A dark studio turned into the perfect moment to reset what evenings—and radio—can feel like. After meeting a new doctor and getting candid about slightly elevated triglycerides, we walk through a simple shift that changes everything: finish dinner earlier, let your stomach rest at night, and watch sleep and energy improve. It’s not about a crash diet or guilt; it’s about building a plate with spinach, tomatoes, avocado, olive oil, and letting consistency do the quiet work. If late nights are your norm, there’s still a way forward: create a few hours of space before bed, keep it light, and reach for plain air-popped popcorn only if you must.

From there, we lean into a bigger theme that’s reshaping radio: nostalgia as connection. Gen Z and Millennials aren’t just streaming 80s hits; they’re asking for human voices, imperfect reads, and shows that feel like company instead of content. We talk about warming up production, taking more calls, showing up locally, and keeping a consistent, human tone across the podcast, the airwaves, and social. That’s the real “retro”—a friend at the mic, not a filter on the feed.

We also touch on awards show fatigue and why heavy-handed politics and overlong speeches push viewers away. The antidote isn’t cynicism; it’s making space for warmth, humor, and real conversation. The show must go on, and it does—with a nod to Leo Sayer and Three Dog Night, a salad that actually satisfies, and a reminder that small, earlier choices can make your body feel younger than your calendar says. If this resonates, follow the show, share it with a friend who eats late, and leave a quick review to help more people find a human voice in a loud world.

Sunlight hits the studio window and suddenly we’re off on a ride through memory, media, and music—starting with a date plucked from a headlines-in-history calendar and landing squarely on one of the 90s’ most unforgettable sports moments. We revisit the Kerrigan–Harding saga, not to re-litigate it, but to explore how live drama becomes cultural folklore: a blown-out knee, a rink-side plea, a lace gone wrong, and the way a televised crisis can outlast the medals themselves.

From there, we drop the classroom lights and spin the reel. If you remember film day—the clack of the projector, the kid who begged to be light monitor—you’ll feel the time machine kick in. We sample a 1959 workplace short that wears its sexism like a name tag, then jump to gritty 1970s booking-room audio where bravado meets authority. Add an anti-marijuana PSA full of stiff slang and parental panic, and you get a compact tour of how institutions once tried to shape behavior, sometimes with charm, often with cringe. The point isn’t to dunk on the past; it’s to see how messaging, myths, and tone leave fingerprints on how we think now.

To close, we cue a pristine RCA pressing and let a rare Yamaha CP30 sparkle through the opening notes of Hall & Oates’ “You Make My Dreams.” The backstory—blues colliding with Texas swing, a short-lived keyboard crafting an iconic riff—reminds us why certain songs never get old. A great record doesn’t just trigger nostalgia; it anchors us in the tactile reality of gear, sessions, and happy accidents that become timeless hooks.

If you love cultural archaeology—sports lore, vintage films, and the kind of pop songs that still lift a room—this one’s for you. Hit play, share it with a friend who hoards old reels or rare vinyl, and tell us: which artifact would you bring back for a rewatch or a spin? Subscribe, rate, and drop your thoughts so we can pull more gems from the shelves next time.

Sun poured through the blinds, but the day felt heavy—we lost our friend and frequent guest, Congressman Doug LaMalfa. To honor his legacy, we rewound to our milestone conversation that shows him at his clearest: a fourth-generation rice farmer who asked for baselines before billion-dollar climate plans, and who insisted that policy be built to work in real towns with real jobs.

We walk through the hard numbers behind EV mandates and freight: battery weight eats payload, which means more trucks on the road and more strain on an already fragile grid. Then we head upriver to the dam removals reshaping the Northwest, where hydropower once delivered steady, CO2-free baseload power. LaMalfa details the silt plumes, stranded wildlife, and downstream consequences that rarely make headlines. We dig into forest management and power-line clearance, backup generators and blackouts, and the uneasy math of telling people to evacuate while warning them not to charge their cars.

