Posted by: Dale Franks on Tuesday, January 24, 2006 Back from 1988 to 1991, except for a few periods when military duties called me away to other tasks during that time, I worked at the Canadian Forces Network Brunssum, (CFNB) as a broadcaster. The station was located at the Headquarters, Allied Forces Central Europe (AFCENT), which has since been renamed AFNORTH. Anyway, while I was there, I worked with a USAF Tech Sergeant who also moonlighted as a CFNB broadcaster. His name was Dennis W. Green, and he was stationed just over the border at the NATO AWACS base in Geilenkirchen, Germany, where he ran the full-motion aircraft simulator shop. (The NATO AWACS program was managed, as it happened, in a building located at AFCENT) Dennis and I were broadcast poison, at least as far as the CFN Broadcast Standards went. Every time we both got near a microphone together, things quickly spun out of control. For some reason, Dennis and I fed on each other, and within minutes, we were in a broadcasting domain that even Howard Stern would blanch at entering. The station manager, Paul "Ramm" LeClerc, stepped in with an unbreakable directive that Dennis Green and I were never to be allowed near an open microphone together for any reason. Even pre-recorded advertisements and Public Service Announcements that featured both Dennis and me had to be carefully screened. After 1991, unfortunately, I lost touch with Dennis. I'd really like to find him again. I know this is a long shot, but if there's anyone who knows Dennis Green, or anyone who is Dennis Green that reads the blog, I'd really love to get back in contact with him. And I still maintain that, if Dennis and I were to get together, 15 years later, and do a radio show, we'd put together a show that would kick Anthony and Opie's ass. By the way, here's a funny—and true—story about Dennis. In Europe, at the time, everyone had to bank with American Express, because they had the contract to supply banking services for US Military members stationed overseas. As happens occasionally, Dennis ran out of checks, and had to order a new batch. Soon after the new checks arrived, Dennis put them in his checkbook, and went to the Commissary. Since AFCENT and the NATO AWACS base were not American installations, the Commissary conveniently located 40 minutes away, in Schinnen. So, Dennis goes in, buys his groceries, and when the bill is added up, he presents the checkout lady with one of his shiny new Amex checks. She takes one look at the check, looks at Dennis, and says, "This can't possibly be your name." Dennis shoots back, "Of course that's my name!" She says, "No, it can't be." Dennis, getting a bit miffed at this point, says, "What do you mean it can't be my name!? These are my checks, so it's my name!" "Oh, really?" she asks. Then she shows Dennis the check. Sure enough, it wasn't his name. Dennis had, in fact, just received 500 new checks from Amex, each of which was boldly inscribed with the name: Penis W. Green I don't care what the people at Amex said. That wasn't a mistake.Anyway, Dennis, if you're out there, I'd love to get in touch with you. |
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