When I was eight I decided I didn’t like my mom’s cooking. Instead of force-feeding me or pleading to my juvenile sensibilities she simply said, “Fine. Starve.” For the next three days I was left to fend for myself. This Lord of The Flies moment was immediately followed by ten years of eating whatever my mother put on my plate and keeping my Yap shut during dinner.
Lately I’ve decided that I don’t like what I’m hearing on the radio. This epiphany was spawned by the mind numbing lifetime I spent driving across S. Dakota last week. During that drive I had time to think about what I’d like in a radio station if there were no rules, or lawyers impeding the ju-ju. One week later,via the miracles of modern technology, I have my own AM station. I may be back listening to the bland goo on the FM by weeks end but for now I’m dead set on surviving on my own dog food.
We’ll be streaming all twelve continuous hours of it on our website as soon as our IT guy gets back from squatting for tickets outside the new Hobbit movie, but in the meantime here’s a sample. My apologies to the FCC in advance. I know not what I do.
Horses Cut Shop
Department of Communications