Ohhhh!  Sitting here with a bit of a bug.  Not the worst bug ever.  I can’t quite tell if’s a “I hit the wall kind of bug” or, a “why did I shake hands with that guy right after he sneezed and blew his nose on his sleeve kind of bug.”  Either way, this kind of thing hits me right near the winter solstice.  It’s got me coughing like a cannon and freezing one minute and itchy the next.  It’s been my experience that I’ve survived each and every one of these bouts.   Lying around doesn’t help and, working doesn’t hurt that bad.  Dogs don’t catch it but, wives do.  So, I’m spending my time with Millie our hound.  My wife Sandy will soon enact the ten foot rule.  That means I can’t come within ten feet of her.  Working in the  33 degree dairy locker will be such fun tonight.    It’s a little rough to be in the cold  however, the cold air will clean out my nostrils.  I also think the cold air helps kill the germs too providing it don’t kill me first.

     Back when I drank, this was a good excuse to swig down a bottle of Christian Brothers Brandy and pull the covers over my head.   I’m a tea tottler now and, not very big on booze but, do you know what really works on the cough I’ve got?   Your cough reflexes will surrender and abandon your throat like rats from a sinking ship if you use Elixer of Terpinhydrate  with codeine.  My mom used to call it GI Gin.  I think it used to be issued to service men for bronchitis.  The stuff works so good and, you used to be able to sign for it and get it over the drugstores.  But, no more.   It’s a shame you can’t get it anymore.  It worked so good.  I guess that’s a case of reverse progress.
     Sometimes when I get this cough, the wooziness goes away but, I find myself stuck with a three week bout of coughing fits that can only be compared to the Mormon Tabernacle choir getting tear gassed.   It’s just the loudest most skin crawling cough you ever heard.  It doesn’t hurt that much but, it’s so loud and barrel chested.  I have scared deer out of cover with it.   Windows rattle in the house and I have set off smoke alarms and seismographs.   I’m supposed to see the Nutcracker Suite Ballet this Sunday.  I’m scared they’re going to throw me out on my ear.
     to make it easy on myself, I’m going to knock out a one hour show for VRadio Nashville.  Sandy would probably prefer that I lock myself in the studio behind closed doors anyway.  I think I’ll feature one hour of Christmas oldies.
     Also, if you can, please share my info on the station fundraiser with your email and facebook friends.  Does anyone know Malcom Forbes?


Hi friends.  I noticed that it one of my facebook friends was having a birthday.  It turns out that he was one of the founding members of   Danny and the Juniors.   I sent him this story and thought I’d share it with you.

     Hi Frank Happy birthday. I see you work with Danny and the Juniors. Just played some of your songs the other day on my web station. Once, long ago I had the honor of introducing you guys at a concert near Sparta NJ. I’m not very good on stage. I get kind of flustered. When it came time to introduce your set. I ran out, hollered and yelled and thought I wasn’t doing too bad. I remembered I hollered” Here they are Danny and the Juniors,” and I ran into the wings feeling pretty good about myself. Your band started to play your intro, You all came running out hi fiving me as you passed. I ran into the wings clapping when it hit me that I had the lead singers microphone in my hands. I looked out onto the stage and the poor guys looking for his mike as the band goes right past the part where he’s supposed to start singing. I was pretty red in the face when I had to walk out on stage and hand the darn thing over. Please tell him I’m sorry for the mix up. Eat some cake today.  
     Since then, I’ve always laid low if Danny and the Juniors were in the house. 
     The fund drive for my station is going pretty good.  I need you to spread the word.  People just have to use the link to go to the donation page and do what then can to help.  Here’s the link.  Click here to support My Web Station Needs Help To Help by Doc South     Anything they can do will be greatly appreciated.  I’ll be using the funds to help the station survive and to make it more helpful to the smaller local charities.  Maybe a kind of Lone Ranger of the web


I’m sitting on break at the Chatterbox tonight and, watching a nine year old little girl keeping watch over her little brother.  He’s about three and is wandering all over the dining floor.  She’s in hot pursuit.  He climbs onto my dee jay platform stomping around and, snatching record covers.  She, catches him from behind and drags him away.  She put’s back the records as he runs over to the statue of the giant hot dog and makes like he’s Sir Edmund Hillary on Mt. Everest.  He’s repelled  almost up to Mr. Hot dog’s mustard hand when she swoops in and get’s him back to solid ground..  She’s a regular Sherpa guide.   Oops he spots the toys for local needy children under the central Christmas tree.  The Incredible Flash has nothing n this guy.  Wonder sister is right on his tail.   Got him.

