The radio station I work at, WIP, recently had an event titled PLAY DAY. It was a fun nostalgic day where games like Step Ball, Soft Ball, and Street Hockey were played at South Philly’s FDR Park. A real family day.

It got me to thinking. Thank God WIP didn’t feature the “alternative” street games I grew up “playing” at Finnegan Playground in Southwest Philly. Bloodcurdling, vicious “games” perpetrated by the neighborhood’s “oldhead” on its “younghead.” I’m not even sure the concept of “younghead” and “oldhead” even exists anymore. When I grew up, NO ONE STAYED HOME. You were always out on the corner or the playground. There were so many thousands of grubby kids squeezed into one block, turf wars were always rising up. When you weren’t fighting another neighborhood, you fought each other. Hence, “oldhead/younghead” wars. An “oldhead” was any dude who was two or three years older than a “younghead.” When there was simply nothing else to do, inevitably some “oldhead” would stand up and say, “Let’s beat some younghead ass!” When they got bored with simply physically pummeling them, they would force them to participate in these “games.” Here’s a few that might bring on a nightmare or two. READ MORE

“We’ll meet again. Don’t know where, don’t know when.
But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.”

Those are the lyrics of an old World War II hit sung by a British songstress named Vera Lynn. I highly recommend you catch it on YouTube to get the full effect of this piece. It’s REALLY over the top and incredibly corny and sentimental.

And I love it. So did my mother. She sang it all the time while she was ironing. The lyric of the song was originally intended to be about women singing these words to their men as they marched off to war. “Don’t worry, honey, this war will be over some day and we’ll meet again, some sunny day.” READ MORE

I been approached by a publishing house to produce and write a book called Jersey Shore Drunk Stories. It would be a mish-mash collection of stories of my own and those told by others, with a celebrity yarn or there.

Not that the Jersey Shore is all about drunks and wild times. In fact, what I have always loved about the shore was how much it has to offer. If you wanna just chill out all day at the beach and call it an early night, well, that’s there for you. There is great food and fishing and rides for the kids ( and the young at heart).  There is a bunch of different directions you can choose to go with your day. READ MORE

I couldn’t begin to list all that I love about Sea Isle. Its beautiful, perfect-length beaches. Standing in the middle of Pleasure Avenue between Braca Cafe and Dalrymples and realizing that very little has changed about that spot of the planet in decades. “Christmas in July” on 35th St. Waiting in line in the singular most insane Wawa in the world behind women in bikinis buying packs of Parliaments. (Whoops, I think I’ve used that line before in a pervious article.)

The parties. The bikes. Reading on the beach. Carrying kegs up a flight of steps. Talking a nap on the deck. Playing ball on JFK Blvd. That older-than-dirt Acme. I don’t have time to list all the reasons. You wouldn’t have time to read them all. READ MORE

Geez, what a scam this Inception flick is pulling off. If you love the film, great. If you don’t, it’s BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T GET IT and you better go see it again. Now, I fell somewhere in the middle. There were certainly moments where I was confused, but it wasn’t because I thought I was too stupid to understand it. I just thought it was sloppy, convoluted writing and I simply stopped caring about everything that was going on up on the screen.

It was enjoyable enough, had good performances and excellent effects, but the movie never ultimately tugged at my heart like all great movies should do. READ MORE

Who are rappers so pissed off at?

Look, I like a lot of rap, I really do.  For a middle-aged white guy not raised on it, I have more than a fair amount of it on my iPod. I find the beats fun, the sampling creative, and many of the voices captivating and charismatic.

BUT WHO ARE THEY SO PISSED OFF AT? On SO many tracks, there is a constant undercurrent of “woe is me, the whole world hates me” vibe.  And for the life of me I can never figure out who they’re talking about. If it’s a chick or the government, I get that. Marvin Gaye recorded tons of brokenhearted songs and Green Day is always pissed at the government.  We can ALL identify with that feeling. READ MORE

And the winner is?  The UA Riverview on Columbus Blvd.  I wish there was a plaque or a trophy I could give them because they have so earned it.  The experience is so bad, it’s actually comical.

Often throughout my 14-year career as overnight host at WIP, I have been stuck in a time no-man’s land. I will have just finished performing at a private party in Pennsylvania.  It might be 1030 p.m. I have to figure out if it is worth it for me to drive all the way back into Jersey, just to get back in the car at 1 a.m. to drive back to City Ave., which is where WIP is located. READ MORE

ON THE MEDICAL FRONT  (THOUGHT I WAS DONE WITH THIS)
In case you didn’t know I had throat cancer and I was out of commission for 100 days. I’m told the tumor is gone, and all my radiation and chemo have been done for two months now. When people see or call me on the air,  they all say the same thing: “Glad you’re feeling better.”

But I’m not. I am down to 188 pounds, which might have been my EIGHTH GRADE weight.  A week ago I was beginning to eat a little here, a bite there, and I had scratched and clawed myself up to 196.  Then it all went to pot (I wish). Everything started tasting like wet cement and I totally stopped eating solid food again. I am so weak that just switching sides on the pillow takes massive strength. If Elaine Benes gave me one of those little chest shoves she’d push me into the middle of next week. READ MORE

Amongst men, REAL MEN, The Godfather is generally considered to be the Greatest Movie Ever Made. There’s barely a man alive worth his salt who can’t quote entire passages from it. It’s a perfect film that over the decades has generated two minor arguments that could be considered flaws.

One, it’s not as good as Godfather II. This is utter nonsense. II does not have Sonny Corleone. They shot him in the first one. Out on the Causeway. Remember? That alone (although there are many other reasons) separates the original from the sequel Not that I don’t love II, I do, but facts are facts and it simply does not stand up to The Godfather. READ MORE

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Famous book, famous movie. Had I written that book based on my surroundings it would have been called A Swimming Pool Opens in Southwest Philly. That’s how important that day was to every grubby child who ever ran away from a cop because someone had just opened a fire hydrant. While no day tops Christmas morning to a kid, the opening of the public swimming pool sure came damn close.

It was a world before air conditioning. NOTHING had air conditioning. Cars didn’t have it. Trolleys didn’t have it. Schools didn’t have it! Can you imagine that? Schools without air conditioning? It was awful enough getting the shit kicked out of you by Sister Charles Bronson day after day, but to sit at the same desk, hour after hour, sweating like Mike Tyson at a beauty pageant, was just too much.

Ask any cop who works a tough rowhome area of the city and they’ll tell you how quickly violence will erupt when the heat and humidity are
off the charts. (By the way, wouldn’t you just love to nail the
jackass who first coined “it ain’t the heat, it’s the humidity?” IT’S
FUCKING HOT! Who gives a shit why it is?) Everyone living right on
top of each other. It’s a wonder there’s not more murders during the summer. READ MORE