His car was gone.  They'd left it parked far beyond
the first sign that claimed the area ahead was posted
and anyone caught beyond that particular point would
face arrest.  A quick scan by Xtery showed the
Volkswagen being towed by a military vehicle down a
dirt road a few miles away.  They were towing the
Volkswagen Beetle toward the base.

"Looks as if we walk," said Miles when they discovered
the Beetle was missing.

"Not yet," said Xtery and located a vacant Jeep behind
a building down in the valley and popped it to their
picnic site.

"I'm driving," said Muduud.

"You're still sick," Xtery said.

"I am?  Okay.  You can drive then."

"Thanks," said Xtery.

"They're going to be a little pissed off when they
discover that Volkswagen Beetle can't run," said
Miles.

"And even more when they discover that a Jeep has been
stolen," said Starr.

"I'll return the Jeep later," said Xtery.  "They'll
never miss it."

They barely made it through the lines in time and only
because several hundred soldiers apparently equipped
for a full-fledged war were looking the other
direction as their Jeep drove past along the narrow
dirt road and down the far side of the hill.  Scrub
cedar trees that were more like brush than tree gave
way to a random cactus and then to random tuffs of
brittle dry grass hoping for a rain that seldom came. 
Occasionally, Xtery popped the Jeep ahead a few miles
because the road wasn't all that smooth and more than
their nerves were becoming ruffled.

A while later, they pulled in front of the Little
A'Le'Inn only to discover that the U.S. Army was ahead
of them.  Four Jeeps were parked out front.

But there were no soldiers inside the quaint
restaurant.

"Don't know where they went," the waitress said.  "I
didn't see those Jeeps pull up.  They ought to be
around somewhere."

Xtery glanced at Bdudd.  Had she and Muduud stolen the
Jeeps from the military base?  Perhaps Miles?  His
attention focused on Miles.  Quite obviously the old
alien was more skilled than he admitted.  But why
steal the Jeeps?  That was the kind of prank that a
kid trying out their wings might play, not an adult. 
On the other hand, supposedly a stunt like that was
far beyond their capabilities.  Unless, of course, the
wine had amplified their skills and they managed it
somehow by working in tandem.  At the moment, he
didn't see how it was possible.  Starr was carefully
placing a damp handkerchief over Muduud's forehead. 
She'd just given the two Verdidiuns a small piece of
aspirin with some water.

"I have a hunch they'll show up before too long,"
Xtery said.

"Have to find another Jeep first," Starr pointed out.

They ordered coffee and sat there a while.

"Would you like to see Area 51 from one of our
webcams?" one of the patrons asked.  He was a
chubby-faced older man.  He gestured toward a laptop
computer on his table.

"No, thanks," said Miles.  "I've seen enough of that
place for one day."

The chubby-faced man stared at him with a suspicious
glare.

"Are you from outer space?"

"Not lately," said Miles.

The chubby-faced man made a remark half under his
breath and turned back to his laptop computer.

"I think we'd better go now," Xtery said, keeping his
voice low.  "Some helicopter gun ships are heading
this way."

"Bye bye boredom," said Miles as he stood up and took
a last look around the Little A'Le'Inn.  "Going to be
quite exciting here in a few moments."

Outside, they found their Volkswagen parked beside one
of the Jeeps.

"I could pop all of those Jeeps back to the base, I
suppose," Xtery said.

"Nah!" said Miles as he crawled into the backseat of
the Volkswagen, careful not to accidentally sit on two
very woozy Verdidiuns.  "Let these folks have their
fun.  Give them something to talk about around this
place."

A few miles from the Little A'Le'Inn and almost out of
view, Xtery popped the Volkswagen into Las Vegas.

Bdudd found the city unexciting.

"But this is a fun place," Starr said.

They drove down the Strip, past the battling pirates
who were not fighting this time of day, past the
volcano which wouldn't be erupting until nightfall,
past the imitation Eiffel Tower which looked listless
under a sun that would kill you.

"Las Vegas is not much fun.  Hurts my head to have too
much fun," said Bdudd.

"That's because you drank too much wine," Starr told
Muduud.  "Actually, Las Vegas is a very exciting city.
 I think we could win an awfully lot of money here."

"No," said Xtery.

"Why not?"

"It would not be ethical," he said.

"You stole a bottle of wine and yet you're against
winning a few dollars with just a flick of the mind?"

"I replaced the wine," Xtery pointed out.  "Anyway, we
don't need money."