      She’s gotten pretty tired and hauls the little guy back to the folks.  He’s sitting in his booster seat while she sits next to dad in the booth, all whooped.   Dad looks to be a real nice guy and puts his hand on her shoulder as she cuddles up to him.   People don’t usually dance in the Chatterbox.  They’re too busy eating.  Well, the food isn’t there yet and, the five Satins are singing In the Still of the Night so, dad invites his little girl to dance with him.  It was a pretty sight to behold.  She stood on his toes as he did the steps for the two of them.  The food came.  The dancing turned to munching.  It’s a good night at the Chatterbox.


There’s nothing better than a good dead done on a whim and on the sly.  There’s also nothing better than a good deed done with great care and well thought out foresight.   Let’s face it,  good deeds are just the best thing ever.  I seen and done a few in my day and felt like talking about a few in this episode of the Pop Pop Show.  Enjoy and be inspired.



Do you remember the Hokey Pokey?  It’s an nice old song from the 40’s I think.  Basically it leads you in a mystical and fun dance called oddly enough the Hokey Pokey.  Each of the many refrains instructs you to put various parts of your body into a circle of friends then out and then in again as you shake it all about.  Then you dance the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself around.  They then say that’s what it’s all about.  As I get older and reflect more on my life, I’m beginning to think the composer of that great song might just be right.  The Hokey Pokey might just be what it’s all about.  Why didn’t I think of this sooner?

   Life can be thought of as kind of like going to a big sock hop with a series of dances you have to learn and perform.  Early childhood, school, teenage, marriage, parenthood, cooking, driving, and more come your way and have to be mastered.  Say you approach, the early childhood part of your life, you learn it in pieces, just like putting your right foot in and out of the hokey pokey circle.  When you finally get it sort of mastered you do the hokey pokey of childhood and turn yourself around and that’s what childhood was all about.  Next, you approach teenage, and you stick your left foot in and then out learning till you can do the hokey pokey of teenagery and move on to the next step.  It’s crazy but there’s all these hokey pokey refrains in  life.   It’s almost as if some heavenly DJ is playing each chorus for us.  We dance to them and move ourselves, learning and dancing as much as we can, till the party’s over.  We sort of dance the Hokey Pokey to teach our souls what it’s all about.   Our best steps are love, faith, concern for others, kindness.  You get the idea.
   I can almost see that, as we leave heaven for or life on earth, we pass this big sign at the top of the stairs that reads.  Hokey Party This Way.  Watch Your Steps.


This time Bob and I sort of talked about what to be thankful for in the world of finance.  We were going to do this show before Thanksgiving.  We had scheduling problems and, well, here it is almost Christmas and, we finally got around to doing the show.  Listen to this one and your cup will overflow with many a thank you galore.   This show came out very well.  Thank heaven.



Many a night I’ll pass Millie our Hound on my way to bed.   She’ll be snoring away in what used to be my easy chair.  Dead to the world, she’ll be wrapped around a stuffed flat dog doll.  I’ll pat her on her head and say goodnight and head off to my room.  Once in the sack, I scrunch down into my pillow, pull a cover or two up to my shoulder and pull on my sleeping ski mask.  Now that I don’t have all that much hair I need it to keep my head warm.  All that done, I’m ready for a good nights sleep.   Some night’s, I’ll even turn on one of my old shows.  (They’re great for inducing  sleep.) In the words of the immortal Elmer Fudd, “It’s west and wewaxation at wast.”

