The Oppenheimer Report - 12/28/15

This time last year ...

Wednesday was a special day for Shauna and me. We headed in to the Hunters Bay Radio station at noon to see Bet Smith and the Currie Brothers put on a surprise, live on-air concert for the unsuspecting and ailing James Carroll. The performance was grand – I’d never seen the band play live, although I am a fan of Bet’s songs and her new EP Loose Ends – and the whole thing left me and Shauna with good vibes about the holidays. While not a fan of Christmas, last Wednesday, I had a chance to see the good side of the holiday. Andrew and Rob Currie closed down their thriving music store in Gravenhurst for a few hours, on one of the busiest days of the season, in order to do the gig. They simply wanted to thank James for all his radio support, and it meant the world to him. Shauna and I were buzzing after the concert, so much so that afterwards, we broke into spontaneous dance in the dairy aisle of Robinson’s supermarket, singing in terrible harmony Torme’s The Christmas Song (“Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire”). Some lady standing not far away from us, who previously had a holiday scowl on her face, saw us making fools of ourselves and began to sing along. Lunacy can be contagious.

 

I woke up the morning of Christmas Eve to the sound of high winds, looked out the window, and don’t think I’ve ever seen the lake so churned up and angry. These were freight train winds, rattling the doors and bending the trees. There were tree limbs scattered about the yard when I took Jasper out for her morning walk, but other than that, there were no trees down across the drive. I was relieved that there was no need to use the chain saw for some emergency cleanup. Not so fast! The winds continued to howl throughout the morning, as a cold front marched in to collide with the unseasonably warm air we’d been enjoying. By 2pm, the power went out, which I’d half-expected, but what I did not expect was that our generator would fail. Propane-fired, our generator is set up to turn on automatically when the power goes out, and it has done so faithfully, at least fifty times over the past eight years of power outages. Upon inspecting it, I noticed that the little indicator lights were not on. I stared blankly at it for about fifteen seconds, opened the one panel that was not locked, and came to the abrupt conclusion that we were screwed. Cold weather was blowing in, and now the power was out, on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, when every electrician within a hundred miles of Huntsville had buggered off for the weekend. No water, no lights, no heat. Thankfully, the weather was mild and the outage only lasted about 9.5 hours. It could have been much worse. I’m expecting the electrician will get here today (he’s had several frantic messages from me), before the big storm rolling in from Texas knocks out our power again. Fingers crossed.

 

While I took a row in my little boat Christmas day, El Nino proved to be a kick in the butt for the southern and mid-western regions of the U.S. Yesterday, the Dallas area experienced F3 and F4 tornadoes that caused widespread destruction and multiple casualties. Our unseasonably warm weather seems to be over and we are bracing for the first winter storm of the season. It should start to roll in this evening.

 

It’s that time of year when I reflect on the year that has passed and make resolutions for the New Year. My aspirations are as lofty as they have always been: peace on earth, good will towards men. On a more personal note, I aspire to continue to do things that challenge me. Along those lines, I begin to host "Talent on the Bay" a week from Wednesday, an hour long radio show wherein I'll interview local artists and have them perform live. I’m nervous, but looking forward to it. Happy New Year everyone, hope it is a good one for all of us!  

- Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 12/21/15

I am fascinated by the myth of Krampus, that monster who disposes of naughty children shortly before Christmas. I understand there is even a new holiday horror flick dealing with the subject. Krampus is the anti-Santa, or the yin to Santa’s yang if you will, and I first learned of him several years ago when I did an Oppenheimer Report on the subject. It just makes sense that, if there is going to be a Santa for all the good little girls and boys, there ought to be someone on the team to clear out all the bad apples as well. Santa has enough on his plate without having to decide who’s naughty and who’s nice. Krampus is apparently cause for a celebration in Austria, and on Krampusnacht, or Krampus night, people dress up in outrageously demonic Krampus costumes, sometimes getting a bit liquored up, they parade around town harassing parade goers, and generally behave like football fans at a tailgate party. While the whole thing seems a little weird, I am in favor of any tradition that tempers the sometimes over-the-top enforced gaiety and materialism that has regrettably come to characterize Christmas.

Anyhow, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to my twelve loyals readers, and especially to my good friend James Carroll,  Program Director, Producer, Host, and Editor at Hunters Bay Radio, who is very sick right now and facing his challenges with courage and dignity. James, you are a good man, whose achievements in life are too numerous to list, and I love you like a brother.

To follow is one of my very first holiday “reports”, written around 22 years ago, before I began to edit for offensiveness.  I wrote the very first one the year before, but upon re-reading it, it is not appropriate for a public blog. Yes, believe it or not, I have toned things down a bit over the years. This one is a bit politically incorrect, but nowhere near as bad as some of the reports were. Some of the references in this report are a little dated (one of the big issues at the time was acknowledging gays in the military) but it might be interesting to some of you how far I have not come. Perhaps some of my “twelve loyal readers” will remember this one. Happy holidays to one and all. Thanks for reading!