"I would like to go shopping for a new dress," Starr
said.

"What color?  I can fetch one for you."

"That's not the same thing," she said.  "Shopping is
an adventure.  Exciting.  Fun."

"I can help," said Bdudd.

"Not me," said Muduud, holding a damp handkerchief
across his forehead.  "I think I've already had too
much fun."

Xtery popped the Volkswagen into the parking lot of
the Fashion Square Mall and handed Starr a credit
card.

"How long will this take?"

"I don't know," she said.  "How much can I spend?"

"I don't know.  I've never used a credit card before. 
Well, if you run into trouble, just call me and I'll
hear you.  As for you," he told Bdudd, "I hope you
have sense enough to remain invisible throughout this
endeavor."

"Of course," the Verdidiun said.

"Will you be okay?" Starr asked as she climbed from
the passenger seat.

"Of course," said Miles, trying to copy the same tone
of voice that Bdudd had used.

"No," said Muduud with a groan.

"How come he's still sick?" asked Bdudd.  "I'm not
sick anymore.  I'm ready to have more fun!"

"Two of you having fun is more like a catastrophe,"
Xtery said.

"You mean you made her well?" demanded Muduud.  "I
want to also be well."

"Okay," said Xtery.

The Verdidiun immediately disappeared.

"You've evidently been making a heap of mistakes
lately," said Miles.  "And that was probably one of
them."

"Maybe," said Xtery.  "And maybe it'll take the both
of them to look after Starr."

"And that's where you've got me completely mystified,
young feller.  Am I right in what I heard, that she
was a prisoner a while back?  And now you're letting
her run free?"

"True.  She asked if I intended to hold her captive
forever.  I said I had to think about it.  And after a
lot of thought I still didn't have an answer.  Not a
good answer.  Certainly, no solution.  So, there she
goes."

"Probably just as well," mused Miles.  "After all, who
would believe her?"

"I would."

"You don't count," Miles told Xtery.  "Matter of fact,
I'm not even worried about you.  It's them military
people that bother me somewhat.  Because they're
probably just stirred up enough to come looking for
the whole bunch of us."

"I know.  They have the jacket to my suit."

"Can they track something like that down?"

Xtery thought about merely popping the jacket into the
Indian Ocean.  Then decided that, perhaps, them having
the jacket was the way things were supposed to be.

"Tailor made.  A small shop in El Paso."

"Nyah.  They'll never find you."

"We shall see," said Xtery.  "In any case, they will
see the graffiti if they come to El Paso.  That could
prove interesting.  Very interesting."

"Erase it," suggested Miles.

"All of it?  Anyway, someone will just do more.  It is
an easy thing to do.  Difficult to prevent.  We don't
even know who is doing it."

"Then why did we go out to Area 51 and cause all of
that trouble?  Seems like wasted effort.  And I didn't
notice any graffiti out there."

"Starr wanted to go.  I thought it was best to give
her what she wanted."

"Nyah," said Miles.  "A man has to wear the pants in a
family or he's always going to be in trouble.  Take my
word on it."

"How could you know something like that?  You've been
married before?"

Miles thought a moment.  "Not so far as I can recall. 
But if I were married, I'd wear the pants.  Guarantee
you about that."

"Sure you would," said Xtery, but his tone indicated
that he seriously doubted the statement.

Muduud popped into the passenger seat.  He appeared
winded.

"I thought you were out having fun," said Miles.

"Watching two females shop is not fun," said Muduud. 
"It is more like torture.  Starr is trying on every
dress in the place.  I hope you're very rich."

"Are you rich?" Miles asked.  "That bug-eyed monster
pay you well for a job on this planet?"

"We don't get paid, in reality," said Xtery.  "We fend
for ourselves, depending on the culture or cultures of
the planet and whatever is valued.  On this planet,
gold and diamonds are prized.  Emeralds.  That sort of
thing.  It's easy to scan a few diamonds in some
ancient volcano area of Africa and pop them into your
living room.  I'm as rich as I want to be.  But in my
line of business, it doesn't pay to be too
ostentatious.  You get accused of being a lizard or
something similar."

"That's great.  We get too much static from this
Xtarso Divhuud feller, we can get a little hacienda
down in Mexico somewhere and retire where they love
and respect any lizard that's got money.  The more
money you've got, the more respect."

"That's an interesting possibility," Xtery said. 
"Because you and I may both be staying on earth.  I
scanned all of that equipment back at Area 51.  There
was nothing resembling a flying saucer.  No curved
pieces.  It was alien, all right, but nothing I could
identify."

