Reality Radio

Seems a shame that love is embarrassing, doesn't it? Need to torment a third grade boy? Nothing works better than, "Johnny's got a girlfriend! Johnny's got a girlfriend!"

Public displays of affection are common when romance is fresh and lust runs rampant. When things cool, as they will, couples behave in an appropriate fashion.

Running for office? Talk tough! Oh, love's okay. Love for flag. Love for country. Don't look weak, though.

Fashion comes, fashion goes. Sometimes fashion returns. My mom was obsessed with love. She was complicated and she was sensitive. Frequently too sensitive. Nobody left her side, though, without being told that she loved them. It was never some act that she had constructed. She loved.

She got it, of course, from my grandmother, Lottie. Except for the devil, himself, and the Von Brauners and their manager, "Gentleman" Saul Weingroff, Grandma loved everybody, too. She was good at it. Perfect in my eyes.

Now I see on cable news and in the New York Times that Christianity is under attack. Or Islam. Homosexuals, Mexicans.

It's love, pal. 

If I embarrass you by telling you that I love you, I'm sorry. If I make you uncomfortable with my babble, I apologize. I'm already unfashionable. Always have been.

Presidential politics is not as important as love. Neither is the stock market, the FBI, reality TV. When I'm gone I'm afraid that I'll be remembered as failing at romance. That's okay. You don't have to tell 'em that I was good at love but I would appreciate it if you would say that I worked hard at it.

It's All About You

Maybe we all spend too much time fretting that we're looking at issues from our own selfish perspective. Of course we do. It's the only one we've got. The reality is that we're all one. We share a singular consciousness. If you can be still enough for long enough, truth will tap you on the shoulder, whisper in your ear.

Unfortunately there have always been folks around who are willing, no- anxious, to "interpret" truth for you. Sometimes it's for the good. Jesus wasn't trying to convert you to Christianity. He was a Jew. Buddha had most of the same ideas in mind. Six centuries earlier, I should mention. Can you imagine how those guys might have caught on if Col. Parker or Brian Epstein had been there to help!

More often, unfortunately, it's folks up to no good who feel called to explain "truth" to us. They're likely to go into politics. Or religion.

You don't have to fiddle with the dial to tune in truth. Hit the scan button and be still. It sounds like love. It tastes like banana pudding.

Hearts Beat, Hearts Hurt

My heart is too heavy for levity right now. Love will always win but we lose so very much to hate in the process.

Transistor Sister

Maybe all the high times and all the love and all the luck gush from the same well. Once you've ever answered the question, "What do you do?," you can't put the genie back in the bottle. Not that genie. Not that bottle.

I don't do anything. I mean I do stuff but the answer that you're after is that I am Ronny Elliott. I'm not all that good at it but I'm the best there is. There won't be any new, improved model. I'm the end of the line.

Forever Yours

War is outdated. Has been for generations. So is the internal combustion engine. Mix gasoline and air, provide a spark that makes a tiny explosion which turns a flywheel, blah, blah, blah. Rube Goldberg was better tested by the thermos.

Now the elite may have slipped up here. They finally began to demand the crumbs. 

The revolution's on. Let's see if Elon Musk, Elizabeth Warren and all those kids in middle school have enough time to save the planet. The music and the art included.

Only Ones Left

Yeah, I buy green bananas. Mind your own business. I'm listening to my heart and it don't say nothing. On a good day I wake up with hope. Those other days bring the songs. I'm not like the others. Never have been. I'm almost used to it.

What's That Smells Like Love?

Blam! I've worried about the rumble and bumble in my head since I was a toddler. These days I'm mostly anxious about anxiety. Thanks, Julie, Hallie, Maria. Muchas gracias, Alison. As long as my leading lady remains oblivious to my antics I'm good at this stuff. Once again, it's like my piano skills. In my head I'm good at it. 

Roll over, Liberace, tell Van Cliburn the news. Watch your back, Romeo, Ronny's here.