12/7/93 .....

Three months in the Betty Ford Clinic and Santa is a new elf. No more substance abuse, no more drinking, and no more fooling around with the reindeer. Last year's FWI (flying while intoxicated) put a real cramp in his style. He had to send everything out Federal Express because he couldn't fly, and it really put him in the hole financially. So this year, Santa is clean and sober and ready to roll.

That's a good thing because he has some major problems with which to deal. His liability insurance premiums have gone through the roof, literally. In 1991, there was an unresolved $5 Million class action suit brought against Santa and North Pole Partners Inc. for roof damage to thirteen homes on Long Island. Doesn't it figure those litigious pricks in downstate N.Y. would sue Santa?! What do you expect in the state where the governor plunders billions from state pension funds to balance the budget? Ho friggin' ho.

Then there was that equal opportunity issue. The Feds are on his back because, try as he may, Santa has not been able to fill the required quota of African American elves on his payroll. While there seems to be no shortage of Hispanic and Asian elves, the fact is, there just aren't that many Black elves out there willing to work for candy. The few that there are, get scooped up for big buck holiday T.V commercials.

Look for some new toys in the marketplace this season. If your child is a stargazer, why not buy him a scale model of the Hubble Telescope. It comes complete with an eye chart and a list of excuses used by real-life NASA scientists for why everything's blurry. Expensive custom replacement lenses sold separately.

For the politically correct child, how about the new GI Bruce doll. Throw him in the foxhole with your Chuck Norris or Mr. T doll and watch the sparks fly. Your child will have hours of fun, showering homophobic abuse on this fun-loving scapegoat of military intolerance. Color coordinated fatigue ensembles and "civies" sold separately.

And finally, for the Nintendo or SEGA junkie in your household, how about the new video game called “LA is burning". You are a promising young actor who just has to make that final audition. You've got the job if you show up, but uh oh! First you have to GET there. The fun begins as you set out from your trendy bungalow in Venice, only to experience the labyrinthine perils of everyday existence in L.A. Weave through the highway and drive-by shootings, gang warfare, race riots, police harassment, destructive brush fires, snooty, arrogant rich people and overpriced restaurants, snooty, arrogant poor people who work as waiters in overpriced restaurants - crime pestilence, greed....this game has it all. And it's going to take more than a joy stick to get you through this one kids ... are you up to the challenge? Don't forget your mace!  Gosh I love this time of year.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c1993  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 12/14/15

Limited by one's ability to sustain a pulse

In keeping with the North American obsession to lust for ridiculously unhealthful food, Wendy’s Hamburgers is presently advertising a bacon cheeseburger with some kind of white drippy cheese sauce oozing out the sides. For a few dollars more, one can purchase the accompanying and equally artery-clogging bacon-covered French fries, drenched in even more white ooze. To be honest, it looked somewhat appetizing to me, in a heart attack-inducing sort of way. The problem with all of these well-photographed junk foods is that, in reality, they don’t look anything like they do in the ads. Every once in a blue moon I’ll succumb to a Big Mac (heart) attack, and when I do, I cannot adequately describe my disappointment when I unwrap my guilty pleasure. The burger patties are about the size of fifty cent pieces, the un-ripened tomato is pale orange, the rest of the ingredients are squeezing out the sides like a waterfall of puss and shredded salad. The burger looks as if it had been stepped on, and the whole package is about as appetizing as three day-old road kill. I suppose when they make five billion of these things per day, presentation suffers. Maybe they can’t all look like the perfectly stacked burger in the photo, but perhaps they could look better than squashed raccoon.

 

I received an email from my friend Harve the other day, and Harve is one of my biggest fans. He’s been reading this report on and off for a long time, perhaps as long as I’ve been writing it, and he also listens to the radio show. He read me the riot act in this email because he said I’ve become too steeped in gloom and doom of late. He’s right of course, and I have let my negativity run rampant lately. Sorry about that.  Long ago I remember some wellness guru, perhaps Andrew Weil, advising his listeners to avoid watching the news, because the news is always hopeless and depressing. I am especially astounded by all the nonsense surrounding Donald Trump, and I am embarrassed by what the rest of the world must be thinking of America. Still, I suppose I need to take a deep breath, as Harve advises, and laugh at the craziness. Believe me, Americans are not crazier than the rest of the world; it just seems that way.

