Geo’s Media Blog (Fun Free Stuff Experiment)

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Hey, a bunch of folks all over the US and Canada read my Blog so I’m gonna figure out how to use the power of that to get us some free stuff.
The first place I want to try this experiment is here in West Palm Beach because it will be easy for me to smooth out the bugs that always show up because somebody didn’t get the memo.

It will be a small beginning until I’m sure the system works. Hey, we wouldn’t wanna screw up your free new car, would we? 🙂
After that, if all goes well, I’ll start expanding it from city to city, and as I do, the free stuff will get bigger and bigger.

So. here’s how our wee beginning works. If you live in West Palm Beach, starting Monday, September 11, for the next thirty days, whenever you go into BJ’s Brewhouse, simply say to your server, “Hey, Geo said that the first round was on him.”
If you’re with a date or a buddy, change that to. “Hey, Geo said that our first round was on him.” But you already knew that didn’t ya!

That’s it, no fuss, no muss, no big deal but it could become one.
Oh, and go ahead and tell your friends how this all works and while you’re at it, tell ’em to read my Blog. Geo

Radio Geo’s Media Blog (under construction)

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Athletes usually retire when they’ve lost a step or two, hey, but not our crafty old politicians, who not only have lost a step or five but can barely hobble their way to the payout window as they suck us dry, fulfilling all the lobbyist wishes. 

When you live in a part of the country that’s beautiful and has nice weather, you have to pay for it. Case in point: no earthquakes, forest fires, hurricanes, tornados, mudslides, droughts, etc., in Winnipeg.

Don’t you wanna rip the throat out of the people who answer your questions with, “Well, that depends?”

Even though I hated the word no for most of my life, I rather like it now because it means I don’t have to do anything.

Being a Democrat or Republican neither makes you right or wrong nor good or bad because what you think is just an opinion.

With 1.5 million registered charities in America, how can there be people living on the streets or any poverty and why does our government think that allowing boys who think they’re girls to compete in female sports is more important work?

I would love to see a televised debate between a person from the extreme left and one from the far right;  even though they’re both insane, I think it would be such fun. Hey, we could have a Centrist as the moderator whose job it would be to blow one of those air horns every time either side tried to turn opinion into fact.

The best way out is always straight ahead.

Don’t wait for anything because time waits for no one.  

Is there anything more boring than being in a meeting where everyone agrees? Hell, I was already gone at the first, yes.

Wouldn’t you like to hear in a movie when a person is asked if they’re okay, just once they answer no?

If you ever wonder if you’re crazy, you ain’t. Crazy people don’t ask themselves silly questions like that.

How far back can you go to seek out injustice? I’m thinking the Romans treated my ancestors badly; do I need to see the Pope about a handout?

When people don’t answer your questions, it’s probably a good reason to keep on asking them.

I remember when folks were proud to be white; I still am.  

Wouldn’t life be wonderful if we elected everybody at the same time? We’d get at least two years off of their constant pestering.

Why do the people who hurt the most hurt other folks the most?

So answer me, this grasshopper, how is it that a wife can fly across America to visit an old friend, but a Husband can’t? It, along with many others, is one of the reasons women don’t receive equal pay. Oh, a couple of the others are when we get off the Titanic together and when you get to do equal time for equal crime.

How did white men, if so bad, manage to create and invent almost everything on the planet?

If you’re not a little bit frightened about what’s ahead of you, you obviously set your bar too low.

Wouldn’t life be wonderful if we elected everybody at the same time? Hey, we’d get at least two years off from their constant pestering.

The operative word here in South Florida when you need some work done is”Manana.”

I’m pretty sure I know what the left is for, but  I have no idea what they’re against.

The road to the future goes through places you’ve never been before. Do up your seat belt.

To have what you’ve never had, you must do things you’ve never done. before

Most things aren’t as beautiful close up as they are from afar.

I’m kinda good with cops banging on thugs who bang on innocent people.

What most people never understood was what Ronnie’s trickle-down theory was. It was designed to get the wealthy to trickle down money to the rich. Unfortunately, the bucks stopped there.

Hey, are we almost done with the pandering to black folks yet?  Can we say anything bad about them yet without ruining our careers?

