Happy Phuchin Valentines Day

Did you ever have one of those days where everything, I mean everything goes wrong? First, I woke up and went to put on my glasses, and one of the arms broke off. Then I go to the studio with my glasses hanging on or halfway on, and the wind keeps blowing my glasses off. OK I’m in the studio, and everything will turn around. I put on a heavy sweater and sit down at the control board about two minutes before I’m supposed to go on the air. Then the proverbial second shoe fell. No feed in my headphones on the right side. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem but the right side is my feed from the control room. OK I can handle not having a feed from the idiots, so I’ll fly solo. Maybe if they just hold up a piece of paper to the window, na’ that won’t work as the morons can’t spell, let alone find a marker to write with. That minute passes and the misfits come up with what they consider a bright idea. Beau, my producer wants to call in the cavalry. Check this out. He wants to call in Stubby our resident misfit. Now Stubby is about ninety and doesn’t walk very well, he kind of shuffles. Now when he gets from the control room to the broadcast room, it will be sometime tomorrow. As the two rooms are about twenty-five feet apart. This is my producers’ great idea. I now see why I gave him the job.

So panic sets in and I’ve five people running around trying to find another set of headphones. Well, I guess they have that under control. I take a quick drink of water and do a sound check. If there was a third shoe, it would have fallen right there. No feed from the mic. Surprisingly, I’m still not in a panic and continue banging the shit out of the microphone on a table. Now we do have canned stuff of my voice, but I really hate to use that shit. It always sounds so stiff. Sort of the way Siri talks. That reminds me, we’re going to do a bit where Siri plays a hooker. You’ll love it. Now back to reality. So I’m sitting there with no headphones and no mic, and I know we have spares, I just don’t know where. So I call a friend who has a music shop in town and he runs over with new gear that looks like I just bought it. I mean he can’t very well sell it as brand new. So there’s another six or seven hundred bucks. Now we’re live, and everything seems like a fresh spring day. Yeah right! I ask Beau to pull this mix we did of 60’s tunes. I ask him for the twenty-minute version. All queued up, and the fuckin thing keeps going and going and going. He pulled the two-hour mix. So I’m sitting there opening the mic every few minutes as I think it’s ending. Now I do what any good boss would do, I stand up and scream WTF. And everyone heads for shelter. No go get me my new Sports Illustrated and don’t get the pages all sticky this time.

In the end if you want a pretty good mix of tunes from 65 to 69 head over to KUFC and download episode 26.

So all I have left to say is “HAPPY FUCKIN VALENTINES DAY, MOTHER FUCKER” Sorry I just had to say that.



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