You know what I’m talking about.
I got together at a wedding last night with some of my old buddies from the Chicago Board of Trade. I drank too much and fell asleep without eating White Castles. That means there’s a hangover in the air and a rather four smell that has followedl me around all day.
You know what I’m talking about. It’s 4:48pm on a Wednesday, a rainy Wednesday. These are the days that remind you that you will live the next six months in wind, rain, cold and snow. The Grateful Dead had it right:
Run me out in the cold rain and snow… I’m goin’ where those chilly winds don’t blow. It’s .you and me again.
Early morning bad breath gives way to a shower and the smell Aim and Axe. I love Axe. It makes me smell like a bit of an Axehole, but it also makes me feel young again. Hooray for the Hairy Men of America, a class that will someday protected from the Don’t Take Your Shirt Off requirements at many public beaches. It’s 2:26 on Thursday morning. If you listen real hard, you can hear the slow, driving hum of the Borman Expressway a couple of blocks away. Even in the middle of the night, truckers carry loads of oranges and semi-conductors across America. It’s a soothing notion.
What is not soothing is to think about the future of radio. Do you know how many people have laughed in my face in the past couple of years when I say that radio is ready for an insurgence? Literally. |
I run radio stations and a streaming video network in Hammond, Ind., and write this blog.
Blog Archives
June 2022
|