"That Roswell, New Mexico thingamabob?"

"Difficult to determine," Xtery said.  "It wasn't a
major vehicle of any kind.  Too small.  Perhaps it was
a scout ship.  Did you have such things on your flying
saucer?"

"Nyah.  It was a pretty big ship, but it could land on
any planet I ever saw.  However, you'd need a parking
lot about this size."

"I gather you weren't the pilot," Xtery said.

"Nope.  I actually don't know what I was.  Maybe I was
an observer like you.  Maybe not."  He paused then
after a moment, "You notice how I was talking in the
past tense?"

"Yes, I did," said Xtery.

"Funny about that.  Maybe I ain't what I used to be. 
Maybe I've changed."

"Yes.  Odd, but possible.  We all change."

"Maybe you were the navigator," Muduud pointed out.

"They wouldn't just dump a navigator on a foreign
planet," Miles said.  "Good navigators are hard to
come by.  No, I don't know what job I had, but it
wasn't that of a navigator.  Funny thing is that I
don't feel like I had a real job.  Jack of all trades,
maybe."

"Maybe you should go check on the girls, Muduud," said
Xtery.

He vanished, but was immediately back.

"They're okay.  Starr was trying on an evening dress
to wear on a cruise."

"You guys going on a cruise?" Miles asked.

"I'm as surprised as you are," said Xtery.  "Just hope
I'm invited."

"Why would she go without you?" asked Muduud.  "Bdudd
wouldn't go without me."

"It's not the same thing," said Xtery.  "Just a few
hours ago, she was terribly upset with me.  She even
voiced the idea of killing me."

"I don't think she's upset with you anymore," said
Muduud.  "And I doubt she would kill anyone.  Not the
type."

"Hope you're right," said Xtery.  "But I've come to
the conclusion that I don't understand women."

"How did you get tangled up with this particular
earthling?" asked Miles.  "If I'm not being too
curious."

"I attended a concert at the university.  Mozart was
on the program and I enjoy Mozart.  By the local
symphony.  I met her during intermission.  All my
life, I've been alone.  Suddenly, I was alone no more.
 The very second that I saw her.  I still don't
understand how it happened.  Just one of those things.
 First time I took her hand, it fit in mine.  Just the
right length, you know.  And the first thing I know,
we're married."

"Ain't love wonderful," said Miles.

"I hope it is," said Xtery.

"I was being sarcastic," Miles explained.

"Pardon me.  I will have to make a study of sarcasm at
some point when I have time."

"You still won't understand it," said Miles.  "You
either got it or you don't.  Thus, you either
understand it or it flies right past your head.  But
don't worry about it, young fellow.  Not too many
people around who can toss it very well.  Right,
Muduud?"

"I don't know," said Muduud.  "I don't know what it
is."

"It's when you say one thing, but mean another," Miles
said.

"Bdudd is very good at that," Muduud said.  "She's a
master craftsman at it, being a woman."

"There!  See?  You're catching on quick, Muduud," said
Miles.

"I am?"

"I know how old you really are," Xtery said suddenly
to Miles.

"Huh?"

"You called me young fellow just a moment ago and the
truth is that I'm about a hundred and fifty years
older than you are."

"How?"

"My race lives a fairly extended life," explained
Xtery.

"What makes you think mine don't?" demanded Miles.

"True.  How can I really know for sure, because you've
fooled me more than once since I met you.  But your
body cells at the moment proclaim you're about
sixty-two years old.  Thus, the assumption that I'm
older than you are."

"Well, I wouldn't be too sure about them assumptions,"
said Miles.  "And, anyway, age is sometimes a matter
of perspective.  I feel old and I know I look old, so
therefore I'm a lot older than you.  Or at least I'm
older than you think.  And, anyway, how come you guys
live so long?"

"Fairly healthy lifestyle, I would presume.  Very
little pollution on Tarrmell.  Maybe we evolved
differently.  Not from lizards, per se, but perhaps
from an ancient species of the animal referred to on
this planet as the dinosaur.  Something like
Tyrannosaurus Rex, perhaps."

"A rather vicious creature here on earth a few years
ago," said Miles.

"We are more refined on Tarrmell these days than we
used to be," said Xtery.  "Or, at least I prefer to
believe so."

