Radio Silence
Neither running an leak-down test nor staking pinion nuts are my life's calling. Temping on an assembly line in my hometown for a smattering of nickels wasn't as bad as I could have imagined. The people weren't so bad. Excepting Turd. And DickDan. Some deserved the job they had and some clearly deserved better. They all deserved to be paid better. I am of the people and I am not. I can't ever convince them I'm one of them, my words are too obtuse (see?), my humor is too highbrow. But I am one of them.
I'm listening to Oil! in my last days here and it's a socialist treatise on labor v capital and red v white. It's interesting to look at the shop through a snarky idealist's eyes. In todays flatness of world I'm hard-pressed to understand how any union can exert much power. (well, truckers, that I could understand.) It doesn't matter where the shit is produced, it seems actually rather quaint and generous that Dana would bother even paying Adecco the 12$ or whatever to supply them an army of temps to build the stuff here, in America.
The one thing that I will be most glad to escape is the radio. Next to my head, for ten hours a night, we switch between the Fox and the Eagle. The Fox is ok, "classic rock" that attempts to not repeat itself, but can't for the life of it imagine an Alice Cooper song that isn't Poison. An artificial DJ with some variation, but he also has musical hiccups and incessant ATV ads. The Eagle has sold it's evening program to John Tesh. John Tesh is the Devil. DO NOT CLICK. He's a clueless twat. A middle-aged rich white guy who has a radio-friendly voice. His shtick is thus:
He goes to the studio, probably once a week, and records about an hours worth of material to be played per show. He has a book he's pushing on the show, Intelligence for Your Life, which is a life manual of common sense for the ever elusive white middle class medium adult. The one with a sports car and a minivan and 2.3 kids and a house and a mortgage and debt and acne. His show is just packed with trite moronic slice of Americana advice. He's got a platitude and advice for every family-friendly part of your life.
It's the radio equivalent of eating slices of American cheese. American cheese with a GMC logo cut into the middle. It's our culture after James Dobson has taken out the offending bits. It's an obese woman in a McDonalds drive-thru ordering a salad from her hybrid SUV. It's MythBusters for the short bus.
Thank god it's over.
Dear John (Tesh),
I'm through. Fuck off.
Sincerely,
Lord of the Barnyard.
I'm listening to Oil! in my last days here and it's a socialist treatise on labor v capital and red v white. It's interesting to look at the shop through a snarky idealist's eyes. In todays flatness of world I'm hard-pressed to understand how any union can exert much power. (well, truckers, that I could understand.) It doesn't matter where the shit is produced, it seems actually rather quaint and generous that Dana would bother even paying Adecco the 12$ or whatever to supply them an army of temps to build the stuff here, in America.
The one thing that I will be most glad to escape is the radio. Next to my head, for ten hours a night, we switch between the Fox and the Eagle. The Fox is ok, "classic rock" that attempts to not repeat itself, but can't for the life of it imagine an Alice Cooper song that isn't Poison. An artificial DJ with some variation, but he also has musical hiccups and incessant ATV ads. The Eagle has sold it's evening program to John Tesh. John Tesh is the Devil. DO NOT CLICK. He's a clueless twat. A middle-aged rich white guy who has a radio-friendly voice. His shtick is thus:
He goes to the studio, probably once a week, and records about an hours worth of material to be played per show. He has a book he's pushing on the show, Intelligence for Your Life, which is a life manual of common sense for the ever elusive white middle class medium adult. The one with a sports car and a minivan and 2.3 kids and a house and a mortgage and debt and acne. His show is just packed with trite moronic slice of Americana advice. He's got a platitude and advice for every family-friendly part of your life.
It's the radio equivalent of eating slices of American cheese. American cheese with a GMC logo cut into the middle. It's our culture after James Dobson has taken out the offending bits. It's an obese woman in a McDonalds drive-thru ordering a salad from her hybrid SUV. It's MythBusters for the short bus.
Thank god it's over.
Dear John (Tesh),
I'm through. Fuck off.
Sincerely,
Lord of the Barnyard.
posted by Lord of the Barnyard at 12:49 PM
2 Comments:
Lotb:
Oh, you've hit a nerve with me! John Tesh is WORSE than James Dobson, because at least James Dobson doesn't hide his offensiveness behind new age music and a velvety voice. John Tesh is married to Connie Seleca (I think she had some lame crime show drama in the 80s) and he produces Christian music. Even Jesus hates John Tesh. (word verification: ofnnk).
so.
you gotta change the name of your blog soon, because
1 - the hills of knox county aren't always bleak and you know it... :)
and
2- you are not long a resident of those bleak hills anymore
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