Thursday, July 12, 2007
I figured out why adults listen to talk radio!
Talk radio, as a kid, I wondered why old people listened to it. Conservative ramblings were especially difficult for my young mind to grasp, it didn’t matter what a politician promised to do about the economy, my parents still beat me and the priests still threatened to kill me if I talked about Sunday school. The hosts never covered the topics that mattered to me: green nose rockets, ninja, talking cats, or Catlain.
As time became another crime statistic and was thrown into the ocean like any other dead whore, I gained power over the radio dial and suddenly I understood why people listen to talk radio. Every music station on the radio sucks a random play list’s reproductive organ. I can listen to 10 minutes of any station and assuming a song actually plays, 99% of the time, I’ve already heard it. Country, rap, rock, jazz, it doesn’t matter. All the stations play the same thing from their genre, it’s sickening. Even worse, I’ve come to hate every one of these genres and yet, they still find a way to find me. Through showroom speakers, advertising, or douchebags who ensure everyone within several blocks can hear a song because their stereo system is destroying their hearing, I can’t escape this mainstream garbage. It’s enough to force me into the polluted, rapidly disappearing forests to escape it all.
Apparently, talk radio can’t get away with this. We have to listen to the same freakin’ story from our friends a million times. No way are we going to endure the same mindless filler willingly on the way to martial arts practice or work. And that’s all the radio is, something to occupy our minds as we do something tedious so we don’t have to meditate and face the horrible realities of our lives. Silence is a horrible nightmare of memories assaulting our consciousness.
Perhaps the oddest thing about talk radio is the host. Public radio seems to cover a wide range of topics, usually expanded on by experts and then by the emotionally uncontrolled callers. Sometimes the caller is some timid female who keeps checking herself as to not offend the expert and other times it’s just some moron with a stick so far up his bum that it touches his brain and causes anything closely related to the issue to drive him into a mild rage. Music stations don’t have hosts; they have “DJs. A DJ doesn’t seem to have any skills at all. They don’t even have a personality, it’s creepy. All they talk about are ads, parties, sex, drugs, and mainstream music. Often cheesy soundboards find their way into the show, which just serve to insure more repetitive sounds make it on the air. I’m not sure what a DJ even does in the studio, couldn’t they be replaced by robots with deep pleasing voices? Maybe a Morgan Freeman clone. Still, people find a reason to listen, so a market must be there for it.
Later.
As time became another crime statistic and was thrown into the ocean like any other dead whore, I gained power over the radio dial and suddenly I understood why people listen to talk radio. Every music station on the radio sucks a random play list’s reproductive organ. I can listen to 10 minutes of any station and assuming a song actually plays, 99% of the time, I’ve already heard it. Country, rap, rock, jazz, it doesn’t matter. All the stations play the same thing from their genre, it’s sickening. Even worse, I’ve come to hate every one of these genres and yet, they still find a way to find me. Through showroom speakers, advertising, or douchebags who ensure everyone within several blocks can hear a song because their stereo system is destroying their hearing, I can’t escape this mainstream garbage. It’s enough to force me into the polluted, rapidly disappearing forests to escape it all.
Apparently, talk radio can’t get away with this. We have to listen to the same freakin’ story from our friends a million times. No way are we going to endure the same mindless filler willingly on the way to martial arts practice or work. And that’s all the radio is, something to occupy our minds as we do something tedious so we don’t have to meditate and face the horrible realities of our lives. Silence is a horrible nightmare of memories assaulting our consciousness.
Perhaps the oddest thing about talk radio is the host. Public radio seems to cover a wide range of topics, usually expanded on by experts and then by the emotionally uncontrolled callers. Sometimes the caller is some timid female who keeps checking herself as to not offend the expert and other times it’s just some moron with a stick so far up his bum that it touches his brain and causes anything closely related to the issue to drive him into a mild rage. Music stations don’t have hosts; they have “DJs. A DJ doesn’t seem to have any skills at all. They don’t even have a personality, it’s creepy. All they talk about are ads, parties, sex, drugs, and mainstream music. Often cheesy soundboards find their way into the show, which just serve to insure more repetitive sounds make it on the air. I’m not sure what a DJ even does in the studio, couldn’t they be replaced by robots with deep pleasing voices? Maybe a Morgan Freeman clone. Still, people find a reason to listen, so a market must be there for it.
Later.
Labels: DJ, mainstream, music, public radio, radio, radio hosts, talk radio
# posted by MaximumTacolord @ 11:57 PM 