Why would you ever take advice from a person who thinks that owning 40 to 50 pairs of shoes is normal?

Speaking of women, when they get divorced, it’s disastrous because everything is split fifty-fifty, but they’re used to controlling 73% of the income. Meanwhile, the husband is partying with some young tart because he just got a raise.

Why do singers talk so much? Everybody can talk; it’s the singin’ part we pay to see. 


Humphreys Kwena: Thanks for the great job you are doing for Geo’s Media; keep it up. Managing a business is like climbing up a slippery mountain with bare feet.
Geo: No, thank you for the read, H, and you’re exactly right. managing business is not for the faint of heart.

Wendy Holmes: Geez, George, I know you have an enquiring mind, but really, do you have a need to know what percentage of female athletes are gay??
What purpose would the numbers serve for you? Do you think that lesbians might be better at sports just because they are not straight? Are you thinking that gay women are actually more physically stronger than their straight sisters? WTF? Who really cares? Sometimes, you need to dispose of your thinking cap and say to yourself; it is what it is. I still love you, though!
Geo: Wendy, first of all, how dare you try to pretend that you know what I’m thinking. The only thing you got right is I am curious because, on the male side, there are very few gay athletes. Love ya too, babe!

Radio Geo’s Media Blog is a politically incorrect inside look at Radio, TV, Music, Movies, Books, Social Media, Politics, and Religion, but mostly Life, primarily written with men in mind.
For a peek at upcoming Blogs or to see some you may have missed, go to On Twitter @GeoOfTheRadio. Sharing and commenting is appreciated.
If you’d like to subscribe, email your address to

Radio Geo’s Media Blog (Piss Poor and Pissed Off) Under Construction

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The reason I’m piss poor is because of cars so I guess better said, I’ve been car-poor my whole life. In fact, every time I got a raise, I got a new car, but it all ends now.
No more paying for parking, no DUIs, no rising insurance costs, no license fees, no gas or oil, new tires, or all the maintenance bullshit.

My addiction to cars began when I sat on my Dad’s lap so I could reach the steering wheel.
Then, when I was around seventeen, I’d saved up enough money pumping gas to buy a 1948 Pontiac straight eight rag top. (See above)

Man, was I excited as I drove out of the used car lot, but unfortunately, I only got about three blocks before the car conked out.
And, of course, all the car dealer said to me was, “Hey kid, you bought it as is,” so my dad had to come and tow me home.

Even though we rebuilt the engine (I handed my dad the tools), there was no saving it, so I moved on.

Now, I’m in a band called The Phantoms, which later became The Jury, and because I needed some room to schlep band stuff, I bought a big old 4-door Oldsmobile. (See above)
Oh, and it was in this very car that Randy Bachman, later of the Guess Who and BTO fame, said to me when he filled in one night for our lead guitar player, “Hey, “George, if you’re up for a change, I’d love to play with you guys; you’re a fun band.”

Hey Randy, if you need a rhythm guitar player, I’m standing by to stand by, and I’m still a fun guy.:-)When we finally got a trailer to haul all our equipment (The amps kept getting bigger and bigger), I bought a light-yellow colored Ford Galaxie Sunliner convertible. (See above.)A couple of years later, I bought a very fun car; it was a snow-white Cyclone GT ragtop with a red leather interior, a chrome tach on the floor, and red racing stripes down each side.
I had no idea it was a muscle car; I didn’t even know what a muscle car was, but that puppy could boogie! (See above)I loved my GT, but my mentor, Jimmy Darin, drove a T-Bird, so I had to have one of those. I think maybe It was like the kids who buy shoes their favorite superstar wears, thinking they will make them perform better. (See above)

When I made the big time in Toronto, my deal included my choice of cars, so I picked out a loaded grey and black Pontiac Grand Prix with a dynamite stereo system that changed my career. (See it above)
I  created a new format on CFTR in Toronto, which I knew would sound better on FM, but the CRTC wouldn’t allow it, so I took it to the States.