 

I watched SNL last Saturday night and this was the subject of the Weekend Update segment, typically my favorite part of that show. The gist of the sarcastic commentary was that Trump was probably not a racist, as so many are convinced, but merely playing the Islamophobia card to win over the crazy religious right wing nut balls who seem to have hijacked the Republican Party. As much as they were poking fun at the insanity of Trump’s nonsense, there may be some truth to the theory. I view Donald Trump and his handlers with the same bemused detachment I view a hyperbolic WWE wrestling celebrity. Sadly, isn’t this what American politics has become? What I find far more interesting is that Trump, and to a much lesser extent Democratic nut ball Bernie Saunders, represent huge threats to the status quo. Their numbers don’t lie; a lot of people are following them. They are circumnavigating the conventional, money-sucking vortex of PACS and special interest lobbyists, and this might be a good thing. Don’t get me wrong – I cannot stand Trump. His arrogance and his stupid, childish bullying offend me, as I suppose they do most thinking human beings. Yes, Donald Trump is a public relations nightmare for America, and he is appealing to the lowest common denominator of the American public, but at the same time he is shot across the bow of a broken and corrupt political system. I don’t think he is as ignorant as he comes across; I think he’s playing to the center. He largely funds himself, and if nothing else good comes from his campaign, it might redefine the center of the Republican party. To me the guy is the canary in the coal mine, warning us of how clueless our electorate and our power elite have become. Can he win? I think the media and the money changers will shut him down eventually. They’re doing a pretty good job of painting him as Adolph Hitler in the mid 30s. Ironically, the electorate doesn't seem to care. 

 

One final humorous note, on the subject of self-help:  there was a segment on the news last night about power posing which made me chuckle. Everybody knows how big the Marvel franchise has grown, and superheroes are all the rage these days. Apparently, some researcher has discovered that striking a super hero pose, with erect posture, hands firmly placed on one’s hips, for about two minutes, will noticeably increase one’s confidence and productivity. So if you’re nervous about that big meeting, or about to be introduced to your fiancée’s parents, just hop into a bathroom stall and pose like Batman or Wonder Woman for two minutes. I prefer my tapping therapy, but hey, whatever floats your boat. Next Monday, I will post my very first Santa report, written back to the early days of this report. Seasons beatings to one and all! Relax Harve, I’ll try to lighten up for the new year.

 

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 12/7/15

A month or so ago, I spent a couple of hours in the hospital with a friend who went in complaining of respiratory problems. A chronic smoker, he was clearly oxygen-deprived and frightened. He underwent a battery of tests, including a CT scan. The long and the short of it is that he found out last week he has developed lung cancer. I have known this man for about two years, but even in that short period of time, I have grown to respect and admire his many accomplishments. He and I are the same age, and his bad news hit me hard. The next step will be a biopsy and other tests to determine if the cancer has spread and if it is operable. His prognosis is by no means a death sentence, but I can’t imagine what is going through his head right now. This recent diagnosis is just one of the many nagging voices in my head that cries “don’t do this, and don’t do that.” With every peer who falls ill, I become more acutely aware of my own mortality. Of late, and especially with the omnipresent “THEY are out to kill us!” media blitz, it seems that mortality has become my obsession. With every stiff joint or sharp pain comes the little voice asking, “Is this serious, should I be concerned?” Hypochondria has begun to worm its way into my life, and I feel somewhat ashamed about that.
 

Everyone has a cancer story. A cousin of mine in Toronto is a survivor of colon cancer. Before his diagnosis and surgery many years ago, he was a driven, ambitious businessman who spent a lot of time on the road. Now, after several surgeries and a myriad of lifestyle changes, his vocation has become secondary to his family and to his fundraising efforts on behalf of colon cancer research. So far, he has remained healthy, but more importantly, his priorities have changed. I would wager that each day of his “new” life is more valuable to him than months of the life he led before he became ill. I know he is reading this report, as he does every week, and I want him to know his journey and his transformation have been a life lesson and an inspiration to me.

Well over a decade’s worth of these weekly reports have been vacuous nonsense reflecting my cynical, sometimes sarcastic, and often uninformed take on current events. I rant about reality television, self-absorbed and overpaid celebrities, corrupt and inept politicians, bizarre world events, and the general downward spiral of mankind. More often than not, I try to be funny, because humor has been my coping mechanism to process the depressing over-abundance of “information” I reluctantly absorb. My self-indulgent ramblings are a catharsis, and that is what writing has always been for me. What I am only beginning to realize, and perhaps the reason why I have been so uncharacteristically philosophical of late, is that I have become more focused on judging people by their actions, and not their words. In my community alone, I have found many to admire and, dare I say it, love.
 

In the past few weeks, I have been reading about a therapy called tapping, recommended to us by Shauna’s massage therapist, and it is a way of neutralizing stress. Not unlike meditation, tapping is a way of coming to terms with destructive thoughts in order to keep them from harming the body. I think it is helping me cope with my increasing anxiousness. The more I read on the subject, both psychological and physical trauma remain within us long after we think they are gone. The theory is that there are corridors to the brain which, when tapped into, can process and compartmentalize toxic thoughts before they cause us unnecessary and counter-productive pain. The book is called The Tapping Solution if you are curious. In this age of too much information and not enough truth, I seek a remedy to the overwhelming sense of dread I sometimes feel. I won’t apologize for my lack of levity, because this blog is fairly close to who I am. I will likely return to my twisted, gallows humor fiction soon. In the meantime, be good to your friends and family, and I will try to do the same.    - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED