Long story, but I currently have satellite radio in my car– something I thought I’d never enjoy and didn’t really see the point of. One station, dedicated to one thing, all the time? Boring.
I stand corrected, at least in my case, and stand before you an E Street Radio addict. It’s surprisingly mentally healthy to get in the car and know– with 100% certainty– that whatever is playing is something you will like, it will be commercial-free, and that, if there’s commentary, it’s going to be people who are foaming-at-the-mouth enthusiastic and not afraid to hide that behind jaded coolness.
In the short time I’ve had this, Bruce Springsteen has considerably improved my day on quite a few occasions (no, I’m not embarrassed to say that). I was making a longish drive home yesterday– on a road I hate (bad directions, GPS)– and the low tire light flashed on. My own gauge is dead, and there wasn’t a tire place to be seen, so I was just trying to make it home and hoping for the best: then a cover of “Stayin’ Alive” came on. Thank you, radio tarot!
This was playing as I entered the city that’s not actually my hometown but is sort of close to it. And yes, I know that the lyrics don’t match the title, but you can’t tell me that KARMA/GOD/BRUCE WASN’T SENDING ME A MESSAGE.
I have radio on the mind at the moment; music in general often is, but it’s specifically radio at the moment. #1 is that I was particularly grateful for satellite radio yesterday. #2 is that, as of 3:38 AM last night (morning?), I was lying completely under the covers, wearing cans and listening to one of my multi-multi-hour playlists, thanks to the roller derby/mud wrestling/whatever upstairs. If, from #2, you deduced I was pretty awake at the time, you are correct; that’s when I started thinking about satellite radio stations that could theoretically exist for extreme niche audiences.
And yes, I realize the Hedy Lamarr image really isn’t technically correct for satellite radio, but I’m just going with radio communications in general.
Here’s the segue: early AM insomnia-meets-noisy-neighbor ideas!
(disclaimer: I could have sworn I jotted some of these down, but the only list I see begins “peppers, shredded cheese,” so I’m not sure what’s going on with that)
I Have an Opinion about the Internet
Okay. Never read below the line, right? Maybe we could put this on a call-in show an delete the comments section from news articles (etc.) entirely. Wouldn’t that improve your internet experience? I’m thinking this one could be isolated somewhere in the high, high numbers. Maybe an opt-in.
This is the first article that appeared in my Facebook feed at this moment. I’ve deleted the candidate’s name, because it could really apply to any potential nominee (and has probably been said about all of them): “[person]’s is spoon fed by Wallstreet criminals.” It’s not clear what that candidate’s what is being spoon fed by, in case you think I’ve taken away too much context.
(see also: Moff’s Law, for how to handle this better– but why it usually doesn’t work.)
Lather, rinse, repeat about . . . anything.
Stolen from the internet at some point, but it really says all that needs to be said.
Does anyone besides my next-door neighbor have a television with cable? And, as far as I can tell through the wall, he watches mainly wrestling and SNL reruns– no network dramas.
Because everyone is waiting for an entire season of X to hit Netflix, the entire internet population (including me) starts screaming “no spoilers!” as soon as it does. The result is that people who have finished a season of X are dying to talk about the finale of whatever it was but aren’t clear when it’s acceptable to do so.
So: spoiler radio. Maybe an hour of programming devoted to each show? Callers must have finished viewing the entire episode/season. Fandom can speak freely about whatever the pressing issue without fear of ruining it for anyone.
N.B.: I’ve already seen all of Orphan Black, season 3, which isn’t on Netflix yet. TALK TO ME.
*keeps mouth shut, with difficulty, which is obviously very, very hard*
“This One Time”
Do you have a really good random story that is pretty much impossible to work into conversation? But you really want to tell it? There’s a radio station for that.
Forget disrupting conversational flow, because this station doesn’t have it. Just call and plunge right in: “This one time, see, we had all this red Kool-Aid mixed up– okay, that’s another story– but anyway . . . .”
And then you can return from the patio, smile politely at your host, and get back to discussing work politics. Or whatever civilized people do. I really don’t know, myself. I’d go ahead and tell the Kool-Aid story, which is why I need this station.
Shockingly, sometime after I took this picture in Target, these PJs found their way to me.
Unpopular Opinion Channel
Oh, yeah, this was one I thought of last night. Remembered it right now because I have headphones in (again, same reason; it’s either Stomp or Riverdance right now), and I’m listening to one of my favorite Queen songs: “I Was Born to Love You.”
There is no shame here. Clearly.
Anyway, the Unpopular Opinion station is where you can call in and anonymously admit that you like whatever is going to get you called out on the internet/Twitter/social media. Or you can just say on the forum of your choosing (in a non-abrasive way) that you like whatever it is and let people deal.
Perth Amboy Station
I’ve mentioned how I use Perth Amboy repeatedly: it’s a stopgap term for whatever I’m trying to come up with, can’t remember, but will definitely remember at 3 AM. Whatever it is, it’s something that’s missing too many variables to Google.
So, for a good night’s sleep, call the Perth Amboy station and ramble about how you read this novel where someone loses a Phi Beta Kappa pin, and it may have been his father’s, but you’re not sure, and you’re pretty sure it’s 20th century and Southern.* Callers who have the same syndrome call in and offer the assistance that Google can’t.
*Seriously, I’m really pretty sure I read this, but I can’t figure it out.
My headphones are now doing that fried-wire thing they do when you’ve mangled them from overuse. I’m sending the bill upstairs.
Another true story of being out of touch: I’m using earbuds right now (the ones that seem to be fried and are currently distorting Chuck Berry), but, last year, I thought maybe I could replace them with another set of the big ones, which are so old I don’t even remember where they came from. I kept hearing about Beats, so I finally looked them up: if they’re so nice, they must cost about $20, right?
No. Not right at all. Did not replace.
I’m to Chicken to Put This on Craigslist
Okay, last one. This one is clearly pretty personal, and I’m just going to leave it here, since it’s obviously autobiographical. I think it would belong in the missed connections: m4w.
Dear dude in beanie who catcalled me as I was walking home,
First of all, I’m not even going to pretend to myself it was a compliment. The guy driving was speeding, and there’s no way you saw anything about what I look like. Probably what registered was that I was wearing a dress, and that was sufficient. Please mention to the driver that he shouldn’t speed there; there’s a playground there, and there are kids on it during the week and on Sundays. More than the catcalling, it makes me mad that you were speeding where children might duck into the street.
Moving on. I don’t frequent the m4w section because . . . we’ll save that for another time. But, if you found the brief glimpse of this ancient Old Navy dress so tantalizing, perhaps we should get better acquainted. See, when you said whatever it was you said– and I didn’t catch a word of it, so I’m just going to interpret for myself– I was thinking about what I needed to do when I got home. Cleaning, specifically.
The dishes are clean, and I did a pretty bang-up job on all the floors last week, if I do say so myself, but the bathroom is due for one of those good scrubs. It’s tiny and has no ventilation, so I don’t like doing that (eau de mix of tons of chemicals). I think we could really get to know each other if you stayed here and got that really sparkling clean while I go get a nice coffee and read (Apocalypse Baby— if you read it, too, we’ll talk book club– that’s the next level!).
Let me know when you’re done. And gone. Oh, and you might want to bring headphones. Unwelcome noise is surprisingly annoying.
One Request Before I Go, DJ!
No point, as usual. I need a coda, and I love this song/live version.