6:16am. Random Sunday thoughts.
Search twitter for "AM Revitalization" and see what you come up with. That's how little anyone cares.
I'm so bored after a week of not being on the air that I'm reading "Radio Programming and Branding" by Gary Begin. He suggests that morning hosts take a comedy improv class. Imagine that.
I have pissed off so many people recently that I'm starting to doubt myself as a human being. Oh, I forgot. I'm not a human being. I'm a radio host.
Alexis and I stopped at White Castles on the way home from a bar last night. My mouth tastes like a burning lead pipe covered in onions. And for some reason I woke up alone. Toot toot.
I'm gonna try to hang a TV monitor in our new radio station facilities today. Is that sacrilegious?
Kenny Elbaor is really pissed at me. He told me so last night at R Bar. He says his baseball teammates from Hegewisch said I was talking shit about him on the air. He's the fourth or fifth person this week pissed at me.
I'm practicing for Twitter. Can't you tell?
I don't want to get up and go for a run or work out. I'd rather sit here and blog for the three or four of you. That's safe, doesn't require any kind of commitment.
12:11pm. Sunday silence.
Sometimes I like to turn off the fan, sit on our bed, and listen to the most truck-travelled highway in America. It soothes me in times of trouble. In a bit, I'll turn on WJOB. These days that doesn't soothe me at all.
Alexis just made me a turkey sandwich that was out of this world. If you find a woman who can dance, ----, cook, is a good mom, and makes a little bit of money while helping people, marry her. And when she asks you to go to a bar for a little celebration of her son's 36th birthday party, do it.
That's what I did last night. Several listeners were there. Some asked about the dead air during the Whiting High state finals football game. Embarrassing. I want to stick my head between the mattresses and whistle for our 100-pound dog Abbie to come sit on the blankets.
Here's an email from WJOB station manager Debbie Wargo.
During our broadcast of one of the most important games of the football season, the 2A State Championship game from Indianapolis, we experienced 6 minutes of dead air during the 3rd quarter. The exact time of the dead air was 12:48pm until around 12:54pm.
Not only was this a highly anticipated game for listeners, we also had over 20 sponsors who paid to support and advertise during this game...This is unacceptable.
Here's another email, just for fun, from Perry Stabler, otherwise known as MX.
To JED: Nipsco MEME went viral ... 81 shares 3 hours
Here's another email from Geno Sferruzza. He hosts "Region Bandstand," perhaps the best music show in America outside of "The Grateful Dead Hour." And here's the irony. As I'm writing this right now, 12:25pm on Sunday, November 29th, 2015, Geno's show on WJOB AM1230 just went to dead air. So now it's not only Dead Air Dedelow, and Dead Air Whiting... it's also Dead Air Geno. The station went dead during a rousing rendition of "Mama Cass" by, I assume, the Mamas and the Papas. She, Mama Cass, was so big and beautiful.
I'm on from noon til 2:30 today warming the audience up for feetball.
This really is sad. 12:28pm now and still dead air. Geno is retired and loves nothing more than to spin his old records on Saturday afternoons... but of course we have Purdue and Indiana football most Saturdays so he doesn't get to go on. As you can tell from the email he sent me at 9:17am this morning, he was pretty excited about getting an opportunity to play his music on a Sunday afternoon in late November.
Now perhaps you're thinking here at 12:31pm with dead air still going - JED, do something. And I very well may put some pants on - after I take my head from between the mattresses - and drive down to the station to fix the problem, if I can.
But oh wait. I don't have a car. Alexis is (what else?) working at her law office. And my daughter has taken the little Ford Fusion I share with her to college in Chicago. I told her I'd ride my bike everywhere this week, including to WJOB to do the show every morning. Right now, it would take me more than half an hour to bundle up - baby, it's cold outside - and ride to the station. But oh wait, it's 12:32pm and I hear some stirring on the radio.
All right, OK. I believe I got us back on the air. Well, with some help from off-site personnel... thanks to Angel Jimenez for his technical prowess. I think one day I'm gonna bring in one of my own CB antennas to connect to the WJOB tower.
Never a dull moment. One day we'll find out where the problem is in connecting our new studios with the tower seven blocks away. As you know, we connect over the Internet using Comcast. I suspect that they have a short somewhere in their system that is based on Old Infrastructure. In my opinion, and that of other techies that I've engaged, this short gives us a low quality connection and, ultimately, drops. That means dead air. Comcast doesn't like this version. They say it's my equipment.
Standoff at Purdue Commercialization Center Corral.. between heritage local radio station WJOB (since 1923) and one of the largest communications companies on the planet.
And who's caught in the middle? You are, the three or four of you who read my blog. You are, if you're part of the thousands who listen to WJOB for local talk, analysis of elected leaders, traffic, school closings, announcements of fundraisers, quirky callers, and, yes, high school state finals football games.
Once again, should we experience dead air. Please give me a call. I don't always know. Okie-dokee... off to Liverpool. These are the Bangal Ladies...
I don't know this song. "I'm going to Liverpool to do nothing all the days of my life." That Geno. That Geno. And if you're asking who else is caught in the middle. Geno is. He's a retired guy who supports the station in any way he can, including shimmying in on a Sunday to spin some tunes. He's just trying to do what he loves, which is to play a little good time music on a Sunday afternoon. Here's my thought:
I think I'll call Geno during the next break... as soon as I pull my head from between the mattresses.
Abbie, you can get off the bed now. Go.
9:43pm. I have an app on my phone that let's me update this blog for the three or four of you from my smartphone. Lucky you. Now I can thumb-type you a few thoughts and observations from the checkout line at Strack's, from the host chair at WJOB, from my perch on the camode.
Why not just use twitter or facebook? you ask.
I don't know. It just doesn't feel right, like you're walking in to the cafeteria in high school and everyone at every table is
2. stoned, sitting in paranoid silence
3. telling each other how great they are
4. trying to sell each other weed
Also it's the pace. It all moves too fast. Here's another analogy... social media is like chewing your food too quickly, or not fully. Eventually, as your grandmother warned, you'll get indigestion. Let's see if this phone-based blogging app actually posts to the world wide web.