EP on The Bill Meyer Show

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This is the audio from Thursday’s appearance on the Bill Meyer Show in Oregon:


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  1. “The program, in sum, not only builds physical fitness, but good Americans.” That’s how Look magazine summarized the physical education program of La Sierra High School in January 1962. This gym class got a major spread in a national publication—as well as an endorsement from President John F. Kennedy—take a look.

    That’s a bunch of teenagers looking like they could rip a phone book in half. The PE curriculum at La Sierra in Carmichael, California was not so much famous as it was notorious: It frequently asked more of the students than of prospects entering the Naval Academy.


    Calisthenics (push-ups, pull-ups, suspended sit-ups) were done on a circuit during both a 12-minute warm up and 5 minutes of punishing, high-intensity exercise through an obstacle course. Coach Stan LeProtti, who initiated the program in 1957, even had custom equipment like peg boards and monkey bars built.


    “Kids today are not built like that,” Doug Orchard, a filmmaker working on a documentary about LeProtti’s efforts, tells mental_floss. “It was the last great physical education program in the country.”

    Students moved through the program based on a color scale: white shorts were for rookies, while red, blue, purple, and gold signaled serious ability. White shorts had to do a minimum of six pull-ups.


    Today, a Marine can pass a physical doing only three. Most boys, Orchard says, got to at least red. Getting to blue was a big deal; gold athletes were “crazy impressive.” Those who wanted a rare Navy Blue rank had to do 34 pull-ups and carry someone on their back for five miles. Only 19 students in the history of the school ever earned one.

    “There were no injuries we’ve found,” Orchard says. “If you got the flu and were out a month, you had to re-test. The intensity and volume were crazy, but there was a progression. Their entire freshman year, they spent a long time just learning how to breathe correctly.”

    The media attention surrounding La Sierra was so intense that by 1962, a health-conscious President Kennedy made an open plea for other schools to get involved, and more than 4000 signed up for the program, which eventually grew to include females. America’s youth may have been at its fittest—until the 1960s began to chip away at their resolve.

    “There was a lot of resistance when Vietnam lagged on,” Orchard says. “People started showing up not dressed for PE as a form of protest.” By the time La Sierra closed its doors in 1983, LeProtti’s efforts had been mostly forgotten.

    But a few years ago, clothing chain Abercrombie & Fitch phoned Ron Jones, a physical fitness historian, to ask about the workout footage he had uploaded.

    It went viral. Now Jones and Orchard are hoping their film—due out in summer 2016—will help both lawmakers and educators to re-assess activity programs across the country. Currently, less than half of all high school students hit the gym for any reason, let alone exhibit the physical feats the kids of La Sierra were able to pull off.

    “We have a shot of bringing back real physical education,” Orchard says. “These kids were doing things I’ve never seen anyone else do.”

  2. Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption

    There’s a guy like me in every state and federal prison in America, I guess–I’m the guy who can get it for you. Tailor made cigarettes, a bag of reefer if you’re partial to that, a bottle of brandy to celebrate your son or daughter’s high
    school graduation, or anything else within reason, that is. It wasn’t always that way.

    I came to Shawshank when I was just twenty, and I am one of the few people in our happy little family willing to own up to what he did. I committed murder. I put a large insurance policy on my wife — who was three years older than I was —
    and then I fixed the brakes on the Chevrolet coupe her father had given us as a wedding present. It worked out exactly as I had planned — except I hadn’t planned on her stopping to pick up the neighbor woman and the neighbor woman’s infant son
    on their way down Castle Hill and into town. The brakes let go and the car crashed through the bushes at the edge of the town common, gathering speed.

    Bystanders said it must have been doing fifty or better when it hit the base of the Civil War statue and burst into flames.
    I also hadn’t planned on getting caught, but caught I was. I got a season’s pass into this place. Maine has no death-penalty, but the District Attorney saw to it that I was tried for all three deaths and given three life sentences, to run one after the other. That fixed up any chance of parole I might have for a long, long time. The judge called what I had done “a hideous, heinous crime,” and it was; but it is also in the past now. You can look it up in the yellowing files of the Castle Rock Call, where the big headlines announcing my conviction look
    sort of funny and antique next to the news of Hitler and Mussolini and FDR’s alphabet soup agencies.

