A sure sign that I am getting old is the fact that, in the morning, I now prefer talk radio to music. While I’d like to believe that this newly developed preference is simply because I want to stay abreast of what’s going on in the world around me, I have also come to the sad realization that a key element factoring in to my decision is people like Jason Derulo are able to have studio sessions where, based on the finished product, I can only assume they have an overly tired big rig truck driver repetitiously back up over their foot just as they open their mouths and make noises. This is then recorded and advertised to the world as music and for reasons unknown to me, is absolutely eaten up by the general public.
Morning radio also oftentimes has an entertainment
segment to keep us up to date on the most current struggles and hardships that
have befallen the poor dear celebrities of today. For example, I recently heard
a story that while on a hike, Taylor Swift had to walk down a mountain
backwards in an effort to avoid getting her picture taken with some giddy passerby.
Forget ticket sales, I think the new measuring stick for whether you’ve “made
it” or not is that your perspective of leisure activities is forcibly and
totally altered. I love writing, but speaking as someone who was born without
and will never have depth perception a day in his life, if my writing ever hit
Nicholas Sparks status and I had to start walking down mountains backwards, I’m
out!
One particular morning, conversation on the radio
centered on the history and recent eradication of was once known as the
corporate lunch hour. This was the name given to a sixty minute period of time
in which coworkers would assist each other in jimmying off their ankle
bracelets, leave their places of employment and venture out to see the sights,
sounds and general sense of spaciousness that the outside world had to offer. A
group would head over to their favorite eatery making small talk with the very
person they had been badmouthing to someone in the break room over by the
coffeemaker not five minutes prior. However, in todays’ productivity driven
world, this sacred time has metamorphosed itself into what is now a twelve second
window of opportunity in which employees are encouraged to back away from their
computers and ingest a corporate supplied pipette full of krill that has been
pre-chewed by a penguin and then return to work.
One huge exception in my partiality to talk radio over
music: David Allen Boucher on Bedtime Magic. If you haven’t taken the proper
precautions by either A.) Sleeping for 20 hours beforehand to ensure that you
are well rested or B.) Drinking twelve Red Bulls, nine Rockstar energy drinks
and three cans of amp, I promise you that the smooth sexiness that results from
David Allen Boucher vibrating his vocal chords, you will be absolutely soothed
out of your mind and put to sleep quicker than a UFC fighter in a guillotine
choke as your vehicle goes careening into a guardrail. And just to be clear,
this isn’t meant to be anti-Magic 106.7 as much as it is pro-you staying alive.
Because you have now been informed of this, if it were to occur, it would be
entirely on your shoulders (and neck and back and possibly dashboard) as
someone who knew the facts but went ahead and did what they wanted anyway. You
know what that means? It means Barry Feinstein can’t help you because he only
helps people who are injured through no fault of their own. If there’s one
thing I’ve learned during my 22 years on this green land havin’, blue water
flowin’ and Arianna Grande inhabited land mass of ours it is this, if a man who
concludes his commercials with a Mr. Clean style folded arms pose and a stern
look which simultaneously conveys “Don’t worry, I gotchu” and “Don’t EVER mess
with me!” can’t do anything to help you, you’re screwed…….What were we talking
about again……
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