Morons in the Morning
3.3.2003 by , every Monday.
Every weekday morning, I, much like millions of other people, get up in the morning, and go to work. And just like millions of other people, I drive myself there, due to both a lack of public transportation and a need to keep oil prices propped up. And my vehicle, just like millions of other vehicles, comes equipped with a radio.
And that's where the problems begin. For, like millions of other people, I like to listen to the radio while driving. And when one drives in the mornings, one has the following listening options:
1: Morning Radio Shows
2: Hungarian Army Marches on NPR
4: Your own sobbing
For most of you, none of these options are going to be terribly appealing. For those of you that actually have a preference for one of the listed items, I have the following responses:
1: I have nothing to say to you because your attention span caused you to lose interest halfway through my first sentence and go looking for pictures of the Olsen Twins.
2: Kill yourself. You have nothing to live for.
3: Can I have your radio?
Morning radio shows are a plague upon civilization, and are the third most common factor in car CD player sales, behind “So I can play my 50 Cent CD over my 50,000 watt car stereo at volumes high enough to disrupt satellite operations” and “so I can not play Britney Spears CDs in it.”
Morning radio shows have a long and painful history. Recently discovered hieroglyphics in Egypt's Valley of the Kings depict a figure resembling Howard Stern being fed to jackals, and then tied to a boulder and thrown into the Nile after the jackals woudn't touch him. Many famous historical figures were avid morning show listeners; Napoleon, Pol Pot, and Hitler are some of the foremost.
I still marvel at how these things stay on the air. They're an endless parade of obnoxious hosts, moronic guests, unfunny comedy bits, and simplistic opinions, all while everyone acts like they're particularly immature high school freshmen. And this is all sandwiched between commerical breaks of truly epic length. And somehow, someone has to be listening to these things. Someone, somewhere, has to have decided that he just can't start the day without a heaping dose of sophomoric crap, that he needs to hear grown men making fart noises before work. We must find this man and kill him. I make the assumption that it is a man rather that a woman due to the fact that whenever I find myself in a situation where I am forced to listen to a morning show, as defined as “not within brick-throwing range of the radio,” it's always men who call in.
“Hey Bubba Joe, Keghead!” the idiot starts. “long time listener, first time caller.” “OOK!” replies Keghead, because he's an alcoholic orangutang. “I just wanted to say that about all this business with Iraq, we should bomb everybody, then have a beer and smoke the shubbery.” “Well, that's great!” replies Bubba Joe. “After the break, we'll all talk about what we'd do if we ever met a girl!!”
I just keep holding out hope that someday someone will figure out that he can get incredible morning ratings by having a radio station that just plays music in the morning. Until then, who's up for some Hungarian Army Marches?