     But, then, all of a sudden I hear a stirring in the other room.  The sound of a hairy fur covered body slithering over the leather chair cushion, followed by the fwlump of a body landing on the floor.  Then, there’s this weird unexplainable sound of shaking flesh, fur and dog tags as Millie does a three second shake down.  After that, it’s clicking of dog claws on the floor heading my way.  The bedroom door gets nosed open and, soon, I have a dog tongue slurping on my hand.  There’s a bit of a whimper in the dark and, I have to get up to help her get into bed or hear whimpering till the dawns early light.
     To get a Basset Hound into a bed, you have to get them near the edge of the bed and lift their front paws onto the mattress.   Then you have to reach down and grab the rear legs and lift them up as the hound walks onto the bed with her front legs.  This all takes extreme coordination between man and beast.  There’s no room for error.
     Once on the mattress, Millie scrunches her nose and paws into the blankets.  She see’s no need for the way I had the blankets arranged.  The whole bed needs a total makeover.  While she’s redoing things, I sneak into my usual spot about one and a half feet from the mattress edge.  I have to work fast or the covers that used to cover my shoulders will only come up to my knees  Eventually, we compromise and I wind up with enough covers to reach my armpits.
     Millie goes into that circle dance dogs do before they lie down.  But, instead of plopping down in the middle of a cozy pile of blankets, she plops down right on my stomach.  Her paws stretch around the far side of my belly.  Her chin is on my belly button.  I can tell you for a fact that Millie doesn’t miss too many meals.  She weighs a ton.  She let’s out one sigh and is in a deep R.E.M. sleep in nanoseconds.  I can tell it’s R.E.M. sleep because she’s snoring like a bull moose mating call.  I eventually fall asleep.   
     But, wait there’s more.  This is where the weird thing happens.  It’s not so bad to have a fifty five pound dog unconscious on your chest.  I kind of like the whole scene.  But, somewhere in the night, I’ll wake up freezing from head to toe with a sore back and one of my legs dangling off the bed.  Millie will be sound asleep on her back with her head on my pillow snoring.  The covers are up to her shoulders.  Somehow, in the dark of the night, the tables get turned.  She must do this glacier style.  Slow constant pressure in all the right places.  I can almost read her thoughts.  “Not a sound now.  Just keep slowly pushing and move him out of the way.  Just another inch or two and……there.   Quick get under the covers.  Grab his pillow.  Perfect.  God, I wish he’s quit snoring.  Ahhh!  West and Wewaxation at wast.


I’m finding out more about Uncle Pen.  Turns out he actually lived.  He was one of the originators of mountain fiddling.  I’m pretty sure he was Bill Monroes uncle or guardian for a couple of years.  Bill Monroe says they were dirt poor.  Hot Cakes, Sorghum, and Fat Back for breakfast.  Hard work for the day.  Black eyed peas, sorghum, and Fat Back for supper.  Sounds like they were pretty lucky to get an apple for lunch.  Uncle Pen would sit on the porch at night and play his fiddle mountain style.  Bill Monroe said that poor as they were, those days were some of the happiest  of his life.  I can’t find if Uncle Pen actually had a ledge where he serenaded the village below at dusk.  Maybe the cabin was up high and overlooked the valley below.  Uncle Pen was thrown by a mule and became crutch bound but, that didn’t affect his fiddling.  You can find pictures of him if you get a chance to do so.  Looks to me that he would have been a hoot to know.  Bless his good heart.   I saw a video of Bill Monroe playing Uncle Pen on stage.  At one point in the song he just plays his mandolin and clog dances by himself.  I’ll bet he danced every time he brought that song to life.


I just finished a show for VRadio Nashville.  It’s a large internet radio station.  I guess one of the biggest.  They’ve been nice enough to have me send a weekly one hour show for them to feature somewhere in their rotation schedule.  Tonight I was playing country oldies.

      By chance, I played a song by Bill Monroe called Uncle Pen.  That’s a great song.  It’s about an old timer who every day at sundown climbs to a ledge overlooking a village in the valley below.  Once on the ledge, Uncle Pen takes out his fiddle and bow and, starts serenading the town.   Most everyone in town sits on their porch or, takes a break in doing their chores and listens for a bit.   It’s like he’s giving the sun and the town a lullaby.   When the sun goes down, he packs up and goes home.  What a great idea.  Heaven would have something like this each night.
     So many towns have some kind of overlook point.  Wouldn’t it be great to invite good musicians to come by now and then and sing the town to sleep.  Maybe the artists could leave a small tip jar at the base of the hill.  Maybe they could just play to say they did it.
     Naturally, I think dee jay’s should be allowed to participate too.   My hand is raised