The Occasionally Worthwhile Ramblings of a Sometimes Outraged Mind

I’m a former radio disc jockey, living and raising a family and creating (whatever the hell) near Denver, Colorado USA. Known at various points in my former career by on-air pseudonyms such as Matt Clayton, Clay Matthews and even “The Healer” (a nickname inflicted upon me by another jock), I got out of radio a few years ago to become a freelance writer and novelist… which explains my career as a professional driver. I was also the Libertarian candidate for Colorado House of Representatives, from (what was then) District 36, in 2000.

I’m 46, and therefore ripe for a classic mid-life crisis. The trouble there is, after a few bumps in the road, I love my life, so why invent a crisis? Never mind that owning a red Corvette is a “been there, done that” for me. Being the father of an 18-year-old son and 13-year-old daughter in residence who get along with each other about as well as a cobra and a mongoose, both of whom think I’m an ATM? Now there’s the crisis in my life, if any. I’m also the lucky father of a beautiful 24-year-old daughter who lives several states away. Nevertheless, I have embarked on an endeavor which still could be interpreted as a mid-life-acting-out of sorts: I’m picking up playing drums again, many years after I first flirted with them (and of course, failed to score).

My life’s major influences, apart from my wife/reason-for-living and parents and progeny and other loved ones, are: Robert A. Heinlein, Spider Robinson, Jim Ladd, Raechel Donahue, Neil Peart and his band Rush, John Bonham and his band Led Zeppelin, and The Beatles. Oh, and let’s not forget Dave Barry, who had nothing to do with my radio career but through his former syndicated column kept me laughing through many tortuous Sunday mornings of board-operating mind-numbing, pre-produced Sunday morning radio programming, some of which I was actually guilty of producing. I was also guilty of reading Dave in (hack, cough) The Fresno Bee.

Feel free to Google any of the above names to learn more; I guarantee that you’ll find them all entertaining (excluding The Fresno Bee).

Also worthy of mention is Dave “Captain David T. Kirk” Johnson, source of the Ringo-singing-into-the-ass-end-of-his-mic story and the guy who, perhaps inadvertantly, gave me more knowledge about radio than I had ever gained before and possibly more than he was willing to part with.

Meanwhile, applications for new influences are currently being accepted.

Lest anyone become confused by the mixture of proper names and nicknames in this blog: all persons referred to who are not public figures and have not expressed a desire otherwise are assigned a nickname. Certain kids who might get a kick out of seeing their actual names here are so named, so long as their parents’ names are obscured with a nickname. Also, since my name is public, my kids and relatives get nicknames until and unless they decide to “out” themselves.

A source of confusion for some has been Lester, my very beautiful, very female wife. “Lester” is my pet name for her, and therefore that’s her — I repeat, her! — nickname here (since we became acquainted with Dave Barry, she also enjoys/endures the moniker “Mrs. WriterDude”). Like the bumper sticker says: I’m straight, but not narrow.

Lastly, I am the poster child for procrastination, and I challenge any and all who dare to refute that claim. But not right now.