokane; Portland; Eugene; Corvallis; Minneapolis; Sacramento; Raleigh; Detroit; Springfield/Hartford and Charleston, SC. He was active in various charities and organizations including Make-A-Wish and Crimestoppers. He left radio in 2007 and became a political blogger, human rights activist and ball shagger at Rusty’s golf driving range. Golf was a game Jonah passionately enjoyed; he never had a hole in one or scored a round under par, but he did play the Princeville Course in Kauai and holed out an Eagle on a par 4 one time. He also loved to travel throughout Europe, Hawaii, and North America wreaking havoc and conducting classes on wine tasting with the locals daily at 6pm. When Jonah died he was an unemployed loser living off the wages his wife made as a Dog Groomer forced to squeeze anal glands on stupid stinking little dogs. His rotting body will be placed in a Hefty Garbage Bag and set out at curbside this Wednesday evening for Trash pick-up on Thursday morning. In lieu of flowers, send money to pay the Garbageman.

Golf-The Game That Comes and Goes

Was invited out to Eagle Ridge by Bob "The Blade" Robinson. He owed me for a round last year at The Preserve-so now we're even.

Had the pleasure of working with Bob up until I accepted a nice severance package from CC in September last year. The Blade has been around for years in Raleigh radio on WRDU. After the new guys from Charlotte came in and RDU flipped to Country & Western back in November, Blade lasted for maybe a week before walking off the set to the sounds of The Who...bold ballsy move, but I think everyone who knew Blade appreciated the gesture...screw the man...chalk one up for the working stiff. Isn't it funny how they don't call it Country AND WESTERN anymore?

Blade ended up in New Bern-Greenville on Classic Rock WSFL where he is happy, though broke to put it in his words. He's working and he's living close to The Atlantic---not bad in my opinion...it's always nice to have more money, but as I commented during our Golf Game yesterday, it's amazing how long you go without any money and cited myself as an example.

The Golf Round included Mark Brown a friend of Blade's who works at Heritage in the Pro Shop, a funny guy who apparently loves Sammy Davis imitations...Blade and Mark had fun talking up the Lounge Lizards...we'll be here all week, try the prime rib, tip the waitress and don't forget Fish Fry Friday...the impressions were endless...we all had trouble remembering who exactly was in the Rat Pack...Frank Sinatra of course, head rat, Sammy Davis Jr., Dean Martin (he was not even mentioned by anyone during the course of this meandering conversation), Peter Lawford---but the elusive "rat" I could see in my mind's eye but could not remember his name was Joey Bishop. Joey Fucking Bishop. I can rest easy now, but maybe should consider buying some ginkgo.

Saturday Golf was decent until the back 9, (a double on a par five and a triple on a freaking par three--13 fucking strokes in two holes---should have quit after nine) in fact had a 42 to Blade's 43 on the front 9 which I knew just pissed him off---Blade is very serious about his golf which is cool, but it's just a game to me and I know I am just a weekend hacker who lives in the eighties and low nineties---every once in a while this blind squirrel finds a nut and I'll shoot a sub 80 score---let's see--three times in ten years...did I say Weekend Hacker? Hey when you play once maybe twice a week and seldom practice what can anyone expect? There won't be any fantasies of Senior PGA floating around in my head...maybe a weekend at Pinehurst, just to say I've played it. Golf does not define my life---like it, love to play, respect the game, enjoy the camaraderie, like to compete but will never play for money, will never throw clubs into a lake and will never give myself a score higher than an eight unless I am in a Tournament like member-guest or in a rare instance of playing "Follow The Wolf".

Golf is a difficult game. Everything must come together perfectly to have a decent round and score. You can drive the ball a mile one day but suck at putting or you could be sinking all your putts but you spent three or four strokes trying to get on the green...you could have driving and putting down but spend the day chili dipping your chip shots or dealing with the dreaded "S" word. When you consider what pros must do (putting four good scores together on consecutive days)--it's a game you certainly learn to respect. Don't get me wrong, I aspire to be better, but only within the context of what I have invested. If I am not playing and practicing everyday, my expectations are not going to be high-I don't want to be miserable all the time. If I am at the range everyday working on my game fundamentals and playing three to four rounds a week and I am still not very good, then I need lessons and a lot of them!

91 today. A 13 stroke swing from just a few days ago...now that's consistency.

Ouch babe, that hurts. We'll be here all week....