<I listen to FM while jogging so I don't have to pre-record anything.
(Plus I can listen to NPR news if I want.) I need several presets so
I can jump stations when a commercial comes on.
I bought a Panasonic RF-SW50 (which features two sets of five presets
and an arm band), but the sensitivity and selectivity are surprisingly
poor. I've been told that this is due to inadequate antenna design.
Can someone recommend a sports radio that has much better FM
performance characteristics?>
NPR?
No doubt about it ~
Tune on in, way far out, just hear ~
www.wnyc.org
Try late night New Sounds, 11 pm
EST.
The Best de la Best to ~
Ballast me, off center
I now go ~ Sailing off to Ballicatter ~ An ice
Ridge formed along the shoreline by waves
And freezing spray.
Just gone seeking
My
Ghost~est’s with
The
Most~est!
Just my Sacred Host,
Of which I often Boast,
Sailing my boat across the Sea of Thyme,
My cargo, my crew neck sweater, my ancient
Rhyme. Eternal Herri[ti]ck
(ca. 1591–1674) ~
“O Years! and Age! Farewell
Behold I go,
Where I do know
Infinity to dwell.â€
Socrates, you know,
Began the trend. So go blame him!
O know ~ Yes m’am, the suicidal acceptance,
An honorable choice, confers a high post-graduate degree,
A choice existential option.
~ Dr. Lettersnow, Su.D., M.F.A., 2
Socrates did, too. He also knew,
But saved himself, not!
Socrates knew his options’ lottery, a roulette ~
Fortune’s Lady ~ wheel spun, maintaining
Painstaking poker-face
Solemnity, before padding over to see Ms.
Liza Minelli’s late-night Vegas cabaret show
Over at The Bellagio.
Of Plato and Aristotle, yes, now, back
To those dolts. They worried not,
Knowing well, in good hands
They were held, their teacher, Mr. Socrates.
So, all’s swell, thought they. Last words,
Socrates said to them, his pupils ~
“Can you rise above even Descartes,
Newton, and Einstein? Much later, too,
How about Husserl, Levis, and Camus?â€
Aristotle and Plato, klewless, drew a blank, stared
Haplessly back at one another, lost.
Levis? 504s? Or Vintage Aged?
Their woolen chitons, then, still, all the rage.
Levis? Not! Yes, both knew the future not.
“What’s not,†said Plato.
To which, Aristotle replied,
“Who’s hotter?â€
Socrates sighed,
Resigned himself, took a mental note,
Thought better, later, designed to see, also,
After Ms. Liza, Mr.
Sammy Davis, Jr., too. So final words,
He uttered, “Suicide, yes, an honorable choice,
You think? A last resort [Not unlike Las Vegas],
A secured reservation,
A solo flight, a desert oasis, booked alone.
A misdirection, knowledgably opted for,
A sure sign, all’s awry, gone way far
Too wrong, too.
A Song de Misery, performed in the round
At the 4:30 am show. No preview. No
Audience. All gone. Just the bare bones. & Mr.
Socrates, draped in his wooly chiton,
No,
Not wrong ~
Just Dunkin, my Boston’s Crème de la crème,
Paired with cappuccino
Foam, to glaze my shell. Too soft I am,
My soul, dontcha know?
O know! Now
Need Donut, too, don’t you know?
Herb, Sock, stay, please don’t go ~
My buds, my lost, my founds. Here,
Have another demitasse. Employ your talents
Ghostly, now express us something hotter.
Something not.
~ Snip, slip ~
Yes, my outer shell needs
Chiron, in Greek mythology,
The Centaur, known for great wisdom,
Who was the tutor of Greek heroes
Such as Hercules, Achilles,
And Jason.
~ Ringy, ding ~
Chiton ~ a small primitive marine
Mollusk who lives on rocks
And who has an elongated body protected
By a shell consisting of eight overlapping plates.
[Class:Polyplacophora] Or
A loose knee-length woolen tunic
Worn in ancient Greece.
Chiral ~ a molecule whose atom
Arrangement cannot be superimposed
On its mirror image.
Poets, their words,
Logos, trust their art.
But beware. Their words, as Plato warned,
Do not always match their life.
Many a poet’s gone way far mad,
But their words ring true.
Art’s art; life’s life.
Sometimes, they are, often not.
A mirror instructs, but alas, so it reverses.
If you trust the mirror’s right
Is real right, fast road kill you’ll become.
Grazed over, a running car over you.
Deny evil, fight,
Rather than only watch.
Action take. Words, too, read, make, too.
But compliment, buttress, word’s wisdom.
Make a fuss!
For the weak cannot always fight,
Nor even the strong, for themselves,
Their battles ~ So take metaphorical arms,
Fight the battles
For the impaired. For as Ms.
Diane Sawyer so wisely says,
“There, but for the Grace of God,
Go I.â€
When all’s one, all’s safe,
Help the weak grow strong. But do not instruct
The weak in the midst of their being beaten,
For that’s surely allowing evil
To carry out its ends.
“The only thing I really like
To shrink
Is ignorance.â€
~ Dr. Dingaling Ph.D
Knowing firsthand
Evil, pain, destruction, aggression ~
Alleviates ignorance.
But right, they are not.
To bear forth useful truth,
An eaten fruit, a ripened on, too,
A needed wisdom, food for the hungry,
One teaches how to flourish
Without undoing, nourish without
Uprooting, Feed both body and soul.
To plant seeds within but not without destroys
Beyond reason’s
Mean. A lost season. Excess harvest
Rarely survives, instead,
Decays. Yet, feeds another, another day.
But alas, the one who lost ignorance,
Who knew too well, first-hand
Evil, dies.
NPR? You bet!
WNYC. All the news that's fit to hear,
For any ear ~
_______
Blog, or dog? Who knows. But if you see my lost pup, please ping me!
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HREF="http://journals.aol.com/virginiaz/DreamingofLeonardo">http://journal
s.aol.com/virginiaz/DreamingofLeonardo</A>