So I'm sitting in my ergo-chair, mindin' my own fuckin' business. I turn on the radio. Mistake. George Noory again. He has a great broad on, Diane Hennacy, talking about ESP and she knows her stuff. You can tell. Even with Noory's inane drivel, I found her pretty goddamn engaging. However, when that last hour came, Noory showed no ability to adapt to Diane's ability to talk at length in a very interesting manner. She's the type of guest that could do the whole show for him if he would only shut the fuck up.
But he couldn't wait to get to "the callers" with "their stories" so he could go completely on automatic pilot and leave his guest hanging at the same time. FUCK THE CALLERS!
I say that with gusto, like Tom Cruise said in Vanilla Sky about his arm when addressing the surgical team.
FUCK MY ARM! (you have to see it)
It's TALK radio, not inbred redneck delusional stupid caller radio.
Once again, we had to hear from a psychic caller who saw September 11 before it happened. Once again someone had to mention Tesla (in the first hour) as if they knew what the hell they were talking about.
Noory allowed these yahoos on bad cell phone connections to digress so much that I almost forgot there was a guest with a magnificent brain present. All the while, George is throwing his "absolutely" out there over and over, with his "Isn't that right?" bullshit. It's enough to put me in the ER with a cardiac event, begging Dr. Death for sweet release.
If I hear that unimaginative lazy bastard ask "Why is that?" one more time...
I hate it when the guest is telling a good story and Noory interrupts the guest and states "Phoenix, you're on, go ahead with your question." He then allows "Bryan in Phoenix" to talk all the way up to almost time for a commercial, dumps the caller, asks the guest a leading question, only to interrupt the guest after 30 seconds to go to the commercial.
I've never witnessed such inept EXCREMENT. If only I could be there in the studio with a flamethrower. And what is it now with all the mispronunciations even during his commercials? Catalog has become Clatalog. Aren't those commercials prerecorded? Can't they correct that crap before airing it? Imagine if Noory had administered the presidential oath. Christ on a gnarly ceramic crutch.
My tolerance is either lower or George has, somehow, incredibly, gotten WORSE than before.
And we are SICK of hearing about your ~Aunt
"Caligula"~ George. (
>>>>>-----KICK!!!!!!!!!!!!-------->) Put a sock in it. Her death by radio is one big honking metaphor of what you are doing to the audience on a nightly basis. Radio killed her, and you, through our radios, are killing us, only her death was much much quicker.
It's like bad criminal TV psychology:
"Don't you see you're killing your aunt over and over and over?"
My contempt for Noory is exceeded only by my intellect. Barely. It's a close humping race.
Also, he's coming through much too clear, as if they got a new microphone. I hear every little cough and snort and snicker from the jackass. Makes me want to strangle him.
