5:28am. I'm sitting in the JEDtv/WJOB studios writing to you and doing a little reflecting after staying up most of the night watching news reports of bombing in Ukraine.
Run, baby, run. It's
you. You've always
been the one. I try in
vain to catch up to have
a little fun.
Run, baby, run. It's
you. You've always
been the one. I try in
vain to catch up to have
a little fun.
Billy Baker and I had a couple Diet Pops last night, laughing at the cantina up on the hill. Alexis arrived home from a lawyers meeting and we laid down to watch some news to wind down.
Boom. There was no winding down. We were watching a reporter live on a hotel rooftop in Kyiv. He was talking about the speech that Vladimir Putin had just given. And in... the... middle... of a sentence.... BOOM. Explosions. It was Bernard Shaw in Baghdad all over again. I had fitful nights of sleep then and I have it again today.
I want you to
lighten up. It's just
bombs dropping on people's
heads five thousand miles
down the highway.
Every time I time
I turn around
someone's saying something that
doesn't make any sense.
So where's Waldo?
Producer Lucie from south of Dublin will be walking into the studios any second. She'll be surprised to see me here banging away on a keyboard. In the history of us doing the morning show together, I'm pretty sure I never arrived before her. The typical modus operandi is Lucie turns on all the lights, puts graphics on all of the TVs, adjusts the robotic cameras, turns on a half dozen computers and tests all the microphones.
Then I walk in five minutes to air, strap a wireless mic on my back, and I start talking.
Blah blah blah blah blah.
Stock market is swooning. Russia's dropping bombs on Ukrainians. There's a new variant of Omicron (haven't you heard?). Inflation? Yes. And don't forget about the division in America.
It's not rosy. But one thing that is always rosy is the spirit of WJOB... because it is good and pure and beautiful. And don't let anyone tell you any differently. Lucie just showed up. She handed me the Times newspaper.
"Is this the first time I beat you here in the morning?"
"No. There's been one or two times. But this is the first time you've actually been sitting down typing and look ready to go on the air."
Yes. I am ready to go on the air. I got up in the middle of the night thinking about bombs.
If you wake up
to go pee and
all you think about is
bombs, forget going back
to sleep. Get up.
That's what I did. I got up, did a headstand, took a shower.. and drove down to the station at three in the morning. I don't why it has made me feel better, but it has. I worry when people start dropping bombs. It keeps me up at night. I stumble to the bathroom, tinkle tinkle tinkle sounds like boom boom boom in my head.
Where there once was
a fast-moving
stream, there now exists the
hint of a dribble... and
tons of worry.
So I came down to my radio stations and streaming video network, turned it on, and started talking. There's the broadcast. If you wake up tonight to go pee and all you think about is bombs, watch it. I like look a wild man of Borneo.
Boom. There was no winding down. We were watching a reporter live on a hotel rooftop in Kyiv. He was talking about the speech that Vladimir Putin had just given. And in... the... middle... of a sentence.... BOOM. Explosions. It was Bernard Shaw in Baghdad all over again. I had fitful nights of sleep then and I have it again today.
I want you to
lighten up. It's just
bombs dropping on people's
heads five thousand miles
down the highway.
Every time I time
I turn around
someone's saying something that
doesn't make any sense.
So where's Waldo?
Producer Lucie from south of Dublin will be walking into the studios any second. She'll be surprised to see me here banging away on a keyboard. In the history of us doing the morning show together, I'm pretty sure I never arrived before her. The typical modus operandi is Lucie turns on all the lights, puts graphics on all of the TVs, adjusts the robotic cameras, turns on a half dozen computers and tests all the microphones.
Then I walk in five minutes to air, strap a wireless mic on my back, and I start talking.
Blah blah blah blah blah.
Stock market is swooning. Russia's dropping bombs on Ukrainians. There's a new variant of Omicron (haven't you heard?). Inflation? Yes. And don't forget about the division in America.
It's not rosy. But one thing that is always rosy is the spirit of WJOB... because it is good and pure and beautiful. And don't let anyone tell you any differently. Lucie just showed up. She handed me the Times newspaper.
"Is this the first time I beat you here in the morning?"
"No. There's been one or two times. But this is the first time you've actually been sitting down typing and look ready to go on the air."
Yes. I am ready to go on the air. I got up in the middle of the night thinking about bombs.
If you wake up
to go pee and
all you think about is
bombs, forget going back
to sleep. Get up.
That's what I did. I got up, did a headstand, took a shower.. and drove down to the station at three in the morning. I don't why it has made me feel better, but it has. I worry when people start dropping bombs. It keeps me up at night. I stumble to the bathroom, tinkle tinkle tinkle sounds like boom boom boom in my head.
Where there once was
a fast-moving
stream, there now exists the
hint of a dribble... and
tons of worry.
So I came down to my radio stations and streaming video network, turned it on, and started talking. There's the broadcast. If you wake up tonight to go pee and all you think about is bombs, watch it. I like look a wild man of Borneo.
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