Cory_McCloskey's Blog

Day Trip Not For The Faint Of Heart...

If you ever pick up a map in a coffee shop while killing some time in the wonderful, historic town of Williams, just west of Flagstaff, and you deduce that the straight line on the map indicates a straight road south to Jerome, and you think to yourself, "I LOVE Jerome! I think I'll just motor the 41 miles on down to Jerome and enjoy the scenery along the way," you should grab hold of yourself or ask someone nearby to grab hold of you and slap you a few sharp slaps to bring you to your senses, for the map you're looking at is the same kind of map that led the Donner Party along its "short cut" to California. It's a humbug of the worst kind.

Oh, you'll enjoy the first 10 or 11 miles of the "Perkinsville Road" as it winds through mountain meadows and soaring ponderosas, carrying you smoothly south out of Williams upon its beautifully asphalted back, butterflies skittering out of your way as you cut through the pine-scented air, looking forward to stretching your legs and grabbing a cool lemonade in Perkinsville on your way. You'll feel as if you're in a movie as your radio carries the strong signals from Flagstaff, a moving soundtrack supporting each new and more pleasant vista.

Soon, however, a niggling thought will cross your mind.

"Did that sign say 'Pavement Ends 1 Mile,'" you murmur. "Hmmm... Pavement ends...

That doesn't even make sense," you think. "This map shows the road ending in Jerome."

So you shake your head and press on, wondering what kind of mischief those "sign guys" were up to. In exactly a mile, however, your reverie is harshly reined in as it is curtly and obviously illustrated that, while Coconino County is proud of its stretch of this road, Yavapai County prefers to leave the "road" just as God intended it to be: not quite as smooth as an abandoned logging trail but slightly better than a popular goat path.

And, ohhhhh, the quaint employment of dizzying switchbacks and deadly drop-offs causes the mind to drift back to the days when the Perkins family apparently was banished by some sadistic territorial magistrate to live out their days among the endless ridges and valleys that slash across this arid stretch of the West, for you can think of nothing else that could have caused the birth of Perkinsville, which, from what you can see through the dust as you clatter by, consists of one ranch and the terminus of the Verde Canyon Railroad. What could the Perkinses have done to deserve THIS, you wonder. But you cannot wonder too long, for even at the breakneck speed of 20 mph, you must concentrate on avoiding the fossils and granite outcroppings that form your roadbed and wonder if the clunk you heard was merely the anvil-sized rock you just passed over or the mournful sound of your oil pan bidding adieu to your crankcase.

You regret having checked your odometer at Williams, for instead of just pressing onward with a grim determination to make Jerome "whenever you get there," you now know that, considering your laughable pace and the 25 miles left to go, you will not see Jerome for a very long time.

You haven't met another vehicle, and, except for the signs that constantly warn you of the next series if poisonous hairpin turns, human intrusion into this landscape seems to be solely yours.

But hark! What's this? Two wooden crosses at the edge of a 120-foot drop-off. Out of reverence, you stop to pay your respects.  In the stillness of the midday heat you look far below you and see, left at the canyon's bottom, the bumper of the car that must have carried the memorialized to their ends.

At this point, the only thing missing from the scene is the bleached skeleton of the ox that gave out while pulling the wagon...

The miles crawl by as your dashboard's hot needle creeps upward, your engine choking on dust last stirred by the hooves of some long-dead miner's burro.  You keep searching the horizon for the mountainside J that marks Jerome, but your gaze is met only by another mountain.

And just when your teeth feel ready to vacate their sockets from the incessant jarring, the "road" seems to smooth a bit.  It almost seems as if other vehicles might have once passed over this same route.  Could humans be near?  You reach the top of the next long pull up a canyon wall and burst through the crags back into the bright blue...


Cory on the Perkinsville Road just north of Jerome, AZ

Your odometer tells you you're just a few miles from relief, but the relentless landscape mocks your hope.  Still, nothing can bridle your joy as you finally spot Jerome's cluster of rooftops, its houses clinging to the side of the next mountain.

