Ponderings and Musings

It was a number of years ago that the US FCC (Federal Communications Commission) considerably relaxed the rules of radio station ownership. These changes resulted in large corporations buying up a ton of the Mom and Pop stations in our area. They held onto them for several years, using the stations to simulcast broadcasts from larger cities and then after discovering that the audience felt alienated by this approach which in turn caused them to lose money, the stations were then sold off to the highest bidder.

The highest bidders on these stations turned out to be religious-based companies in many circumstances. Driving from Albany to Utica today I scanned the dial and hit three religious stations between 99.1 and 102.1. There were others, many of which were duplicates/simulcasts of the three different stations I heard in that span. I think in all I stumbled upon seven stations broadcasting religious programming within a 75 mile radius of any given point along my journey.

That’s a whole lot of preachin’.

I find the concept of a religious radio station to be odd (and it certainly helps boost iPod sales). Growing up in rural Upstate New York being a God fearing Christian was assumed. You went to church on a regular basis (even if that regular basis was twice a year), you put money in the offering plate and you learned the Lord’s Prayer (even if it involved singing the Top 40 version in your head to recite it properly). In my family, religion wasn’t something that we talked about. At all. Ever. Once in a while I’d pose a question to my mother and she’d answer it in her best “mom-ism” (i.e. “God can hear all telephone calls at the same time”) but other than that religious discussions were kept at a minimum.

I guess there was an unspoken code in my upbringing that stated that to be preachy of your religious beliefs was tacky. Your religious beliefs were a personal connection between you and your chosen deity. They should be quietly and privately celebrated. The loudest you should get is with a hearty “Amen” at the end of the supper prayer. To inflict those beliefs on another was rude. I don’t think this approach was a bad thing.

I recognise that everyone has their own (or lack thereof) religious beliefs. I don’t care what people believe. If you feel your just reward is earned by worshipping a bottle of ketchup then get crazy with the ketchup, I’m certainly not going to stop you. However, don’t infringe on my territory by telling me that I have to worship a bottle of ketchup. You’ve got your way, I’ve got mine. It’s a bit of a leap for me to admit this but while I have my own spiritual beliefs (which would be considered to be part of “the fringe”), I don’t subscribe to the whole organised religion thing. I believe to pigeon-hole “God” into a “He” that gets cranky from time to time and sends his children to eternal damnation is utter rubbish. To me the idea of throwing more money into the collection plate during one hour out of 168 (and then be mean as hell the other 167 hours in a week) just so you get in the express lane to “heaven” is crazy. Organised religion makes it too complicated; I believe the message is simply “live a good life, do good things, show respect, share your love”.

But that doesn’t really make people money, does it? Fear is what makes those in power money. “You can’t eat meat on Friday. You can’t masturbate. You can’t love someone of the same sex. If you do any of these things, you’re going to hell.” I remember asking my mother what hell was. She looked around nervously (because we didn’t talk about these things) and then cautioned out this answer. “I believe this is hell. If we survive this, we get into heaven.”

In many ways, I think Mom had it right.

Anyway, so when I stumble upon the evergrowing number of religious stations on the radio, my first thought is “how rude!”. That thought is quickly followed up with a “they must not believe what they’re saying if they have to say it so much.” Then I hear “Blah blah blah Hallelujah!” It doesn’t even sound as friendly as Charlie Brown’s teacher voice.

A number of years ago I hired a man that was quite religious. I knew it going into the employment contract; he mentioned his church a LOT on his resume. However, his qualifications were unparalleled and his religious beliefs were none of my business. Until he told me, on his second day of work, that I would be burning in hell because of my relationship with Earl. That’s when I smiled and sweetly said, “You can read your Bible all you want. You can believe your Bible with every ounce of being. You can go to church every waking moment and you can give your entire salary as an offering for the fast track to your heaven.

“Just don’t beat me over the head with your Bible.” He never said another word on the subject.

So I have an appointment with our family physician tomorrow. He’s not really family in the FOD sense but he is your typical piece of hunk family physician. I haven’t seen him in a while so I thought I’d schedule an appointment and stir up some conversation. I like to call him “Dr. Lance”, what with Lance being his name and all. He’s scruffy. Maybe I should call him Dr. Scruff. I doubt he would answer.

Actually I’m going to him for a specific reason other than lively conversation about cholesterol, lipids, heart disease and whatnot. I have a rash on my forehead. This rash has come and gone for the past two months or so. I had a similar rash a couple of years ago. He gave me some meds, I paid, I wiped and and voila the rash was gone. Before our trip to Ireland it came back so I socked it with various lotions and potions. It’s made occasional appearances since. It’s a little itchy and more importantly, it’s on my face where all can see so I need to get it taken care of. It’s most likely dry skin that’s beyond the help of anything I can buy in a drug store hence the visit to the doctor.

On the bright side it hasn’t spread and it’s not contagious so it can’t be anything too serious. I’m betting on the dry skin run amok theory. Hopefully I’ll be pretty again by the weekend.

I am sitting in our local Panera enjoying a late lunch and some surfing. This is the perfect time to come to the otherwise “alternate reality” Panera as it’s between typical meal times and rather empty. I’m able to sit in a strategically placed corner and watch people, one of my favorite pastimes.

A rather handsome gentleman just came up to me and asked if my name is Ron. In the right circumstances, it could have been. It’s funny but I’ve never considered whether I look like a Ron or not. My mother wanted to name me Christopher John but my father thought it sounds too gay. He wanted to name me Wesley Walter. I’m glad they compromised on the easier to remember J.P. after famous foul-mouthed comedian Jaye P. Morgan.

The weekend has been a whirl of activity aside from sleeping at odd hours. Last night we went to Albany for their semi-monthly bear night. It was “Gear Bear” and I wore gear that would make a bear and hundreds of Village people fans proud while simultaneously making my family blush. We opted to not spend the night and got home around 3:15 this morning. We would have been home sooner but we stopped for a quick nap at the desolate “Pattersonville Service Area”.

Last night I met a few people that I’ve only chatted with online in the past, including fellow roadgeek Mike. The usual suspects were out as well, including the D-List bears from Albany. We’re rounding up a bunch of people for bear night on March 1. We tried to get Eric to tag along with us last night but he was busy being a homebody.

As I type my way through this blog entry I’ve just had a group of senior citizens plop down at the next table wear they are discussing the futures of this “new electronic mail”. They are apparently going to their country club afterwards because they’re all discussing the upcoming vote regarding women wearing slacks at club functions.

Our latest adventure at the house has been a leaky toilet. I just completed my third run to Lowe’s to fix it. I told Earl the next time we are looking for a place to live we are not buying a home that has trap doors installed in the ceiling under the second floor plumbing. We should have seen the signs before. When we are done with this toilet project we will have fixed all three toilets, the washing machine connection, three out of five sinks and the dishwasher connection since buying the house in December 2003. So much for good plumbing, considering the house is only 10 years old.