Thanks for the ordination mi amigo, great that you have the wherewithal to create and manage this forum in such high caliber fashion! I spent the first few days reading old posts and laughing ass like it hasn’t laughed in a long time I tell you. If you people didn’t exist, I would have had to make you up. Wait, that sounds snoory. It was though quite a relief, to know that there was a witty, self-respecting, non-conformist community, somewhere out there…
And as much as my kiss off letter to Premiere needed to be written, it didn’t satisfy those years of pent up aggression I had acquired due to the spit roasting of a once entertaining, and sometimes great, radio show- the whole while it’s like what, I’m not supposed to notice? Like a big ol’ silent-but-deadly that the driver in a tiny Honda Civic eases out over and over on a long road trip, in the middle of the night, when its so damn cold that opening the windows is no option, and you, as the passenger must say please stop this car and let me off because I’d rather walk in the cold than ride with somebody who won’t stop farting and also won’t admit that they are?
So here’s the letter I wanted to write, until my better nature had its way:
Dear Coast To Coast Producers,
You have totally slaughtered my show doofuses, so, get off the fucking air! I mean, I have heard better conversations coming from desiccated coyote scat than the crap I hear stinking up the public airwaves on the weeknights now. For Gawd’s sake people grow up! Who wants to hear some guy who can’t read a full line of copy without hacking the rhythm, order, pronunciation, context, and therefore the meaning of the damn thing like sticking your head in a freakin’ wood chipper already? I mean it would take a whole city block of mental wards for anyone to collectively make sense of “What the hell is I.G.Noory thinking?” but that wouldn’t be fair to the patients. Do you feel good spending money earned from taking a thoroughbred stallion, butchering it all to hell, selling the meat to eFood Doggy Treats Co., then stuffing and mounting the corpse for all to admire? Get off the fucking air Yeti Scrotums, you make me wish Marconi had invented an ecologically sound toilet paper instead, you radio posers. Get a radio guy on there already, not a freakin’ mental yo yo. And lose that stupid fool picture on your lame website while you're at it you Noory ballwashing loonatrons- it’s not hip, it’s not now, it’s not even really possible to look at it without knowing that this clown is right now sitting around in his acrylic socks, boxers, and wife beater, eating Doritos, watching I Love Lucy reruns- on my Freakin’ dime! But he hasn’t earned it yet! So lose Bozo ‘cuz this crap is like replacing The Messiah Being Interviewed By Dennis Miller On Acid Broadcasting From The Dark Side Of The Moon, with Britney Spears Live From Pasadena Huffing Paint Thinner While Forming Little Shapes From Play Dough, and I don’t like it!!!! Have I made myself clear??? So please, if you can’t give me back my money, not to mention my goodwill toward man which I have apparently lost by being so pissed at your mindless incompetence, then take a fucking hike, get a fucking clue, then get a real job. Maybe something like sign-twirler out front of The Area 51 Portal Car Wash in Parumph, Nevada might fit your likes you no good broadcast wannabe asswipes.
PS- If it happens, as I sometimes suspect, that you have been forced into this carnage by some, let’s say, agency beyond your control, then please excuse the above and best of luck!