    Have I rehabilitated myself, you ask? I don’t even know what that word means, at least as far as prisons and corrections go. I think it’s a politician’s word. It may have some other meaning, and it may be that I will have a chance to find out, but that is the future – something cons teach themselves not to think
    about. I was young, good-looking, and from the poor side of town. I knocked up a pretty, sulky, headstrong girl who lived in one of the fine old houses on Carbine Street. Her father was agreeable to the marriage if I would take a job in the optical company he owned and “work my way up.” I found out that what he really had in mind was keeping me in his house and under his thumb, like a disagreeable pet that has not quite been housebroken and which may bite. Enough hate eventually piled up to cause me to do what I did. Given a second chance, I would not do it again, but I’m not sure that means I am rehabilitated.

    Anyway, it’s not me I want to tell you about; I want to tell you about a guy named Andy Dufresne. But before I can tell you about Andy, I have to explain a few other things about myself. It won’t take long.

    As I said, I’ve been the guy who can get it for you here at Shawshank for damn near forty years. And that doesn’t just mean contraband items like extra 2 cigarettes or booze, although those items always top the list. But I’ve gotten
    thousands of other items for men doing time here, some of them perfectly legal yet hard to come by in a place where you’ve supposedly been brought to be punished.

    There was one fellow who was in for raping a little girl and exposing himself to dozens of others; I got him three pieces of pink Vermont marble and he did three lovely sculptures out of them – a baby, a boy of about twelve, and a bearded young man. He called them The Three Ages of Jesus, and those pieces of sculpture are now in the parlor of a man who used to be governor of this state.

    Or here’s a name you may remember if you grew up north of Massachusetts-Robert Alan Cote. In 1951 he tried to rob the First Mercantile Bank of Mechanic Falls, and the holdup turned into a bloodbath – six dead in the end, two of them members of the gang, three of them hostages, one of them a young state cop who put his head up at the wrong time and got a bullet in the eye. Cote had a penny collection.

    Naturally they weren’t going to let him have it in here, but with a little help from his mother and a middleman who used to drive a laundry truck, I was able to get it for him. I told him, Bobby, you must be crazy, wanting to have a coin collection in a stone hotel full of thieves. He looked at me and smiled and said, I know where to keep them. They’ll be safe enough. Don’t you worry. And he was right. Bobby Cote died of a brain tumor in 1967, but that coin collection has never turned up.


  3. Welcome, PDX Oregon Libertarians!

    I guess Ron Paul did about as much as a man can do, when one just acts as himself and puts it all on the line.

    Of course I respect him and will never forget all the earnest 18 to 21 year olds passionately trying to explain to every other American chucklehead just what was so great about him, and why the should vote for him.

    But I’m even more excited and intrigued by what anarchic anonymity and true free speech might eventually accomplish. And what fun and liberating it is for people who are able to expand their minds and let being outside the matrix take its place in their button down sales prospected and 100 year planned lives.

    For example, these are the current googuhl reviews for a brothel 45 minutes from here:
    – – –
    (Of course this is serious bizness, and I wish all parties all the best of luck in such an endangered and fishbowled agora.)
    – – –
    But I had to laugh at the mostly collectivist snarky clovers who commented here. See how I used clovers favorite phrase?