When I arrived in Indianapolis as Fairbanks Broadcasting’s National Program Director, I got back in the car game big time. During my first weekend in Indy, I bought a wine-colored Cadillac Eldorado.
Hey, and as my boss Jim Hilliard said, “George, not only do you deserve it, the Feds are gonna help you pay for it. (Unlike Canada, the IRS allowed you to deduct the interest from your car loan.) Obviously, I had become Americanized rather quickly. (See the Eldo above)

Unfortunately, the Caddy ended up in my wife Lana’s hands, and I was back in my beat-up old T-Bird, but that’s a story for another time.

Fortunately, one of the Buzzard Boys got religion (He probably got caught dating an underage chick that he met on the hit line).
Anyway, I talked him into selling me his silver ’69 350-350 Corvette for a reasonable number because, as I said to him, “Billy, I don’t think driving a Corvette is very Jesus-like.” (See the Vette above)I gave the T-Bird to my dad and then traded in the wine-colored Eldo for a new chocolate brown one.
I loved my silver Vette, but it was starting to act up, so I got a newer white one. (See above)

A couple of months later, while driving to work, I spotted a year-old 450 SL Mercedes in a car lot in the days when there were no used Benz’s for sale. It was tough to get a new one, and if you did get one, it went up in value as you left the showroom.
I made an immediate U-turn, and an hour later, I arrived at work in a blue on blue on blue, very cool Benz with the top down. (See above)
Man, I loved that car! (Unfortunately, much later in California, when my wife and I split up, she sold it. Now, how the hell did she get to do that when it was in my name?) Meanwhile, back in Indy, we bought our first 4-door Cadillac, which we drove right off the showroom floor.
It was silver grey with matching grey leather, but the part I loved most was the kids had their own door.

With the mid-life crazies bearing down on me, I left a great job after living in Indy for eight years (I’m still hooked on the Indy 500) and headed to California in my Benz to start my own Radio Consulting business.
Once there, I bought an old house in Coranado and transformed it into a Spanish Villa,

Time to bring the family to California and do the Route 66 trek in style, we bought a brand-new Jaguar sedan. (see above)
Damn, that car was comfortable, but I later learned that you should never own a Jaguar longer than its warranty.

Okay, things are going really well, and my new company is banging.
It was time to step it up, so
I bought the ultimate car, a Rolls Royce Cornish Convertible. It was silver sand in color with chocolate leather inside. (See on top in front of my Villa.)
My favorite Roller moment was when I was stopped at a red light when a guy in a fire-red Ferrari pulled up beside me, and before blasting away when the light changed, he gave me a thumbs up. Very cool.

Next, after doing a big radio promotion with a local car dealer, he was so happy he spiffed me with a Pontiac Firebird.
Around the same time, my Daughter Candis’s sixteenth birthday was coming up, so I got her a white on white-on-white Volkswagen Cabriolet. (See the Cabriolet above and the Firebird below.)

Can you picture this? A Pontiac Fire Bird, a 450 SL Mercedes, a Jaguar Sedan, a Rolls Royce Cornish, and a Volkswagen Cabriolet are all parked in front of my Villa. No wonder my dad thought I’d gone crazy.
Someone once asked, “Hey, Man, how do you decide what to drive every day?”  “That’s easy I responded” “the one with gas!”

Things weren’t going well on the home front, so my wife and I finally split up, and I moved to a place on the water in Mission Beach.
Around that same time, my brother Reg and I, with finance guy Bill Yde, formed a company called Fairwest and started buying radio stations.

I had already replaced my blue Benze with a Salman-colored one (pictured above), but somehow, a shiny new black one also appeared in my garage. (Pictured below)

Then, because our partner Bill filed a tax form one day late, the IRS notified me that I owed them two hundred thousand dollars, and they wanted it now.
It was time to downsize, so I sold the villa in Coronado, bought my wife a condo in Solana Beach, got rid of all the fancy cars, and bought a couple of low-key 3-series BMWs.(See one of them below.)

Then, I moved to an apartment in La Jolla, where I got a call from Jim Hilliard asking if I could pick him up at the airport and take him to a meeting.
When he got in the silver BMW sedan, he said, “Wow, Johns, this is the first time I’ve seen you in something that you can’t make the top go down.”That afternoon, when I picked him up from his meeting, I was driving a bright red Beemer rag top with tan leather, and he said, “Now we’re talkin’ buddy.” (See the tail end of it and the silver sedan peeking out of the garage in Solana Beach.”