"My own people were always gentle," said Miles.  "We
evolved from a gentle creature that would not hurt
anything or anyone.  A grass-eater.  And somewhere
along the way we had to learn to be more aggressive in
nature in order to survive.  I don't know for sure,
but I think we're a pretty vicious people these days. 
Or maybe we developed certain survival skills."

"You don't know who you really are nor where you came
from and yet you know something like that?" asked
Xtery.

"Yeah.  Funny, ain't it?  But that's what I sense. 
Only it's stronger than a sense.  It's a solid
feeling, you know?"

"I'll take your word for it," said Muduud.

"I suppose I will, too," said Xtery.

"Ah, you're no fun.  Surely, you know more than you're
saying."

"Well, sometimes it's better to keep things to
yourself," said Xtery.  "Doesn't pay to spread diverse
knowledge of a non-beneficial nature."

"Yeah?" challenged Miles.  "You must have an opinion
about why I turned up in Alabama.  Why not San Diego,
for example."

"You don't really want to know my opinion."

"I do," said Muduud.  He sat on the rim of the
seatback, his legs crossed.  Occasionally, he moved
his wings to keep his balance.

"Me, too," said Miles.  "Spill it."

"It's simple," said Xtery.  "You wonder why you ended
up in Alabama.  The only possible calculated answer is
refuse."

"What does that mean in English?" demanded Miles.

"They, whoever they are, discarded you."

"Nyah!"  His tone indicated great doubt.  He rubbed at
the stubble of beard on his chin.

"In the alleyway in El Paso," Xtery said, "I thought
you were sick.  Later, I came to the conclusion that
you wouldn't have been killed by cancer, it was only
there in your body to give the appearance that you
were dying.  Which would have further indicated many
subplots.  Even later, I realized my mistake.  You
definitely had a terminal cancer, but it wasn't
ordinary cancer.  It was a very complex malignant
growth.  An alien cancer, if you will.  Yes, you would
have died."

"Am I still gonna die?" Miles asked in a somber tone.

"Not for a while now," Xtery said.  "I suspect that
you'll live out your normal life span.  Of course, I
don't know what that is.  Under the circumstances, I
suppose it could be said that you'll live to a ripe
old age."

"A bunch of goodly years," said Miles.  He was silent
for a moment.  "Then you must know what I am. 
Really."

"That, I do not know," said Xtery.

"I musta been something useful.  Otherwise, I wouldn't
have been on board the ship, period."

"A decent assumption," said Xtery.

After a pause, Miles said, "I don't believe you about
that discard stuff.  If I was useful before, I would
have been useful later."

"I wouldn't believe me either," Xtery said.

"Life is sure funny sometimes," Muduud said.  Even the
little Verdidiun seemed occupied in thought.  He
almost fell from his perch.  A rapid beat of his wings
brought him back to his former position.

"Downright weird in fact," said Miles.

"Oh, good," said Xtery.  "The girls have finished
shopping."

"How'd you know that?" asked Miles.

"I've been keeping watch," said Xtery.

"Then why did you send Muduud here to check on them a
few minutes ago?"

"To give Muduud something to do," said Xtery. 
"Anyway, at that particular time, I was keeping the
car cool.  It's rather hot in Vegas this time of year.
 About one hundred and fifteen degrees as a rule and
probably a little warmer than that here in the parking
lot.  I've been bringing in some cool air from Alaska.
 A neat trick."

"Gee, thanks," said Muduud.

"You're sure one handy fellow to have around," Miles
told Xtery.  "I'll admit that."

Starr just then walked out of a set of several double
doors in the shopping mall.  Bdudd was right beside
her in the air, wings churning furiously as she
carried a shopping bag that any moment threatened to
drag her down.

"About time!" said Muduud.  "I thought they'd never
finish!"

"Just in time, would be a more precise statement,"
said Xtery.  "They must have tracked us down through
the credit card.  The military police have been
alerted at Nellis Air Force Base just northeast of
here.  They're en route.  A helicopter.  Several Jeeps
of soldiers."

"Can they do things like that?" asked Miles.

"I would think they're moving a little faster than
ordinary.  How, I don't know," said Xtery.  "I
expected that they might trace the jacket to me in
Juarez.  But not so soon.  It should have taken days."

"They're getting help," said Miles.  "That's the
simple solution."

"Evidently," Xtery said.