    Jokes are decent. And this is the true “religion” and “morality” of your fellow Americans in the heimat. Childish, reality oblivious, debilitating and alienating Gleichschaltung, ready to dutifully throw any stranger under a thousand buses of faux indignation for having an audacity to freely provide and procure a wanted service at a negotiated price and agreed upon satisfactory term.
    – – –

    Chicken Ranch
    10511 Homestead Rd, Pahrump, NV

    3.6 out of 5.0 possible stars
    16 reviews
    Sort by: Most helpful

    D B
    4 months ago
    This place is awful. We was hungry and told the lady we wanted us a bucket and she acted like we was really making her mad. I told her it don’t make me no nevermind if we have a mix of light and dark meat and so she comes around with these two employees…a black girl and a white girl. They didn’t even have chicken or any kinds of sides or anything. My wife started hollerin about the service and we was asked to leave. I ain’t never going back here no way. Hell, I didn’t even smell chicken…smelled more like a seafood joint to me. Man I’d say take your hard earned cash to the colonel – he never lets me down.

    bill g
    7 months ago
    I took my family here to see how chickens were raised . but…..that’s not what goes on here. I didn’t see a single chicken. just pretty girls who weren’t interested in the history of chicken farming. even my funniest chicken farming story were not well received by the employees. I told the story about how my cousin Bobby tried to catch a chicken but couldn’t . hilarious stuff. Bobby kept running after that chicken but the chicken ran faster. side splitter!!!! . the employees finally asked us to leave. I think is was bc I took pictures of some of the customers and kept asking if their wives wanted a copy of them at the ranch . just trying to be neighborly. also I don’t have a family per se. I brought a bunch of homeless people I met on the way. sure most of them tried to stab me or steal my car. but they r precious to me. overall I don’t recommend this place but I now know what a creme frappe is.

    Tally Travel
    a month ago
    Beautiful Ladies , Very clean atmosphere . Feel very comfortable here. .

    Steven geist
    a month ago
    What a joke. There were only 4 girls available, and i could get better for the price of a few drinks at the clubs. Don’t waste your time.

    Lewis Williams
    a year ago
    If you are not there to get a woman, they have no use for you, the bartender is at a point where she hates her job. Sometimes people check out a place first, but don’t do that there.

    Carl Williams
    a year ago

    Pankaj Kanti
    a year ago
    Mind blowing

    Jason Harkness
    a year ago
    I love this place..my wife not so much

    Jose Carmona
    a year ago
    The sex is so good

    md. ali ahammad
    2 years ago
    Not so bad really.

    A Google User
    4 years ago
    A Nevada Landmark and unofficial cultural heritage site. Check online for the two for one coupons…They are rarely available

    Mohammed Alkhalid
    2 months ago

    Can’t Tell u
    4 months ago

    Dick Smallsty
    9 months ago

    Googuhl archive link on the right==>

    Yelp Reviews Chicken Ranch. [YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE AGORA!]

    Matt D.
    Portland, OR
    15 reviews
    5.0 star rating 12/30/2014

    I have brought more than a handful of clients/friends to The Chicken Ranch.

    There is nothing negative nor paranoid about this place, you simply have to understand the “zen” (so to speak) of a brothel.

    The buzzing-in and out is simply a security measure to manage the rare drunk unruly visitor, though I have never seen anyone drunk nor misbehaving here.

    But the security gate would discourage someone who is there not for fun.

    I go for the fun and the entertainment. And I bring my friends/clients who would otherwise never go there without me encouraging/driving them. I’m always the sober driver.

    Talking to these girls is a trip. They are friendly, intelligent and well-spoken. (The ones that I have encountered.) They have interesting lives and stories.

    Unlike a strip club in Vegas or Portland, these girls will pole dance AND have sex with you if you’re nice, fun, clean and treat them with respect. They’re really cool people. If you’re unenlightened and just think they’re hookers, you’re opinionated and uninformed, and they wouldn’t have sex with you if you paid them. (most wouldn’t, it’s kind of like dating, except more honest.)

    It’s not what you might think. It is a friendly, low-key atmosphere. The customers in the bar are typically wealthy, intelligent and classy gentlemen.

    It’s fun to go there just to experience it. Take some cash, though. These girls do have to make a living and share the cash with the house. So even tipping a $50 for a fun conversation is a nice gift.

    I recommend The Chicken Ranch and it’s fun friendly relaxed atmosphere.

    Take at least $300 if you’d like more than just a friendly conversation.


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