You would think that the IRS hounding me was trouble enough, but after buying a few radio stations and trying to merge with another radio group that would make everything much, much bigger, instead, it all started to come undone.
I stored the Red BMW at my wife’s place, got her a new one, gave her old one to my son, and moved to Boston.

Jim Hilliard had talked me into coming to Beantown to help him with a radio project.
He’d gotten me a super apartment in the Back Bay, and because I was now into racing, it was fun training on the Charles.

Wouldn’t you know it, the guy who gave me the Firebird back in San Diego is running a BMW dealership in Boston, so he makes me a hell of a deal on a brand new 6-series convertible?
Unfortunately, I hardly ever drove it because it was easier to take the T, and because leasing a parking spot in Boston was like buying a house, I turned the Beemer back in. (Pictured above)

The project in Boston went longer than expected, and because I still did some consulting work in Florida, I fell in love with a beautiful Psychologist. I know, what was I thinking?
I took the little General’s advice and moved down to West Palm Beach, where I leased a Black Toyota convertible with black leather.(See the love of my life, RIP, and a little of the Toyota right above),

After the lease ran out on the Toyota, I bought a Forest green C E-series Mercedes convertible with saddle leather and filled in my other parking spot with a wine-colored Ford Explorer (The Benz is right above, and the SUV a couple of pictures down)After almost driving the Benz into the ground, I traded it for a Nissan Z, which I I did because my new love was into Fast cars, Crown Royal straight from the bottle, Classic Rock Up Loud and a Lot of NaughtyTalk. (See them both right above.)
After she was gone, I decided to downsize again and got rid of both the Ford SUV and the Z car and got myself a gas-efficient Volkswagen EOS.

The EOS was wonderful; I could put the top down with the radio up and let the breeze blow through my hair as I blew by hundreds of gas stations.( EOS Shown below)

Then, for some unknown reason, the electronics got all fucked up, so I could no longer put the top down or get into the trunk.
So the other day, while driving home from the store, I got a flat tire, but as I said, I had no way of getting into the trunk to get at the jack and the spare tire..
However, this rather dismal experience has turned a pleasant one because, for the past few weeks, I’ve been riding around with Lyft and Uber and lovin’ it.
In fact, I love having a driver so much I’m getting out of the car game.

Although I must admit that I’m kind pissed at Lyft at the moment.
My GP and Cardiologist both work out of a medical center, and whenever I have an appointment with either of them, they send Lyft for me.

A couple of weeks ago I had an appointment with my GP who requires me to bring all my medications with me.
I was riding with my Lyft driver, Ivan in a Lexus and when we arrived at the Medical Center, like a fool I forgot my bag of medications in Ivan’s Lexus. (I wanna make this ass-hole famous and his Lyft ID is Ivan in a Lexus)

When I discovered that I had left my medications behind, Iven was long gone.
However, the receptionist told me not to worry because they’d get a hold of Lyft and by the time, I finished my appointment they’d probably heave my medications back.

Unfortunately, when I finished up about a half hour later, the girls out front said they were unable to get a response from Lyft.
When I got home, I finally figured out how to contact Lyft by email and they gave me Ivan’s phone number.

I spent the next three days calling and texting Ivan the terrible to no avail.
When I told Lyft that I couldn’t get a response from Ivan and asked what I should do now, they said, “I’m sorry, but you’re past our 72-hour limit for things of this nature; we can no longer help you. What!

On the other hand, a few days later, while riding with Uber, my car keys unknowingly slipped out of my pocket. (I thought the legs were supposed to go first)
The following morning, the front desk called and said, “Mr. Johns, your Uber Driver from last night just dropped off your keys.”

Wow, I didn’t even know they were missing, but unlike Lyft, I was able to get ahold of Uber, so I managed to leave a much better tip and was able to get in touch with my driver to thank him.

Unfortunately, I don’t remember my good Samaritan’s name, but I sure remember Ivan in the Lexus. Hey, Iven, if you’re if you’re an illegal, start packing, Buddy ’cause I’m hunting you down.
Oh, and Lyft, Fuck You Too!