There wasn't enough room in the Volkswagen for the
items that Starr had purchased.  Xtery popped them
into their home outside of Juarez.  And, as soon as
Starr and Bdudd were inside the car, he calmly drove
out of the parking lot and onto the Strip, then south
at a leisurely pace until they reached a junction with
Interstate 15 that led toward Los Angeles.  A few
miles south, he turned on the highway that led to
Pahrump and almost immediately popped the Volkswagen
to Searchlight on the highway that led from Las Vegas
to Laughlin, Nevada.

"This won't throw them off the trail," he said.  "I
suspect they've already know about our home in Mexico.
 But it might confuse them for a few minutes."

He popped the car on to Wickenburg, Arizona, and then
to the highway that led into Tucson.  After less than
a second in Lordsburg, New Mexico, they were home.

"Xtery and I believe they've got some kinda help,"
Miles told Starr as they sat for a moment inside the
car in the patio in front of the house.

"That's strange," said Starr.  "Who?"

"Somebody from outer space," said Miles and laughed. 
His laughter was so infectious that Bdudd and Muduud
also laughed like the pealing of shrill little bells.

"That is, indeed, funny," said Muduud.  "Now I
understand this thing about sarcasm.  I knew I would
catch on to it eventually."

"You want to hear some real sarcasm?  I was just
wondering," Miles said, "how them folks at the Little
A'Le'Inn explained all of them Jeeps parked out front
of their place."

He laughed again.

"Even more sarcasm," said Xtery, "would be needed to
explain all of the Jeeps parked out in the street
outside our house beyond yonder wall."

(continued next week)

I don't know why we war.  Still.  Idiots claimed we
had no choice but to invade Iraq because they had
weapons of mass destruction.  Having such a weapon and
delivering it are entirely two different aspects of
destruction.  Regardless, they had none of these.
Merely a rusting automatic, an artillery shell
gathering dust and tears.  Idiots said there were mass
graves; I heard the number "hundred thousand"
mentioned, an absurb figure.  There were no such
graves.  Idiots said they were evil.  More evil than
whom?  This past week, a mother and her two children
were slaughtered as American soldiers shot at Iraqi
"insurgents."  Why?  To save them from themselves?  To
teach them a lesson?  Death is a poor instruction
device.  Chalk up the mother and children as
"collateral damage" and apologize?  Sorry, but an
apology won't suffice.

Yes, there are now mass graves in Iraq.  Now.  And
millions who hate us with a passion that shall never
die.  No lesson learned by them.  No lesson
learned--yet--by us.

Now, we are slowly discovering, in spite of a media
controlled by the White House, the prison abuses in
Iraq were greater than known.  In Cuba, greater than
known.  Now, the White House, no longer really white,
has secret prisons scattered outside our nation.
Soon, perhaps, secret prisons inside our nation. 

Now, a U.S. paratrooper, tired of blood, sought asylum
in Canada because he did not wish to return to the
utter depavity and senselessness that currently exists
in Iraq, a nation we have thrown assunder.  He will, I
surmise, be court-martialed for desertion.  We
Americans have a tendency to do this.  Kill those who
do not wish to die.  Even you and me.  Eventually.

Hell, look what we're doing to a chess player!
Someone should have given him a medal.  Instead, we
have destroyed him.  A mere chess player whose only
crime is the playing of a game that hurt no one.

More and more, as I watch the news on television, I
realize the fantasy of our world as it currently
exists.  The reasons for attacking Iraq in the first
place are sweep under a carpet of lies, assumed
threats to national safety, ideologies that grow more
distant from sanity by the moment.  And the insanity
accumulates.

Meanwhile, it's like sitting on a rusty carpet tack.
You're hurting, but you aren't dead.  Yet.  But you
wonder what's going to kill you--tetanus, blood
poison, rabies.  Hey, you don't know where that tack
came from!

The United States of America is intent, it appears, on
wiping itself out.  We are dying constantly in Iraq
and soon in America. In many ways.  We just don't know
it yet.  My laptop is made in China.  My blue jeans,
Levis, made in Colombia.  My blank CDs from
Mitsubishi, a Japanese firm, were actually made in
Tiawan.  A great deal of the veggies that I eat are
grown in Mexico.  There is very little really American
anymore.  Increasingly, I feel like a stranger in my
own country.  Someone speaks of American values.
There are none.

To some extent, this is good.  Things made elsewhere.
This cross pollination.  Japan and Germany will
probably never attack us again because they own us.
The global world syndrome.  Unfortunately, as I
stated, the tack is rusty.  Eventually, if we continue
our present path, we will be killing Iraqis with guns
made by Iraqis.  Absurd, you say?  Everything
presently is absurd!