Like a modern-day Archimedes, "Eureka!" rockets from your lips as blessed civilization bursts on your sight.  You collapse on your steering wheel as you drift down the final series of switchbacks past the rusting machinery and tumbledown shacks that mark Jerome's affair with copper.

"Never again," you whisper, perhaps stifling a sob.  "Next time, in a Hummer."

Were you blown away by the Olympics' opening ceremony?

I wish I'd seen all of it, but what I caught was the most spectacular live event I've ever seen!  Communists or not, they put on an amazing show LOL. 

London has its work cut out for Summer '12... 

Goofy Teeth.

The best $12 you'll ever spend.

Do you enjoy the people there?  Do you laugh a lot?

I gotta tell ya...  That 's us.  We laugh constantly!  On the air (inappropriate laughter is our hallmark)...  During commercial breaks...  In the morning meeting...  There are a lot of funny, quick people on our staff, and whatever the joke is, you can count on a lot of embroidery before we move on to the next topic.

It would be a BLAST to do the program with a studio audience!  You'd see the kind of nonsense that makes up our mornings.  I'm not sure who would comprise our 5 am studio audience...  Hmmm... 

Anyway, I know you'd find Ron and Rick and Alexis and Andrea and Jayme and Diane and Alexis V and Tina and Tiffany to be just as much fun in person. 

I speak to lots of children, and I always try to encourage them to remember, as they get bigger, to hold on to the things that they think are fun RIGHT NOW.  One never knows how bugs or the clarinet or juggling or math games or imitating people's voices or building tree forts might figure into one's future.  And don't let any stupid bully or boring uncle ever try to tell you that what you're doing when you're 8 years old is a waste of time.  "Who cares about drawing pictures of horses?"  Ummm...  Art schools with scholarships? 

All I ever wanted to be in school was funny and on the stage in front of people.  I guess it worked out!  (At least the "in front of people" part...)

So thanks again, for tuning in!  We'll be here for you every morning...  Please say hi anytime you see us out and about!

I'm constantly reminded of what a blessing it is to enjoy what you do for a living.  Many might doubt that I do much anyway (LOL) but apparently whatever it is is still considered a commodity worth paying for. 

Today, after the usual two hours doing the weather in the studio, I zipped up to Lake Pleasant for some fun on the water.  And today my buddy, photographer Tom Fergus, brought along his wireless camera, so he was able to be out on the lake with me in his own boat while I took a spin on a waverunner.  What a BLAST! 

The lake was practically empty, so after we went to commercial I headed for open water to see "what she could do."  What she can do is 84 mph.  Yikes.  I'm not much of a daredevil, and it didn't feel like 84 to me, but I'll trust the speedometer.  Of course, as I said, I was the only one around for a half mile or more.  F-U-N!  I don't recommend those speeds on a weekend, but it was quite a ride...

Also, check out the "duck boats", the WWII landing amphibious craft that carry sightseers from land to water and back again along the lake.  We had some fun on one of those, too...

I've been experimenting with downloading movies on my iPod, and I've found it's a great timekiller when you're sitting in the car waiting for a daughter's rehearsal to end or waiting at the dentist or whatever.

I thought the tiny screen would be too much of a drawback, but I've found that the sound is so rich that it helps to overcome the annoyance of a small picture.

You're probably thinking, "I've been doing that for years..."  I guess I always thought a movie would take up too much space, but I just dump it after I've watched it and download another. 

I don't recommend something that requires a huge screen (Star Wars?) but almost anything does well since the soundtracks sound so great in digital.

Right now I have two of the Bourne movies on there...  I'll be the guy squinting. 

Hey, folks!

Had a great time this morning with the kids at Navarette Elementary in Chandler!  I love the questions i get...

    How much do you make?
    Is your job fun?
    How old are you?
    Do you have any pets?
   