Public safety and homelessness bring the debate to the street level. We break apart the blanket labels: people down on luck, those battling addiction or mental illness, and those choosing camps because rules feel restrictive. Help works best when it’s paired with accountability and measured outcomes. On crime, we challenge policies that sideline useful tools and pretend problems are optics. And through it all runs a call to civic responsibility: read the fine print on ballot measures, vote early when you can, and demand results over slogans.

This tribute isn’t soft-focus. It’s spirited, specific, and grounded in work boots and committee rooms. If you care about energy reliability, water storage, forest health, safer neighborhoods, and smarter voting, you’ll find plenty to agree with—and plenty to debate. Subscribe, share with a friend who loves a good policy argument, and tell us: which issue should leaders fix first?

A quiet Friday turned unexpectedly electric: the red light for live radio clicks on, the foothills breathe after days of rain, and a crackling fire sets the stage for a run through memory, music, and sports that somehow all connect. We start with a simple joy—The Flintstones—and land on a timeless truth hiding in a cartoon: ideas often look silly until they fly, and only then do the doubters ask for a title and a seat at the head of the table.

From there, we flip a desk calendar and tumble through New York history. Times Square’s first fireworks, the renaming of Longacre Square, and the birth of the ball drop show how one publisher’s celebration became the world’s countdown. A century-old curveball—1917’s “fake” New Year, shifted by Sunday liquor laws—proves culture can pivot fast when rules change. These snapshots aren’t trivia; they’re evidence that traditions evolve and still hold power.

Courtside at Celtics vs. Kings pulls us into the pulse of a city. We revisit seasons of struggle, the art of asking honest questions after losses, and the grace of athletes who lead with warmth. Wayman Tisdale stands tall here—NBA forward, Grammy-winning jazz bassist, and locker room light—reminding us that talent is richer when it lifts people. Then college football flips the script: Indiana smothers Alabama 38–3, a statement that dynasties aren’t destiny. An offensive lineman’s MVP nod puts proper respect on the work that makes everything else possible.

Music closes the loop. The Turtles push back against a hit-making machine with Eleanor, a witty satire of bubblegum love that sneaks in an early Moog and still hooks your ear. It’s creative defiance you can sing along to—and a neat mirror of the night’s theme: nostalgia balanced by reinvention, comfort carrying change. Come along for the ride, share your favorite throwback or upset, and stay for the live show at 7 p.m. If the stories resonate, follow, rate, and send this to a friend who loves hoops, history, or a great song with a wink.

Sunlight in the foothills, a rare record on the desk, and a voice that still echoes through our studio—this one brings together sport, memory, and music in a way that feels both tender and alive. I’m off the air until January 5, but the stories didn’t take a vacation, and neither did the community that keeps this show beating.

We start with the shockwaves rolling through the NFC West: the Rams slipping from top-seed contention, the 49ers lighting up the scoreboard despite turnovers, and Bears fans daring to feel proud again. Football is more than standings; it’s a mirror for resilience, timing, and how quickly fortunes can turn. From there, we lean into something more personal—the life and legacy of Mark “The Voice Guy,” a friend who turned our commercial breaks into moments listeners waited for. His liners were quick, clever, and oddly comforting: a tiny lift after a long day. When cancer closed in, the studio became his escape. I drove him in, dropped the Mustang top, and we cranked music because joy is a medicine you take with both hands.

Community came through at American River Flooring, where we rallied for Mark and for Kendall, our longtime technical producer who faced leukemia and fought her way back. The fundraiser was messy, loud, and beautiful—exactly how real help looks. Mark turned even the hiccups into jokes, the way radio pros do, and reminded us that humor and heart can share the same mic. To honor that spirit, I dug into my rare 45s and landed on the Isley Brothers’ Spill the Wine, a cover that proves a great song can be reborn without losing its soul. The Isleys’ run of fearless covers—Ohio, Fire and Rain, Lay Lady Lay, Love the One You’re With—felt like the perfect soundtrack for memory and momentum.

If you’ve ever needed a voice to get you through a tough night or a song to make the room feel warmer, you’ll feel right at home here. Join me for football sparks, a friend remembered, and a groove that still turns the page. If you enjoyed this, subscribe, share it with a friend, and leave a review—then tell me your favorite cover song and why it still moves you.