Radio Geo’s Media Blog is a politically incorrect inside look at Radio, TV, Music, Movies, Books, Social Media, Politics, and Religion, but mostly about Life, primarily written with men in mind.
For a peek at upcoming Blogs or to see some you may have missed, go to On Twitter @GeoOfTheRadio. Sharing and commenting is appreciated.
If you’d like to subscribe, email your address to

Radio Geo’s Media Blog (“Can I Buy You a Drink?”) New 9/04/23

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Those who have read my stuff know that I used to frequent Duffy’s Sports Grill in West Palm Beach almost every night.
And it was at this Duffy’s that I met a fascinating guy named Buzz
Braman about ten years ago. Damn, it feels like 10 minutes.

Buzz (Shown on top back in the day with Shaq), who is part of the Braman car empire here in South Palm Beach, used to be the assistant coach of the Philadelphia 76ers and then the Orlando Magic, where he coached Superstars like Shaq and Penny Hardaway.

His job was to improve the players’ shooting skills; the weird part was he was better than all of them.
He is known as the “Shot Doc” and once threw a record-shattering 738 free throws in a row, plus 246 out of 250 3-pointers and made 1121 out of 1144 free throw attempts in one hour, not mention beating Larry Bird in a three-point shoot out.  See trophy above

Even now, Buzz is talking to the NBA about a new shooting technique he’s created that he claims will revolutionize basketball, which he said took a nice right turn last night.
Unfortunately, as he told a good friend of his in Orlando recently, he’s a little nervous because of his severe back problems, so he hasn’t been able to shoot a basketball in about eight months.
His buddy said, “Hell, Buzz, it’s like riding a basketball.” 🙂

Anyway, back at Duffy’s, where I seldom go now because, as the saying goes, “Familiarity breeds contempt.”
I guess I must have overstayed my welcome, so when the service went south, I switched to BJ’s and brought a few of my friends with me.

Okay, enough of my whining; let’s get back to the story, enough of these sidebars.
Anyway, one night. there’s Buzz and I at Duffy’s having one or three adult beverages at the bar, talking about all the guitar links we’ve exchanged over the years. (Buzz and I are both big Blues guitar fans.)

After a while, Buzz, needing another drink, starts looking around for a bartender, but none are around, so he turns to me and says, “You would think with the thousands of dollars we spend in this joint, that they’d buy us a fucking drink once in a while.

Less than 30 seconds later, from out of nowhere, the GM comes over and says, “Can I buy you guys a drink?”
Buzz and I fell off our stools.


I wonder what percentage of female athletes are gay?

It takes a lot of courage to speak out and a lot to not.

The future don’t look anything like the past.

What President ever halted inflation?

Were there ever any signs that read, “No whites allowed?”

When I got into radio, I thought everything was too fucking long, so I spent most of my career shortening everything.

My biggest failure in life was trying to make the people I love happy.

Speaking of failure, NOT! I’ll never forget the day we were all gathered in Jim Hilliard’s office in Indy because the new rating book for Indianapolis had just arrived. We’d just come off our best ever, which was a 17 share, and were quite anxious to see if we maintained it. We laa lean forward as Jim turns to page 54 and says, “Damn it, Johns, I was sure you had a twenty; you only got a 19.3.

The best part about getting into a Hall of Fame was the amount of money you made while getting there. Trump kinda reminds me of a used car salesman because, like all salesfolks, he lies for a living.

Who took down the “Looters will be shot” signs?

A noble person is one who can give and forget but receive and remember.

Is there anything more boring than being in a meeting where everyone agrees? Hell, I was already gone after the first “yes.”

Wouldn’t you just once like to hear someone say no when asked in a movie if they’re okay?

If you ever wonder if you’re crazy, you ain’t. Crazy people don’t ask themselves silly questions like that.

When people don’t answer your questions, it’s a good reason to keep on asking them.

Has anybody in DC ever read a book?

Wow, Jimmy Buffet gone at 76.