   
It's so fun to watch their faces as Skyfox touches down...  I wish a helicopter had landed at MY elementary school in 1965! 

Do you have any remarkable elementary school memories?  Presidential visit?  Fire drill that turned out to be real? 

Impress us!
   

Most disturbing video so far this year...

Merry Christmas! Happy Hannakuh! Happy Kwaanza! Happy Holidays! Super Solstice!

Does it really make a difference? Is the discussion worth the effort? I suppose that if you feel that YOUR holiday is being squeezed out of the picture by the hall monitors of political correctness, then it might make a difference to you.

In that case, let's see who's being squeezed. Hmmm...

Heard of any pressure on anyone to refrain from wishing someone a Happy Hannakuh lately? No? Any movement to squash the open discussion of Kwaanza in school? Certainly not!

I guess it's only Christmas that is verboten, jah? Only Christmas is on the run.

Isn't it silly? 

If we try to take the emotion out of it for a moment and analyze the greeting itself, what in the world is so offensive?

Merry Christmas.  Isn't it merely a pleasant wish for the recipient by the one who says it?  Is it any more intrusive than "God bless you" after a sneeze, or "Godspeed" when wishing for someone's quick arrival?  Or even "have a nice day"?

In other words, how can it really hurt?  Even if the recipient of a "Merry Christmas" wish is a cast-iron, four-door athiest, how is the atheist harmed by this purely positive sentiment?  The answer is that he isn't.  He isn't harmed at all. What ever happened to just smiling and moving along? 

Must the Christmas-hating lobby inflict their narrow-minded views on the rest of us?  Isn't it interesting that those who tend to crow most about "diversity" and "inclusiveness" want to include everything but Christmas?  They're laughably transparent, yet immune to irony.

Do you know any American Jews who are offended by the sight of Christmas lights or Santa or being wished the accidental "Merry Christmas"?  Michael Medved, the movie critic and orthodox American Jew, is one of the staunchest defenders of Christmas and all it entails.  He feels that the lights and displays alone are so American and woven into the nation's fabric that they should not be molested.  Thanks, Mr. Medved.

Anyway, the debate will roll on through Christmas, 2007 and into 2008 and beyond.  Those who love Christmas and all that it means to most Americans will continue to defend the ability to celebrate it freely, and those with nothing to do but continue their attempts to make sure that everyone is as indifferent and miserable as they are will also stay their course.

Merry Christmas!

Ok, all...

Confession time.  Finally did it.  Put up our first artificial Christmas tree. 

Like many of you, I grew up in a climate that allowed a tree that had probably been cut down a month before to survive another month in the living room before dropping its needles in a piney heap on the tree skirt.  And the wonderful scent...  Nothing like it.

Arizona, however, has not that climate.  Here, Christmas trees have a shelf life that's measured in minutes, not weeks.  Last year I actually returned a Christmas tree to the store from which it had come because its needles were tinkling to the floor just two weeks after purchase.  Now, I'm not saying that the return was a hassle, but the store, the name of which rhymes with "schmarget," was not enthusiastic about my refund.  It was eventually accomplished, but not at full price because I didn't have my receipt.  Silly me.  No receipt for my Christmas tree.  Usually I keep those things around until Valentine's Day, just to be safe.

Anyway, we found a $450, 9-foot, pre-lit tree that looked like it had been made by Santa's own elves for about $90 just after last Christmas.  Jackpot!

Put it up over the weekend, and you could almost hear the angels singing as the lights (every ONE of them) flashed on!  I'm a believer!

Now the only glitch is to persuade three daughters that it'll be ok.  They're already reminiscing about that sweet forest scent.

I think a few pine air fresheners tucked into the boughs just may do the trick...  Any suggestions?

This will be fun!

Come out and meet Nicola Kraus and Emma McLaughlin, the authors of "The Nanny Diaries," Tuesday evening (September 25th) at the Hilton Scottsdale Resort & Villas on Scottsdale Road.

