The following artwork was done by Asylum members T_mAN and me:

The following artwork was done by Asylum member Mokkori:

Mordecai

Morgasm

Tack

Lightbulb

The following artwork was done by Asylum member Cornelius:

The following artwork was done by Asylum member Roshigoth:

Vyper

The following artwork was done by Asylum members T_mAN and me:

The following artwork was done by me:

To be continued...

Paul Aurandt was born in Tulsa, Oklahoma on September 4, 1918. As a child he enjoyed the hobby of building radio sets and in 1933, while in high school, he frequented KVOO radio until the station manager finally hired him. There he helped clean up and eventually was allowed to fill in on the air, reading commercials and news.

After graduating from high school Paul attended the University of Tulsa. He continued working at KVOO as an announcer, and later as a program director. Paul spent three years as a station manager for a local station in Salina, Kansas. From there, he moved to a news casting job at KOMA-AM in Oklahoma City, then moved on to KXOK-AM, in St. Louis, where he was Director of Special Events as well as working as a roving reporter.

While at KXOK-AM, Paul met the girl who would be the love of his life. Lynne Cooper had come to the station for a school news program when he invited her to dinner and proposed to her that very evening. From that day forward Paul would refer to Lynne as ‘Angel’.

In 1940, Paul and Lynne moved to Hawaii so he could cover the U.S. Navy as it concentrated its fleet in the Pacific. He was returning to the United States from assignment in Hawaii when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. Harvey then enlisted in the Army Air Corps, where he served until 1944.

After leaving military service, Paul and ‘Angel’ moved to Chicago, the mecca of all national broadcast activity at the time, where in June 1944, he began broadcasting from the ABC affiliate WENR-AM. There Paul and ‘Angel’ decided to combine their talents in a news career. Lynne was an A.B. and M.A. graduate of Washington University and had been elected to four national honorary societies including PHI BETA KAPPA.

Olian Advertising Agency bought the 10:00 p.m., time-slot, replacing a network big-band program, to offer a unique news program hosted by Paul. At the same time his wife Lynne was signed as producer and general manager. Within the year Paul’s show became the top-rated program. In 1968 Lynne produced a very popular television series hosted by her husband which ran uninterruptedly for twenty years in national syndication. His popular syndicated radio show still has a huge and loyal audience.

To this day Paul’s voice is probably the most recognized one on the radio dial. His brisk, quirky delivery and signature greeting, "Hello, Americans!” are familiar to millions; for Paul Aurandt, Paul Harvey Aurandt, has won their hearts.
And now…you know the rest of the story.

My wife has been traveling on business a lot lately, which has left us only weekends to be together. It sucks, but is the business we have chosen. At any rate, we like to make the best of the time we have together by getting out and doing things; often very ‘spur of the moment’ kinds of stuff. It is usually turns out to be either fun or delicious whatever it is.

At any rate, we went driving around today, running some errands and looking for the ‘something’ we might find to mark this weekend together, and stumbled upon a “New Age Fair” that was being held in our town. We were both ambivalent about going; my wife concerned about traipsing around in the heat (she is more into the “new age” stuff than me, but it was about 90 F and humid), and me because I knew it was gonna be a freak show. In the end we said, ‘What the hell?’ and went anyway. It would be something new and fun, right; being a ‘New Age Fair’ and all?

It is rather amazing how wrong one can be when caught up in the heat of the moment. While I knew very well the circle of hell that I had agreed to enter, I was stunned by the accuracy with which I had envisioned such pathetic gatherings. When, at the annoyed jabbing of my wife, I had stopped laughing at the guy playing the obligatory bongos we began ambling among the booths, which, the ‘old age’ use to call a sideshow. There was some woman, who looked like she might have met someone who saw a picture of an American Indian once. She was swatting some rube with a large feather to heal him of some ill, turning away between applications of the feather now and then to spit (literally) whatever demons she was casting out. It was at this point that I knew I had to get the hell out of there, and for the first time in my life began praying for it to get more hot and humid. Then the “band” began to warm up, or play, who knew?

I adore my wife, so I plodded on wondering what the point of this fair was since the fare at each booth was ostensibly the same in both inventory and tangible value. Stones! There were stones everywhere. Some polished, some not; some shaped or carved, and each boasting some power according to the frea… people manning the booths. When my wife, who was more interested in the jewelry potential of any of the stones, asked the pseudo-gypsy woman at one concession what a particular rock was, the vender told her and pointed to her own bracelet that held the ‘gem’ and went on to explain its massive power. I can only suspect that my left eye was twitching at that point because my beloved quickly thanked the witch and we moved along. It was then that the “band” announced that the next piece would be played in C minor. Since the performance had been C- to that point I was not surprised. I had also determined that the bongo player needed to die.

We both wearied of this excursion into the discovery of people that had discovered something old and thought it was new and so we headed back to the car. My wife commented on how many of the displays offered the same junk and that most of them were stones. Me, I was thinking that anyone who worships rocks or attributes to them some power doesn’t belong in the New Age, but the Stone Age.