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This evening - well, yesterday now - I was given the fortunate opportunity to go to the open dress rehearsal of the Cincinnati Opera's local premiere of Margaret Garner, an opera they co-commissioned. Based on a local Cincinnati story, the opera, though not completely historically accurate, is good - very good, in fact - and extremely heart-wrenching, disturbing, thought-provoking, sad and, at times, hard to watch. And though I never ever will profess to be a musical critic, the performance, the music and the pace were excellent. Another fine performance by Cincinnati's opera production folks. To give you an idea how hard it was to watch, in the crowd of about 500 people of mostly friends and family of Opera employees, there were several children. During the opera's pivotal scene where Garner takes the life of her two young children, an approximately five-year-old child in the audience broke out into loud sobs. It further drove home the horror - the historic, real-life horror - that was being played out on the stage. Ever since I first heard of this opera early last year I couldn't wait to see it. As I've been privy to some of the preparation employees of the opera went through to get ready for this week, I was amazed at the passion and devotion they have given to this project. It's hard not to also mention the outlay of cash also needed to commission an opera- easily more than $2 million. Besides the Opera's hard work, I have been sadly dumbfounded and left in disbelief at the brazen and contemptuous telling of Margaret Garner's story at the plantation where this story started. The "farm" is just across the river from Cincinnati (near the airport). The way the docents tell the story that happened there isn't benign or just wrong or inaccurate, it's hurtful and extremely insensitive to the decedents of slaves that tour the site. On a more positive note, I have been blown away and deeply touched by Oprah Winfrey's telling of Toni Morrison's story in "Beloved". Though my West Coast friends knock us (hey, kiss my butt Ess Eff), we are lucky to be here in Cincinnati - a city on the move, evolving and changing and wanting to be better. But long before the Fountain gets slid 50 feet north and Bill Butler delights us with a mirror image along the Ohio River bringing us form to the mud pits nestled next to the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center, we had a kick-butt arts scenes. From Playhouse in the Park to the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra to the Contemporary Arts Center or that delightfully-free (thanks again Dick and Lois) Cincinnati Arts Museum - we're lucky to be here. Even right now.

It was pointed out to me by my co-host and dear friend, Brian, that the guy who told us Jesus gave him a woman also threw in the detail that the woman Jesus gave him probably couldn't have gotten very far very fast had she wanted to. She was wheelchair-bound. That doesn't change the story any, but it does make it a distinct degree odder than before...

