hi, there.  tony campagnolo here.  oh, jack told you that “kim west” would be posting here?  inside joke: “kim west” is what we call my “nom de plume,” which is french for “name the feather” which comes from when you first enter show business, and you’re scared like a chicken, and they call you the first name that comes out of your mouth. 

well, it’s been an interesting year, and it’s only just june.  i was just riding along on my bike, minding my own business, and SPLAT i’m [1] helping to open  bike kollective, [2] chasing down bikes all over kingdom come, [3] NOT racing two or three times a week, [4] getting paid to be a race announcer, and [5] i’m on the radio!!

that was some concussion, i’m telling you.  oh, and [6] i’m blogging like i know what i’m doing!  nonsense.  it’s gotta be.  but it sure has been a good time.  i’ve learned a lot about the radio business [i'm already at 1 or 2, on a scale of 100], and it seems to be enough to let me get by until i learn more, and i’m finding that–just as i’ve been saying all along–folks will talk to me, and it turns out to be interesting. 

what i find most intriguing, however, is that i’m getting to know a lot of people who have never known me before–but in a completely different way.  most people, i meet face-to-face.  they know my face, they know my voice.  however, over the past few years, i’ve gotten a bit of notoriety from my blog, “today’s sermonette.”  from there, people will suspect that i am a silly, often irreverent and ocassionally quite irritating stubborn old coot.  some also know that i heckle and taunt people while dressed in a red cape [or some variation thereof] and horns. 

but they don’t know my voice, or what i REALLY look like, with all the crazy garb removed, and not using my devil voice.  but YOU folks–the people who read this dmcc blog–you’ll get the chance [perhaps the first in central iowa] to get a look at the real me:  the tony campagnolo who just comes home, puts on his silk smoking jacket, lights his pipe, and enjoys a glass of single malt scotch [over ice--cubed, not crushed] in the company of my three elegant russian wolfhound-mix dogs.

 who loves ya? and do they love ya like i love my scotch?

it’s a quiet life, but it’s just what i need to unwind after a hectic day of pressing the flesh and flashing the pearly whites.  oh well, enough true confessions; my ice cubes are nearly perfect.  ahhhh…

call me up on sunday, will ya?  515.284.5966.  tell me tony sent ya!  it’ll just be our joke!

–tony