I nearly fell off my roof the other day. Not the roof at my primary home but my summer home in Gilberton. Well, not really my summer home... but my time share. I was up there trying to get my antenna ready for the big day, June 12 th; the day when television reception signals were scrambled. I don’t know about you, but I recommend having the large Australian rabbit ear antenna on the roof. It helps with getting clearer reception for Baywatch.
I had always been reluctant to sign up for cable tv even though cable television was created in Mahanoy City, not far from my summer time share. I refuse to pay for something that I can get for free. It doesn’t matter if it involves television or my love life. It must be my upbringing.
Don’t think that I was never tempted to hook-up with cable television or a satellite dish. I often thought about it. I am envious of cable subscribers who can watch the bulletin board on Comcast Channel 7 or Pottsville Station Channel 15 throughout the day. But luckily through the kindness of friends I have amassed a great bulletin board video library.
I nearly fell off of the roof that day because Mammy yelled up and told me that the Grammy Award
Show has stripped Polka of its recognition as music. It was a shock I will never forget. No more awards to a polka band! To add insult to injury, all past polka recipients must return their awards accompanied by a written apology. It was the saddest day of my life since Pluto was stripped of its status as a planet. It brought back memories of the day Jim Thorpe had to return his Olympics medals and then face banishment in Mauch Chunk.
The Polka Industry should have listened to me. I tried to warn them. I was a voice crying out in the wilderness. I told them that the music needed to become hip and relevant. I suggested that twenty per cent of all future polka albums use such terms as ‘ho,’ ‘bizzle,’ ‘big behind,’ 'pimp’ and ‘gettin' jiggy.’ If the vocalists were too prudish to use such terms in english, then they could slip them in songs using Polish or Russian slang. Crude word usage such as 'cichodajka,' 'bljad', and 'dupek' may have helped save the grammy recognition.
I also told them that their dress had to be modernized. I said, “…get more gold chains…. let your underwear show…and for God’s sake,get your noses and eyebrows pierced…” Maybe they should appear in public only wearing their socks, just like the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I told them to dump the upbeat melodies and focus more on pain, despair and death. I told them to get rid of the E-I-E-I-Os and introduce guttural roars, grunts, snarls, and low gurgles. I also told them to get
some woman onstage during the next Pierogi Bowl, maybe Mrs. T herself, and have a "wardrobe malfunction," like Janet Jackson had at the Superbowl several years ago. But no one listened to me, not Happy Louie, not Joe Stanky, not even Little Andy himself. Even though this is what the public wants, the polka industry refused to change course, and now the polka industry is finished, worthless as my unused tickets for the Lakewood Roller Coaster.
I had always been reluctant to sign up for cable tv even though cable television was created in Mahanoy City, not far from my summer time share. I refuse to pay for something that I can get for free. It doesn’t matter if it involves television or my love life. It must be my upbringing.
Don’t think that I was never tempted to hook-up with cable television or a satellite dish. I often thought about it. I am envious of cable subscribers who can watch the bulletin board on Comcast Channel 7 or Pottsville Station Channel 15 throughout the day. But luckily through the kindness of friends I have amassed a great bulletin board video library.
I nearly fell off of the roof that day because Mammy yelled up and told me that the Grammy Award
Show has stripped Polka of its recognition as music. It was a shock I will never forget. No more awards to a polka band! To add insult to injury, all past polka recipients must return their awards accompanied by a written apology. It was the saddest day of my life since Pluto was stripped of its status as a planet. It brought back memories of the day Jim Thorpe had to return his Olympics medals and then face banishment in Mauch Chunk.The Polka Industry should have listened to me. I tried to warn them. I was a voice crying out in the wilderness. I told them that the music needed to become hip and relevant. I suggested that twenty per cent of all future polka albums use such terms as ‘ho,’ ‘bizzle,’ ‘big behind,’ 'pimp’ and ‘gettin' jiggy.’ If the vocalists were too prudish to use such terms in english, then they could slip them in songs using Polish or Russian slang. Crude word usage such as 'cichodajka,' 'bljad', and 'dupek' may have helped save the grammy recognition.
I also told them that their dress had to be modernized. I said, “…get more gold chains…. let your underwear show…and for God’s sake,get your noses and eyebrows pierced…” Maybe they should appear in public only wearing their socks, just like the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I told them to dump the upbeat melodies and focus more on pain, despair and death. I told them to get rid of the E-I-E-I-Os and introduce guttural roars, grunts, snarls, and low gurgles. I also told them to get
some woman onstage during the next Pierogi Bowl, maybe Mrs. T herself, and have a "wardrobe malfunction," like Janet Jackson had at the Superbowl several years ago. But no one listened to me, not Happy Louie, not Joe Stanky, not even Little Andy himself. Even though this is what the public wants, the polka industry refused to change course, and now the polka industry is finished, worthless as my unused tickets for the Lakewood Roller Coaster.I carefully got down from the roof and went into the parlor to wait for the government to scramble my television reception from analog into digital. Mammy was scared; she remembered what had happened to our computer when the millennium started. “Will the remote control now adversely affect her pacemaker?” “Will the Prince of Belair still remain fresh?” “Will the same old crap still be on?” We held each other tight and shared a cigarette; waiting for the moment to arrive. “Would the NBC Peacock begin molting, shedding its feathers?” “Would Law and Order have too much Order and not enough Law?” “Will Morley be any Safer?”
All the while my mind drifted back to the shabby treatment given the Polka. I swore that day that if my tv set still worked I would never watch the Grammies ever again. Instead I would watch some of my old analog tapes of the Community Bulletin Board.
When the big day came the government mandated change-over was actually easier than back in the late 1970s,when everyone was forced to convert from eight-track to cassette.
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