I'll be hosting the two for an informal gab about their smash novel and their real-life experiences as Manhattan nannies. You'll have a chance to ask your own questions of the two - it'll be a blast!

Here's a link to the event details...

http://blacktie-arizona.com/calendar/inde
x.cfm?FuseCalendar_ID=2361&CurntDate=09/24/2007&region=
0&FUSEACTION=ShowEvent

Hope to see you there!

Another example of the kind of barbaric inSANITY that we are fighting in Iraq...  Now a Danish cartoonist is being hunted like an animal because he depicted the prophet Mohammed as a man with the body of a dog.  http://www.wnd.com/news/article.asp?ARTICLE_ID=57434>

Enjoy the following:

In a statement issued on Saturday by Al Qaeda in Iraq, the group's leader, Abu Omar al-Baghdadi, called for the killing of Vilks and his editor Ulf Johansson, reports Al Jazeera.

"We are calling for the assassination of cartoonist Lars Vilks who dared insult our prophet, peace be upon him, and we announce a reward during this generous month of Ramadan of $100,000 for the one who kills this criminal," he said.

"The award will be increased to $150,000 if he were to be slaughtered like a lamb."

 

This brutish contract is symptomatic of an evil that desires nothing less than world domination.  These freaks want to kill this cartoonist.  If you, reading this, are not a muslim, then they want to kill you.  And your infidel family.  Convert or die.  And if you don't think this is their aim, you are naive.

They were here in 1993 in the basement of the World Trade Center.

They were here in September of 2001.

They'll be back if they're not stopped. 

 

Here's some advice.  Always keep a few dollars on you.  Always.

Because if you happen to be traveling the Pennsylvania Turnpike, the Turnpike Commission will not accept debit cards, credit cards, organ donor cards or livestock as payment for using their highway.  This probably seems like common sense to you, doesn't it?  Of course it does.  I have what is commonly called "no sense."  Somehow, I thought that, this being the 21st century and all, I could just offer my debit card as payment.

So if you try my approach, you will engage the toll collector in a much more intimate way than usual.  You'll actually have a conversation.  You'll exit your car and approach the glass enclosure.  Your encounter will start with a huge, heavy sigh by the turnpike employee.  The kind of sigh that says, "You are the stupidest person I've met this month."

This will be followed by much copying down of numbers and addresses and the receipt of the yellow copy that you've signed and by your signature have promised to pay your toll within 10 days or face a $1,000 fine.

So again...  Just a few dollars can save a whole lot of talk with someone who doesn't like you and will never see you again.

Cashless society?  Riiiiiiiight.
 

 

 

So have you been to one of yours? Tell us some stories!

Mary Jane and I will be traveling 2500 miles back to Pennsylvania for my 29th (LOL) Millersburg Area High School class reunion this weekend. The class is using the occasion of Millersburg's huge bicentennial celebration this Summer to gather all of us in, so organizers decided to grab us a year early instead of waiting for our 30th.

Here's where we're headed...

A shot of one of the ferryboats that crosses the Susquehanna at Millersburg...

I'll report on the weekend when we return!  Tell us your kooky reunion stories

 

Viewers know I love to sing, as I often subject my co-anchors to unrequested and unwanted numbers.  I've had the privilege of performing our National Anthem at a few Suns' games, and it's a thrill to see all of those hands over all those hearts and to watch everyone singing along.

Now I get to live every singer's dream - singing the anthem at a major league ballpark!  The Cubbies are in town, and Saturday night I hope to be a bit of luck for the DBacks (I'm 2 wins for 2 performances for the Suns...LOL) down at the Chase.  And the fun thing is that WGN broadcasts nationwide and carries the opening ceremonies of all the Cubs' games, so maybe my Mom will get to watch back in Pennsylvania.

 It's an honor to sing the anthem anywhere, and I've done it many times at all kinds of events, but I know this is one I'll remember...  Hopefully not because I forgot the words and ended up on SportsCenter.