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.
It's 8:47 on a Tuesday morning and I just did a radio show then went and had breakfast. On the way back into the studios here at the Purdue Northwest Commercialization Center I ran into two guys who are waiting to go on the air. They were just on the Mike Rowe Show, which, if I'm not mistaken, only airs on Facebook Live. Imagine that.