Well, okay. So I made it through nearly a week posting everyday and then not only did the wheels fall off, the axle broke. But we're out of the shop and ready to roll. Walking back recently to my home with co-host Brian from a movie viewing at Newport on the Levee got me thinking about the blatant religious brainwashing going on in my little neighborhood. As we crossed Central Parkway and left the comfy confines of the CBD (that's "central business district" for suburbanites, or what many deem as the actual downtown area) and headed along Race Street to my apartment, a guy tried to stop us on the median and tell us about his experience with Jesus. Tonight, as he quickly explained, Jesus had given him a woman, a giant smile adorning his unshaven, scruffy-haired, nearly toothless face. "Praise Jesus," he said as he kept walking southward into the CBD. Just about five days earlier, the Sunday morning before we celebrated our Independence Day, I had the windows open in my apartment. Around 10:30 a.m. Jesus-music started to fill the innards of my living space and gave momentary pause to my two cats. Really, really loud Jesus music. At first it was beautiful. I kept thinking I need to get dressed and run over to Washington Park and hear this choir. They were something else. Then it didn't stop. And I realized it wasn't live. They had a Jesus-deejay spinning the music, interspersed with God-speak. Really, really loud preaching. When I finally stepped outside a couple hours later the sight across the park was deeply disturbing. There in the gazebo a loudspeaker was set up, microphone, mixer, looked like a CD player, maybe a turntable. And this large woman was standing in the gazebo, dressed in a pink and white dress, and was yelling Bible verses and espousing on the virtues contained therein at ear-piercing (maybe ear-exploding and bleeding - it was so loud) levels to people standing about 15 feet away. What got them to stand there? Hot dogs. They were standing there in a long line to get hot dogs. Meanwhile, this woman and others throughout the day blared Jesus-talk at these people. "If the drugs had you, now you have Jesus,” one said. “If you were addicted to drugs and alcohol, now you can be addicted to Jesus," screeched another. Eat our dogs, get God and be thankful and respectful of those that brought you over to get a wiener. It made me sick - way beyond the thought of eating a ground-up pig tail ‘n ear ‘n lip seasoned with pepper and spice. What's worse - and being a journalist I like to check these things out first, but I think I can safely assume - they weren't allowed to be there. They didn't get a permit to shout at these people in these denigrating tones. They didn't get a permit to yelp into my apartment windows. And they didn't leave until nearly 6 p.m. The Drop-Inn Center is just a half-block away and serves three square meals a day for free. What I want to know is why hot dogs for free, coupled with insulting rants, when free, rant-free meals are served nearby? I understand that the Drop-Inn folks get a little puzzled when every so often a van will pull up outside their facility and hand out bags of food. What’s different? Inside those bags of food are Bible verses. All this commotion and sound pollution got me thinking. I wonder why no one complains just about the sheer intensity of the sound shooting out of the park? Is it status quo in a neighborhood full of people who already feel so abandoned and helpless and pushed aside that they think another cry from Over-the-Rhine would go unheeded? Or is it wrong to question religious leaders? Or were those dogs some Hebrew Nationals, that plump when you cook 'em, and served with the freshest relish ever that the folks in line actually look forward to Hot Dog Days? I have to admit I didn't walk over - I was in a hurry to get somewhere - but spoke to a person who has lived in the neighborhood for nearly a decade. This happens fairly regularly. We’ve had at least two Hot Dog Days in June. Am I nearly the only one wondering what the heck is going on? And cares?

In preparation for starting the radio show I compiled an e-mail list of every person, place or thing that I've ever met, coupled that with Brian's list and wound up with an impressive e-mail list just shy of 3,000 e-mail addresses. On that list were at least one of the Galvin brothers, those stupid ones who have a radio show on WVXU. Jene and Jerry have or, moreover, had (Jene left to help out the Springer on the Radio show earlier this year; Jerry continues alone), a radio show on WVXU. Every Sunday evening at 10 p.m. the two would come on my living room radio and rant about utter silliness. They make up stories, interview Jerry Springer, laugh at themselves, take calls and threaten that every show was their last show. I actually liked listening to the show, though many times I found it pointless. But pointlessness sometimes is good, especially on a Sunday night as I wound down from a hectic weekend. Many people who I'd ask if they heard their show had at one time or another and felt more strongly that pointlessness shouldn't appear on their public radio station. I smiled and politely disagreed. We purposefully made our e-mail list easy to unsubscribe from. So far about 500 e-mail addresses have asked to be taken off. Not a problem and it's easy to do - just click on a link . I hate spam myself, and would hate to be contributing to that classification of junk mail. But I have to admit, it was really sad when I got the automatic unsubscribe message from our ListServ when Jene Galvin took himself off our list. How could he? Don't we radio folks stick together? I mean, I'm not saying much, but Brian & Joe, I think, trumps Stupid Galvins four to one. If you've listened - heck, if they have listened - you'd have to agree. And I would have never said that before, but, look, hey, they're pumping that off-the-mark near-comedy through the entire X-Star Radio Network. And I was for it. Until now. Now I'm just hurt. Jene and I spoke on the phone a few times long before the Brian & Joe Radio Show was even conceptualized. We met when I scheduled Jerry Springer to speak at an SPJ luncheon. What had I done to irk him so much that he would take the initiative to unsubscribe himself from another radio show's e-mail list? Hey, I'm still on the Springer on the Radio e-mail list. Is it because the Brian & Joe Radio Show is on at the same time as Jerry in Cincinnati (I realize that our small, but loyal listenership may posses all the Arbitron books in Cincinnati, but that's not our fault)? I wish he'd write and tell me. I'm here. I'm willing to listen. And I want to have radio buddies, especially ones that I admire.