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Here is a Sup—I mean repository of the texts of my together with some readings of them. The essays were broadcast by WXXI 91.5 Classical of Rochester, NY on Salmagundy each Saturday at 9:35am Eastern Time, from the beginning of time (1985) till May 2009 when Entropa (evil Goddess of Change-for-the-Worse-or-Possibly-the-Worst) troubled the minds of the WXXIites and they retired Simon and Salmagundy, and Rochester went into a terminal decline---for ever.
I continued on that brilliant bastion of all that's good and kultured, WCLV's syndicated Weekend Radio on many (mainly NPRish) stations traditionally on the first and third weekends of the month, though weekendage varied, till the horror crept ever onward and that too was devoured (in August 2023, a date which will live in infamy or at lease mild irritation)... and only I remain, defiant though wimpering.
Richard Howland-Bolton
There are pop-up pics and links all over the place here. In text they are indicated by a double underline like this:
mouse-overing brings the pop-up up and clicking (usually) goes to the link |
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I think I have mentioned before that I once stepped onto London Bridge on the north bank of the Thames in London and then stepped off it again at the other end in Lake Havasu City in Arizona.
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 So, I want to know, what is it with you chaps and your flag? Not only do several million kids pledge themselves to it every morning for a good part of the year, not only do you fly it at every appropriate opportunity (and rather a lot of inappropriate ones too—I mean, how patriotic can all those used car lots possibly be?)
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Last week my broadcast revealed an incredible insight into the Great American Psyche---no, of course I don’t mean that anything I said was the revelation, I mean what surrounded it.
If you remember last week dealt with the horror and danger of saying “MacBeth” and I apparently collapsed at the end of it.
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As I might have mentioned before I suffer from recurrent (and, now that the weather down here has got so hot, quite debilitating) attacks of jogging.
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Hello. This just in: here is a report live from our irony department: where our roving cub reporter is out playing cowboys and indians in a park somewhere in Texas where, even as they are happily shouting "Bang! Bang! You're dead!" with such innocent glee, there is a move afoot by the City Council to make public use of toy guns by children illegal, while at almost exactly the same time, and not so far away, over in Austin, the Texas legislature appears to be all set to pass a bill to allow concealed handguns in government buildings and other public places.
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Well for a start, just what is that cold, wet, white crunchy stuff? I mean---All I did was to come back up north for a few days to visit various inlaws and outlaws and to break a few bylaws and to find I'm forced to stay indoors and (as it turned out) renew my appreciation of the Texas climate, because, well, there is all this cold, wet, white crunchy stuff. I, ...
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Well I've just made an heroic midwinter visit up to the cold-wet-white-crunchy-stuff-strewn wastes of New York---up to Rochester and then on to Ithaca to be precise and I actually managed to survive! I even (unlike the unfortunate participants in the amazingly terrifying total of about a dozen accidents we saw on the way back) survived without so much as a scratch.
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I may have mentioned in the past how disconcerting it is for us would-be members of Britain's Noise Abatement Society when we come to the States. Whoever it was said "Walk softly and carry a big stick" must surely have been only a half American, why I bet he couldn't even shoot a bear---because big sticks aside this definitely is not a tiptoeing sort of a country.
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I bet you are really getting fed up with everyone on the radio always going on and on about the election, and I’m sure that’s why you’ve tuned into Simon.
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