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The Grammy Awards have never- okay, maybe "rarely" is the proper word- been relevant. The winners showed off the crassest of pop trends, with the truly interesting, challenging, and influential stuff relegated to the sidelines, waiting for recognition in some other venue. The Grammys weren't for the Ramones, they were for Christopher Cross. And maybe that's why I've never, ever cared about the awards.

This year's no different. The opener with the ought-have-stayed-apart Police was supposed to rope those of us who were of age when they had their hits into watching, but I don't care. Mary J. Blige's appeal escapes me- she doesn't have a particularly interesting style or voice and the songs are uniformly forgettable, so what's the point? The Dixie Chicks were never that great, but now they're selling a concept over music (and how did they beat "Crazy," which wasn't even nominated for Song of the Year, ot that nightmarish James Blunt thing, which was the song other than "Crazy" that defined the pop year?). The Red Hot Chili Peppers were past their due date years ago, John Mayer is winning awards for lamely ripping off "People Get Ready." It's bad out there, folks.

This year's music was crap. Either you've heard it before or it wasn't very good on its own. When I noticed Gnarls Barkley won for Best Alternative Album (a record that didn't strike me as alternative to anything), I had to look up the other Alternative nominees: the extremely overrated Arctic Monkeys, the extremely unlistenable Flaming Lips and Thom Yorke solo, and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, who are, er, extremely overrated, too. Man, does current music suck right now.

But then again, the Grammy voters have their taste in their anuses, anyway. The Chicks denounced country fans, put out a lite-rock/pop album, and win Best Country Album. Jimmy Carter- Jimmy Carter!- wins Best Spoken Word Album (beating Bob Newhart!).

And "My Humps" won a Grammy. Worst song EVER, and it won a Grammy. That horrid pants-pissing wannabe Fergie singing about her lumps won a Grammy.

Rock F'ing Bottom.

No wonder I stick to talk radio.

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I'm on a mailing list about my college reunion. No, I'm not planning to go, of course. Frankly, I'm not even remembering most of the folks whose names are popping up- that's not intended as an insult to them, it's just that it's been 25 years (!) and I just don't remember that much anymore. But I do remember the topic that seems to have become a major discussion point with the folks who are conversing on the mailing list:

Genny Cream.

Genny Cream was the Official Beer of Pennsylvania College Students in the 70s and 80s. I don't know why. Genny Cream- Genesee Cream Ale- was everywhere. And it was weird, because it wasn't even a local brew- it was from Rochester. The Pennsylvania locals were Schmidt's, which tasted like piss water and came for 25 cents a glass at the local tavern where you'd get great burgers on hard rolls in the back and bowel-cleansing Schmidt's up at the bar, and Yuengling's, which at the time was the cheapest, most horrid-tasting swill you could buy but later became repackaged and resold to yuppies at a "premium price." Rolling Rock was around, but it sucked, too- thin, a little sour, ugh. Nobody drank Ortlieb's, which explains why it went away.

But Genny Cream was the default. Nobody complained about Genny Cream. And it wasn't horrible- it leaned a little too much towards the Molson tang, which I never liked, but it was drinkable. I don't remember it being much of a cult item, though.

Still exists, too.

I'm not really into beer nostalgia, because the stuff wasn't THAT good. Newcastle Brown still works for me. Even Shiner or Red Hook ESB'll do. But now that they brought it up, I gotta go down to my local beer place and see if they carry Genny Cream. Not that I want to taste anything that tastes like college. Nasty.

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Ran out of time tonight, so it's back to the scans for one of my prized possessions:

Okay, so they were mediocre that year- 83-71, 4th place. But you still had Whitey in center and Roberts and Simmons starting and Konstanty closing. I don't want to wreck the book by peeling it open too much, but here's Whitey's page:

The book is a wonderful relic of 1953- all the business-side people and press guys look like, well, 1953- starched shirts and ties and uncomfortable expressions. There's overheated praise, too, suggesting, for example, that Jim Konstanty will require at least a whole chapter of future baseball histories. And then there's the back cover:

It's got UHF! So you can watch all of Philadelphia's UHF channels in 1953! Like... er... well, there weren't any. Channel 35, WUHY, didn't show up until 1957, and most of the programming ended up on channel 12 eventually, anyway. There were UHFs in Reading and Atlantic City, but they didn't last long. But this Philco could get any theoretical UHFs that could sneak into the Delaware Valley, so you were set. (Philco was the original owner of channel 3, WPTZ, so they initially didn't have a vested interest in bringing you more channels, but by '53 they'd sold WPTZ to Westinghouse) The radio was AM only- FM existed but widespread success on FM was a few decades away.

I have a Philadelphia A's yearbook from that same year someplace, I think- gotta go look for it. If I find it, I'll throw that one up here, too.

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You get a card. A nice, funny card that fits your collective personality will do, but if you can create your own, you do it.

Add a small gift- the size and price are less important than the significance.

Candy. A box of See's Candy works. Bordeaux, Scotchmallow, peanut clusters, peanut nougat- perfect.

Have a nice dinner. It doesn't have to be at the most fancy place. Steak is good. Throw in some crab cakes to start and a Newcastle Brown to wash it down.

And then you come home and do whatever comes to mind. Playing World of Warcraft should not come to mind at this point.

Oh, and one more thing: you tell each other what you mean to each other. But you should be doing that every day of the year.

That's how we do it. Hope your Valentine's Day was good, too.

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All the headlines today said "Comic Franken To Run For Senate" or "Funny Man Franken Sets Senate Run" or something like that.

Since when is Al Franken funny?

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This week's All Access "The Letter" newsletter addresses a purely behind-the-scenes radio topic. Non-radio people may safely skip this one:

Confession of a Rogue Former Program Director: I never liked doing aircheck sessions.

Next week: I hit the road for a speaking engagement and get very, very cold. Expect some weather-related whining.

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Today's excuse: no sleep. That's literal. We spent all night someplace we didn't want to be, out of necessity (no, not prison or the police station), and by the time I got home it was already an hour and a half into work time. I tried to nap but the sewage line is backed up and I had to get up, call the plumber, and now I'm waiting for him to show up.

There's nothing like staying up all night to witness weirdness, and the emergency room is a prime place for that. There was the smoke-and-gin-soaked wreck of an old woman who left a trail of Eau de Marlboro was she staggered back and forth. There were the several massive people having breathing problems- no surprise. There was the doctor who showed up on his day off for treatment- he'd gotten rip-roaring drunk, precitpitated a bar fight, and someone tried to run him over in the parking lot- and came in loud and feeling no pain, cherfully spouting every obscenity in the book (including the long one) and keeping his fellow docs in stitches while they tried to figure out what to stitch up first and how to replace his teeth. When you're severely sleep-deprived, everything's Fellini-esque enough without something like that.

But we're OK, thanks, and now I'm dragging. Maybe the plumber will show up soon. Being able to use the bathroom would be nice.

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Fran was in the local twice-weekly newspaper, in the lead story- a feature on the new docent class for the non-profit that runs a local seaside museum and holds nature hikes and tours. They're a big deal here, and so is she. The article includes some quotes from her and briefly tells about her triumph over health adversity to graduate. It's pretty cool, and when I saw it in the honor box outside the post office, I had to call and read it to her on the phone.

That's because it isn't yet on the paper's web site. Yes, that's annoying.

But when it IS on the web, I'll post a link. And if you're in the Palos Verdes Peninsula area, pick up Saturday's PV News and read about my hero.

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