I note gasoline prices soaring.  Yet, at the same
time, people are getting richer from these trials and
tribulations we suffer at the filling stations of
America.  See that guy in the Mercedez-Benz.  He is
the one you need to blame; he's laughing at you.

I note the homeless increasing.  They have become a
hidden people--some, of course, not quite so
hidden--in America.  If they organized, if they rose
up as one, they could make Iraq a puny enemy.

Meanwhile, no one addresses these and other problems
in America.  We have problems gallore.  Shall I list
them for you?  The growing horrible violations of
children is an indication of something terribly amiss
with our own society!  Yet, we try to tackle the
perhaps problems in a distant nation, as if they have
no right to be different, and ignore our own problems
next door.  I do not understand this philosophy.

OTHER MATTERS
Tom Noonan, Tenoonan8@aol.com: "Hey there, Claude,
thanks for printing my email with the information
about the next Columbia/Epic Records Alumni Assoc.
reunion luncheon.  Claude, I will try to get you Gerry
Wexler's telephone number this coming  week as I, too,
loved Paul Ackerman and would love to read the eulogy
that Gerry wrote. Gerry so loved Paul that he named
his own son after Mr. Ackerman.   Paul was certainly a
teacher to all of us and a great one at that.  He was
remardable.  Do you remember that he had one room in
his house on Long Island that he kept open for wounded
birds, plus squirrels, other animals---when they were
wounded they could go to that toom and Paul would fix
whatever was wrong with them and release them back
into the wild.  Amazing!  He also had a companion,
Miss Wong, who would visit him occasionally at the
Billboard office in the Palace Theater Building.  We
were always very respectful to her.  He also loved the
Italian restaurant on 46th St.--midway between 6th and
Broadway on the south side of that street.  Seymour
Stein swears by him and reports that it was Paul
Ackerman who had lunch with Seymour's father and
talked him into letting his son go and live with Syd
Nathan, head of King Records in Cincinnati, for the
summer--where Seymour learned about running a label.
More re Paul later and I will get back to you re
Wexler's telephone number."

Meanwhile, courtesy of Sam Hale, I have written Jerry
Wexler a note.

Last issue of Radio Daily News had a mention about
KAHL, an AM station in San Antonio, going with Sonny
Melendrez and Carl Wigglesworth on the air, plus a
couple of names--Eliza Sonneland and George
McKenzie--that I guess I don't know.  My fault, not
theirs; been gone too long from the scene.  But I'm
glad to see Sonny and Carl doing well.  Both are
phenomenal personalities.  I've always believed in
strong personalities.  Hope the station does well.

There is a tendency among some people in radio to
think AM is amidst the poor brotherhood.  Not so.  I
often listen to AM in my old Chevy Astro Van because
it's more interesting, more entertaining.  I'm bored
with pap, give me the splendor and the interest of
personalities with different music!  I remember Bill
Drake telling me once that radio stations in Los
Angeles had Britished themselves to death...aluding to
the music rampant on the air at the time.  So, KHJ
played "Last Train to Clarksville" and "I Got You,
Babe."  A heady departure from the trend of the time.
Well, currently, at home, I'm into Los Super Seven.
And Linda Ronstadt singing in Spanish.  Or Van
Morrison with "Jambalaya."  Hey, there's no better way
in which to set your soul on fire.  In my old Astro
van, I listen to the Mexican station.  I may be 72,
but I'll be damned before I'll be a bored 72!

I hope, too, those of you interested in radio history
occasionally checkout http://www.ronjacobsonline.com/
Great website.  I would describe some of the radio
lore therein, but I'd much rather you read it
firsthand.

Bobby Vee is performing in Las Vegas around June 4 at
the Freemont Experience downtown.  I'm not sure, but I
think these performances are free, sponsored by the
city.  I suppose that Barbara and I and at least one
of my sons, Andy, will be there.  Maybe more.

In April, Bobby is performing at a casino in the
Albuquerque area.  I'd be willing to wager a
20-year-old toenail clipping that George and Jackie
Wilson will be on hand for the show.

Tedd Webb, teddwebb@tampabay.rr.com: "I have put
together a web page saluting those who have worked
Tampa Bay, either in radio or TV, or as band members.
Some of the biggest names in our industry have stopped
here for a cup of coffee. Check it out
www.teddwebb.com and go to the 'Where Are They Now'
button. It contains photos and bios. Love your web
site, am a frequent visitor."

Tedd also has http://www.teddwebbstrivia.com.