The Guy on Camera Three.

I was walking to Kulak's last night when I ran into a very attractive young lady who was walking a big-pawed black puppy. I don't know what etiquette is in these situations, but I leaned over to hold my hand down for the dog's nose, and the lady said, "She's a jumper."

I told her I didn't mind one bit. I also told her that her puppy and she would be welcome down at Kulak's Woodshed.

She hadn't heard of it, but liked the idea of a place like that, that isn't a bar or a nightclub.

I also told her there was no admission fee. She asked what my involvement was. So I told her:

I'm the guy on camera three.

I like being the guy on camera three.

I only have one job. Point the camera and try stand for two solid hours. (Regular readers know I volunteer down at Kulak's, partly, as part of my program of physical therapy.)

I'm wearing headphones, so everyone treats me like I'm an authority figure. I could be the pilot of a star ship for all the wonder in their eyes when someone wearing headphones tells them to move their feet or don't watch the monitors too much.

And now that I'm one of the singer/songwriter on-air hosts, I really feel like a bigshot. Maybe the Superman of North Hollywood.

But, really, I'm just the guy on camera three.