Wendy Homes: The most important thing about playing Poker is to remain calm and retain your Poker face. Years ago, when we had our cottage on Lake of the Woods we usually played Canasta in the evening with two other couples. One evening our adult children convinced us to play Texas Holdum, which I had never played before. Well, I was one of the last remaining two, and I laid down three of a kind! The whole table erupted and one of kids asked me if I was sure that I’d never played before; what a gas!! I’m really good at Blackjack, too but never tried it in Las Vegas.
Geo: Wendy, I don’t usually like to play games of any kind.
However, when I was taking my Grandson Nathaniel college shopping on the train, at some point, he got bored and asked if I’d play poker with him.
He’d previously heard the “Deal Me In” story, and because I adored him, I reluctantly agreed to play.
So, there we were in the dome car, using M&Ms and Skittles as chips, and he was kicking my ass. Finally, he says, “Buppa, I always know what you’re holding because if you’ve got a good hand, you do this, and if you’ve got a bad hand, you do that.”
I won the next hand and most of the rest, and he couldn’t believe it and when he asked what just happened, I said, “You forgot the part in the “Deal Me In” story where Jim Hilliard says, “If George Johns ever sits in, cash me out.” He knew that if I ever sat in, I knew the rules. Hey, grasshopper, you taught me the rules!

Bill Gardner: You think it’s fun visiting Las Vegas, you ought to live here as we do! It’s Disneyland for grown-ups.
Had to laugh when you describe my former WFIL Philadelphia Program Director Jim Hilliard in the air as a “white knuckler.” Take it from a now airline captain, Jim has every right to! He’s the ONLY guy I know that survived an airline crash! I believe it was a DC9 aboard Hughes AirWest. (Deal Me In)
Geo: Bill, what was so weird about all that, Bill, was, he was sneaking up to Winnipeg to interview for the CKY position and when Pat O’Day saw the list of survivors, he was only one of the few who knew Jim’s real name and was pissed. As Pat told me later, when they sent Jim to KNEW in Spokane Pat asked him how much money he wanted so the company wouldn’t have to worry about him looking for work. Jim told him, the company paid it and a few weeks, Pat, was reading about Jim flying to Winnipeg for obviously a job interview.

Radio Geo’s Media Blog is a politically incorrect inside look at Radio, TV, Music, Movies, Books, Social Media, Politics, and Religion, but mostly about Life, primarily written with men in mind.
For a peek at upcoming Blogs or to see some you may have missed, go to On Twitter @GeoOfTheRadio. Sharing and commenting is appreciated.
If you’d like to subscribe, email your address to

Radio Geo’s Media Blog (Deal Me In.) 8/28/23

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I just realized that it was sixty years ago when I met the man who changed my life.
He showed me a future so bright I needed to wear shades. I think I was around two years old. 🙂
(See the sixty-year-old photos above.)

His name was Jimmy Darin, and he was the Program Director and afternoon drive dee-jay at CKY in Winnipeg, where I was a part-time board op.
Who would have thunk what now feels like just a short few years later, I would be his National Programming Director when he was CEO at Fairbanks Broadcasting based in Indianapolis?

By this time, he was going by his real name, which was Jim Hilliard, and things were going so well that Jim would take my counterpart, Dick Yancey, and me on a 3-day junket to Vegas every year.
The way it worked was we figured out how to make an illegal connection in Chicago because the Las Vegas gate was right next to our arrival gate.
And the best part was the Vegas flight departed fifteen minutes after our arrival. Sweet!

On one of our yearly trips, sitting in our usual seats up front, having a Bloody Mary, suddenly the pilot’s voice comes over the intercom saying, “Hey folks, you’re in for a real treat today; not only are you going see the Grand Canyon you’re gonna see it from the inside because we’re going down into it.”

Wow, there we are, looking up at the sides of the Grand Canyon in a 747, one of the most giant planes ever built. Unbelievable.
However, what  I remember most about our Grand Canyon adventure, was Hilliard, a white knuckler saying to me, “George, tell that fucking pilot to get this fucking plane up and outta here.”

About an hour or so later, we checked into Caesars, where Jim put a bunch of money into their bank before we headed to the tables. 
Even though I’m not a gambler (More on that later), I love Vegas, and I just love to watch. Yeah, that too.

What I like to watch the most is the pit boss strolling over to us and saying to Jim, “Mr. H, you and your guests’ accommodations have been comped.”
Now Jim, not being a shy guy, would always manage to say, “How about the airfare?”

