Much, Much Too Much.

It wasn't so very long ago that the "news" consisted of 22 minutes each day.

Only.

The news was sandwiched between commercials into a 30-minute telecast at 5:30 p.m.  You could choose which network to give you that news.  You could choose CBS, NBC or ABC.  They were the only three major networks back then.  They had affiliate stations across the land, on channels 5, 9, 11 and 13, handling the local news, enabling them to "network" their stations together.  Hence, the name.

But I remind everyone, all the stations signed off at midnight, and we were forced to stare at a black and white picture of an Indian Chief.  All night long.  Before we were encouraged to call them "Indigenous Personages."  

All three of these networks' newscasts were simple, straightforward and apolitical.  They provided the National and International news their local stations couldn't.  And wouldn't.  And that was just fine with us.  

Shockingly, in retrospect.  We subsequently learned that the anchors for these networks, Cronkite, Brokaw, Brinkley, Jennings, Reasoner and others, were personally very Liberal and very biased, but they didn't show it.  Perhaps their networks reflected their biases in their choice of stories to tell, but we weren't smart enough to know it at the time.  And that's if they did.  

All in all, I'd call this the "Golden Age" of news.   

Picture this:  We usually rode around with the car radio blaring, so we knew what was going on locally.  The local fair schedule, the weather, the cattle and hog futures report, and the invitation from the local bank to stop by and get a free ball point pen.  But if we wanted to know what was happening out there in the world, and most of us didn't, we'd catch the 5:30 news.  Usually while getting ready to go out and look for girls.  Listening in the background.  While doing the three "S's."  And then we'd promptly forget everything we'd just heard.

Today, there's a 24-hour news cycle from at least 15 different broadcast and cable sources.  Talking heads talking loudly, each clamoring for our attention.  So they can sell ads.  No longer straight-down-the-middle.  It's slanted to the Left or the Right.  But waaaay more on the Left.  And in a couple of instances, Hard Left!  It's Watch Me!  Listen to Me!  We're your kind of people!  You have every reason to hate Trump!  We do too!  Hello!  

HELLO!!!

In fact, I grew up in an era where nobody gave a sh*t what political party you belonged to.  Nobody talked about it.  Nobody divided themselves into insular, us vs. them, "party" affiliations such as they do now.  When time came to vote, you voted the party offering you the most in return.  The most spent at home, the most left in my pocket after taxes.  Simple.

As I recall the only thing dividing people in the least back then was whether you were a "War Hawk," or a "Peacenik."  Some wanted to spread our brand of democracy all around the world, and kill you if you chose to reject it.  And others wanted us to stay home, ignore the rest of the world, and spend the money building homes for Black people (in exchange for their votes).

And remember, back in those days there was no Internet.  Nor any cell phones.  There was a daily newspaper, but that was about it.  So what did we do?  We sure as Hell didn't watch TV!  We went cruising up and down the 4-Lane, flashing our lights back and forth when friends passed.  And then we'd turn around at the end of town and head back in the other direction.  Flashing our lights at all our friends when we passed once again.  And Heaven help you if you failed to flash those lights.  You'd be chastised!  

And BTW, the day I got my drivers' license was the happiest day of my life.  It meant FREEDOM!  It meant I could go anywhere I wanted for the first time in my life!  With no parent looking over my shoulder!  And to think, Tesla is charging $15,000 for their "Supercruise" option, which lets you play with yourself instead of enjoying the absolute, God-given freedom of driving yourself.  They are idiots.  Sorry, the truth hurts.  So driving yourself around is the second-best thing that can happen to you.  And it can help you "score" the first.

Such is life in Small Town America.

And then every now and then we'd pull into the Dairy Queen, back into a space, open up our hoods to show off our chromed-up motors, and bullsh*t all night with our friends.  Getting some of those tasty barrel fries and a cherry Coke every now and again.  As I recall, the fries were $0.15 cents and the Cokes were a $Dime.  And maybe even a few brewskies one of our older friends had bought for us.  And then doing a major-league burnout as we left the "Queen" on our way to some more cruising. 

Is this a scene out of "Happy Days," or what?

Or sometimes we might go to the roller rink.  Skating around and around, trying to pick up babes.  And maybe we'd go to the America Legion Hall when the "Krazy Kats" were playing.  Trying to pick up babes.  Or down to the bowling alley.  To bowl a few games, or play some pool (my special talent).  And look out for babes.  I remember it was bone-chilling cold in there on a hot summer's eve.  

Or maybe go to a movie, especially if it was a prelude to heading out to the country for some parking.  As in, "wink wink," PARKING!  Where we'd try and put into action what we'd just read in Playboy.  Or head on over to the Rumpus Room for some pinball action and maybe a dance or two.  

While trying to pick up babes.  

Oh yeah, and every now and then we'd get a challenge from one of our hot rod buddies from another of our hot rod buddies to go out to Bear Lake Bottoms, to Old Highway 36, and drag race!  And then everyone would hop in their cars and caravan out to the "track."  That was the clue for the D.Q. to shut down for the night.

We had pooled our meager cash and bought a couple of walkie-talkies.  So we'd place a volunteer at each end of the Old Highway so we could race all night unless the Fuzz caught wind.  And if they did the walkie guy would yell a warning and we'd run like bandits!  It was coooool!  Never did any of us get snagged by John Law for all our indiscretions.  Never!

It was exactly what growing up ought to be.

BTW, our local fuzz Highway Patrol guy was named Dick DeFreece.  He and I got to know each other quite well during this period.  Mainly because he wanted me to obey the traffic laws, and I found them, well, shall we say constraining.  And also for the times I outran him.  He told me on one occasion he didn't need to see my drivers' license.  That's because he had my D.L. number memorized.     

I had a good friend, Dick Sacarro, who worked in a printing plant.  I asked him to print up some bumper stickers to announce our little hobby to the world.  I called it the "Bear Lake Bottoms Timing Association."  Except I shortened that up to the "B.L.B.T.A."  The cops always wondered what that meant.  I told one of them it stood for, "Better Leave Betty's Tits Alone."

Now think about this:  Isn't that sort of existence far superior than every kid across the Nation sticking his/her/its nose in a cell phone or a computer all night long?  

And in closing I would offer that much of our angst and anger toward those who don't share our Tribal beliefs,  whatever they may happen to be, is fomented by our collective Media.  The "Alphabet" broadcast channels, and the bevy of cable choices.  They do their best to divide us.  Into separate groups.  And then try and sell that slice of our electorate to their advertisers.  

They are not our friends.

Please, Fellow Patriots, stop watching the news and start developing personal relationships.  You can't change what's happening and it will only give you heartburn.  Start hiking and camping.  Build model airplanes.  Go back to school.  Join a club.  Learn Chinese (you might need it).  Volunteer at your local soup kitchen.  Take up a hobby.  Start drag racing!  You just might find some babes!  

And who knows, you might even like it!