Back in the mid-Seventies I was assigned to shoot a documentary film about a "Day In The Life Of A Meat Inspector." It didn't occur to me, nor was I informed that the interior of a packing plant is kept at below-refrigerator temperatures. This was the middle of summer, so I showed up in a shirt and jeans with my lights and camera ready to go. I have never seen more uncomfortable people in a working situation--I was freezing but they were scared. They thought I was doing an expose' or something. I was accompanied by management wherever I went, a cleaning crew was one shot ahead of us and there were only pre-designated locations in the plant where I was allowed to shoot or even see. So when I heard that ABC's PrimeTime Live reporters posing as Food Lion job applicants got hired and secretly filmed the rotten vegetables, rat-infested cheese and spoiled chicken in a Food Lion store I was impressed. The jury wasn't and awarded Food Line a five million dollar settlement based on the fraudulent way the reporters obtained access to the dirty truth. Food Lion apparently did not deny that it was selling rotten vegetables, rat-infested cheese and spoiled chicken. It just WILL NOT STAND for untruths on its employment applications!

The National Western Stock Show comes to Denver each year and it's a big deal. Cow-ropin' buck-ridin' kind of stuff. Can I get a "Yeee-HAH!" out there? I heard a discussion on local talk radio about castrating sheep, or "nuttin'" as it's called in the ranching trade.

(Rancher's wife: "Where ya been?" Rancher: "Nuttin' honey!")

Another caller recalled how the rather personal process was a requirement for completion of a high school class where he grew up. In a "get to know each other" session at a new job a friend of mine answered the question, "What's the most disgusting thing you've ever done in your life," with, "Castrating a goat with my teeth." At the time I thought he was going for effect. After listening to a half hour of ranchers calling in with technique tips, I believe that in 1997, sheep are still being castrated by humans biting them. (I have to assume that they then spit.) The radio host--me along with him, wondered why, if we've been to the moon and are approaching the year 2000, has there not been a tool invented that would accomplish this task. The call-in expert pointed out that it's a very delicate process, performed on a very young animal, and any attempt to use a pocket knife usually produces way too much bleeding. Teeth are best (there's a "feel factor").

It gets better:

to disinfect and seal the wound the preferred method is to splash a little diesel fuel on it. I think I have to go lie down now.

I love those bumper stickers that say, "My Kid Can Beat Up Your Honor Student." A new survey of "Who's Who Among American High School Students," suggests that those honor students may not be as honorable as their parents think. Only nine percent of those proud moms and pops with high achieving kids think their offspring have considered suicide, for example. Actually twenty-six percent of the survey's respondents have thought of doing a Junior Kevorkian on themselves. But I guess I did too at that age--that big zit before the prom; bad hair day; gym class; Algebra finals, hair where you don't really need it, you know, the big stuff. Three-quarters of these little darlings admit to cheating while only 62% of their parents thought they would ever consider it. (Even 62% is alarming. . .) As for sex, almost twenty percent of the Who's Who admitted to already having lost their innocence while a scant nine percent of the parents believed their children were experienced. (Not that there has ever been a real clear line of communication between pubescent youth and their parents, at least in the real world.) But if I would have known that one-in-five of the juniors and seniors fit for "Who's Who. . ." had "done it," perhaps I would have tried to hang around with the kids in the advanced class more often. Dang!

The web is so wonderful, it might help you find money and then figure out what to do with it. The U. S. Government has 1.15 million in unclaimed pension money lying around and somebody clever suggested the web be used to locate the folks to whom it belongs. If you've been waiting years for that first pension check, perhaps you should check out the site. So far, retirees in 41 states have received benefits ranging from six dollars to sixty-six thousand through the site since it's December launch. And when you finally get your due and you're thanking your lucky stars, use the stars to guide your investments! If your personal portfolio is in excess of half a million, (and really, whose isn't?) you can get the inside info from The Astrologer's Fund. That is if you believe in this stuff. "Financial Astrologer" Henry Weingarten creates a company's horoscope using its date of incorporation then predicts its future performance. Uh. . . yeah. He's even written a book about it: "Investing By The Stars." Nancy Reagan reportedly consulted an astrologer to plan Ronnie's plane trips, and Hillary Clinton has regular conversations with Elenore Roosevelt so why not roll the dice on the advice of a stargazer? Oh yeah: he says watch out for March 11th. . .

The Colonel is dead. The Dutch immigrant, (of questionable U.S. citizenship status I might add), the carnival promoter who was making his living painting sparrows yellow and selling them as canaries, who found Elvis Presley and painted him the King of Rock and Roll--is gone. I worked on a show for Colonel Parker the year after Elvis' death. The show was produced by Jerry Weintraub out of Beverly Hills. ("My job is to put asses on seats!" he'd yell from time to time.) It was a 28- slide projector, 5-film projector, 5-screen multi-media (note hyphen) extravaganza with a concert sound system. We debuted in Las Vegas at the Hilton where Elvis had been booked before his untimely demise to open the new Pavilion in which our tribute played in his stead. After that, the ninety-minute show toured the south to packed houses. At the Las Vegas Hilton Colonel Parker was selling a poem he had written about Elvis in his grief after The King's death for a dollar. I bought one. I share with you now, the thoughts of Colonel Parker from 1978.

Written For All the Fans Worldwide

By The Colonel

The songs he sang at home each day
Pleased his Parents in every way.
This humble home, with love to spare,
The three together went everywhere.

Then came this man, his name was Sam,
He recorded a song for Elvis' Mom.
That's when everything began.

It was blue suede shoes and blue moon too,
Along with midnight and moody blue.
It was Elvis here and Elvis there,
And teddy bears were everywhere.
It was don't be cruel and such a night
And he sang Mamma that's alright.
He was all shook up and G I blues
And girls, girls, girls and potluck too.
And the we knew what he was all about.

The boy became a man and he carried on
To make us happy with his songs.
We will play your songs from day to day,
For you really never went away.