After watching Jim and Yance gamble for a while, it was time for me to waander around and check out all the cool new stuff in the menswear and sports shops.
The thing about the clothes in Vegas is you never see them anywhere else, which is very cool if you’re trying to be cool.

Every hour or so, I’d wander back to wherever Jim and Yance were playing, and Jim would hand me a bunch of black chips and say, “No matter how hard I beg, never give these back to me.”
Near the end of the day, we’d usually see a lounge show where one of our favorites was Louis Prima and Keely Smith.

However, during one of our Vegas excursions, we learned that Fats Domino was playing in the big room, and we just had to see that.
Luckily, because Jim was known as Mr. H, we were able to score a couple of tickets.

Now, being from Canada, I had no idea other than radio how things worked in America, but I was about to learn.
Once inside the big room, the usher disappointedly led us up to the back of the theater.

As he showed us to our seats, Jim introduced himself, and as he shook his hand, Jim asked if it was possible to get us a little closer, and the usher said he’d check.
The next thing I knew, we were being led down to our new seats, which were so close that I was almost sitting on the piano stool with Fats.

When I asked Jim why the hell the usher thought we wanted to sit way in the back instead of upfront like this, he said, “I think the $100 bill I slipped to him while I was shaking his kinda communicated where we’d like to sit.”

When our 3-day adventure was over, I would give Jim back all the black chips I held for him.
Now, depending on how many chips I gave him, decided whether we’d have a pleasant flight home or not..

Oh, yeah, what about me and gambling? Jim loved to play poker, so every week, he’d have a bunch of guys over, and because I didn’t gamble, I’d bartend because I liked hangin’ with the guys.
Throughout the night, the guys tried hard to persuade me every week to sit in, and I’d always refuse, claiming that I was too busy mixing drinks for them.

Then, one morning, after one of those late-night poker sessions, when Jim and I were driving to work together, he said, “Johns, you know why you do gamble, right?”
I looked at him quizzically and said, “Yeah, it’s because it doesn’t look like much fun to me. “No, that’s not it,” he said. it’s because you don’t know the rules.

Know this, though, squirrel: whenever the day comes that you decide to sit in, cash me out! 


One should always become childlike but never childish.

There are three types: those who make it happen, those who watch it happen, and those who say, “What the hell happened?”

Speaking of what the hell happened, I remember when the whole world wanted to live in America.

One of the things I like about California more than Florida is California’s baby Hurricanes.

You choose your future when you choose what you believe and who you hang out with.

I know this is a silly question I know, but I gotta ask: Why is it so easy to buy things but not so easy to cancel them?

The Winnipeg Blue Bombers are a couple of games out front of the pack in the western division of the CFL, and I think If the lads get up on their tippy toes, they probably can see the playoffs and the Grey Cup. Go, Big Blue! 

After he retired, Ron Chapman of KVIL in Dallas told me that even though he’s been inducted into three different Radio Halls of Fame, the thing he was most proud of was being asked by Paul Harvey to fill in for him when he was ill. Ron did it perfectly for a whole year.

Speaking of Paul Harvey, here’s the real thing. Check out why he had twenty-two million radio listeners. …., 


Jed Duval: How did you keep the limo perk a secret from Gary Todd or Chuck Riley?
Both would have wanted it or some other perk like it.
I had never heard about it until just now. As Jim Hilliard would always tell me after meetings: “Remember, loose lips sink ships!” (C-Mo or L-Mo)
Geo: Jed, I never communicated much about what was happening at the other stations. When I was in one of our markets, I only wanted to deal with what was best for them. I didn’t want our stations competing with each other; they had enough competition in their own market to keep them busy.
Gary only talked to Jim in Indy, so he would have to hear from him. As for Riley, he didn’t give a shit.

Peter Mclane: Is radio now only a car commute medium? (C-Mo)
Geo: No, Peter, I believe that radio is still big in the office.

Radio Geo’s Media Blog is a politically incorrect inside look at Radio, TV, Music, Movies, Books, Social Media, Politics, and Religion, but mostly about Life, primarily written with men in mind.
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