Twitter. On it. Weird, possibly pointless. Feature script outline v3. Finished. A weekend visit to the UCB. Delightful, as usual. Not performed as usual. An hour of improv in the dark. Earth hour. No lights. Nation(world?)wide. Again, weird, possibly pointless.
Interruption. Real time. Call from lit manager who passed on me. Needs my boss. Boss not here. Holding shit together. Will not break. Professionalism my middle name. Anger, dejection suppressed. Whew.
Sunday. Hike. Back of Hollywood sign. Great view. The valley on one side, city on the other. Costco trip. Some soda, some water filters. Freezer already full of frozen meat. Costco pizza. Delicious. Monday. Back to the grind. Yipes. Final touches on script outline v3 performed discreetly. Waiting game. Government forces head of GM out. Panic. Ignore. Not happening. President not seizing all the power he can get. Anyway. Twitter. Not getting it. Tuesday. Gym. Back on schedule. Work. Slow, boring. Lunch. Read. Secret research project. Will share. Not now. Wait for end. Of day. Not life. Boss leaves. Ecstasy. Then, boredom. Then, blogging.
31 March 2009
17 March 2009
A visit from the East
My sister and her friend Mallory (i.e., her Mal Pal) visited me last week. It was a fun time with the Diddy Reese and the UCB and the C + O's by the Venice Pier and the watching of the Office and the eating of the pizza in the valley and the sitting on the grass of the Santa Monica Farmer's market with subsequent walk along the beach and the driving on Hollywood and so on. If you've visited me out here, younowudimtalkinabowt.
11 March 2009
Rush Limbaugh is a big, fat, well-compensated entertainer.
I must return to this more familiar and comfortable form of blogging for now. Perhaps more experiments will happen in the future. After all, my favorite quotation, according to facebook.com, is William Blake's, "The true method of knowledge is experiment." Yeah, think on that, people. Actually, don't worry about it.
Sometimes I watch the news, but more often I look at news Web sites and, even more often, news aggregation Web sites. It seems radio legend Rush Limbaugh is still a big deal. It's dying down now, but only a week or so ago, it seemed that every Web site and every news show was running some sort of piece on Limbaugh's statement that he wants President Obama to fail, or his policies to fail, or whatever.
The reason I bring this up is not to dribble my meager opinion into the giant public opinion potty. Sharing what I think of what Mr. Limbaugh said or what he really said or really meant and what it means and how it affects anything is not that interesting to me. No, the reason I bring this up is that it gives me a chance to talk about my obsession with talk radio.
My name is Zach, and I have a disease. It's not EggZachary disease, where, well, you know... No, it's logotelecommuniphilia: the love for and of hearing disembodied voices on the radio. Some call it a disorder, some an addiction, but I know it's a disease.
I contracted this disease in middle school, 7th grade to be exact. This is a common age for boys to catch it. The person who gave it to me was a man named Drew Garabo, who hosted the nighttime show from 7-11 p.m. on Orlando's FM talk station, Real Radio 104.1. It began, as these things often do, because a friend told me about The Drew Show. He let me listen a couple times on his radio, and I was a goner. So I suppose you could say my friend is responsible for my condition. Anyway I bought a portable radio of my own and would listen to Drew make prank calls or argue with people about spanking their kids. Drew made a lot of fart and sex jokes, so I wasn't officially allowed to listen. I'm sorry to break it to my parents this way, but I would listen in secret. Although, I think they knew. One time my mom said something like, "Are you listening to that Drew and Dirty Dan Show?" She was conflating the names of Drew's sidekick at the time, Daniel, and a character on the midday show named Dirty Jim.
The Drew years were glorious. My friend and I still reminisce about the hilarity of Drew, Daniel and Mandy, the trio that we consider to be "the originals." Drew pissed off Mandy, and she left the show. Then, he pissed off Daniel, and things began to deteriorate after that. By this time, my condition had worsened, and I found myself listening to the midday show and even the (boring) Phillips Phile in the afternoons. Still, Drew was my man.
Then, I left Orlando for college. Much to my chagrin, there was no FM talk station in Gainesville. I suffered withdrawals, and I would tune into Real Radio as soon as it's static-y signal began to come in along that stretch of the turnpike taking me back to Orlando. Even though Drew was long gone, I was grateful to hear the voice of Daniel (now on the Monsters) or even Shannon Burke and his insane laugh. On the drive north to Gainesville, I could sometimes hold onto the station all the way onto I-75.
But this would not do. I needed something. I discovered NPR and their talkers who made the Phillips Phile seem like a clan of raucous, sophomoric brutes. It sustained me for awhile. But the voices were so even-tempered, so polite. It wasn't...raw. Then, one day, I hit rock bottom. Craving a voice, something crude and unpolished and spontaneous, I placed my finger upon the AM/FM tuner. That's right, folks. I ventured into the scratchy, mono world of the AM band.
I could only take it in small doses at first. This is making me dumb, making me dumb, making me dumb. I'd hear the end of Rush Limbaugh on the way to work and then the beginning of Neil Boortz. At night, I'd hear some local right-wingers. I don't remember their names, but I remember their voices. And really late at night, maybe during a solo Guthrie's run, I'd hear crazy, crazy Michael Savage. At first, it was difficult to discern between any of these guys. I could differentiate their voices, of course, but their ideas all blended together. Then, I began to notice differences, idiosyncrasies setting them apart. This became the newest evolution in my disease: a compulsion to separate and understand each of these men. Rush was, well, everything you think Republicans would and should be--textbook, you might say: pro-tax cuts, anti-global warming, pro-life, pro-Iraq War, anti-Pelosi, etc. His views weren't interesting, necessarily, but he did turn out to be sort of genial and funny, and, yes, intelligent. I was expecting more anger, but Rush is actually more playful than angry. Also, he was theatrical and outrageous in a way that reminded me of the zany FM talk days of my past. Neil Boortz also turned out to be a fan of the outrageous sound byte, and I found it interesting that he was pro-life and had no problem using the label "religious loonies," and not just when referring to Muslims. Boortz was, and probably still is, my favorite right-wing AM talker. This is probably because he's sort of libertarian, though he calls himself "a libertine." Michael Savage, the stereotypical angry white man, spent most of his time bitching about gays, Muslims, slutty girls and San Fran"sicko," while spending the few remaining moments of airtime reminding the audience in his grating Brooklyn accent that he is "Dr. Savage" and then trying to sell weird herbal supplements or something. He disgusted me.
When I moved to LA, I rediscovered FM Talk all over again with 97.1 Free FM. It began with Adam Carolla in the morning. Adam Carolla was always a man I had found to be annoying, but somehow, once again, the magic of radio made me come to consider him a friend. Frosty Heidi and Frank were great fun in the middays, and though I hated myself for listening to the repetitive, misogynist called Tom Leykis, my radio spent many hours blasting his scratchy, contrived voice. And, my favorites, Conway in Whitman amused me for nighttime driving. I've always kept my affinity for the nighttime guys.
Then, the unthinkable happened. 97.1 flipped formats and became a Top 40 station. And I relapsed. I dragged my ass back to the AM dial. There are two AM talk stations in LA, so I switch between them during commercial breaks. Somehow, between these two stations, there is not a Rush Limbaugh, but rather what I consider to be cheap knock-offs: Mike Gallagher, John McIntyre, Mark Levin. And there's the ultimate Limbaugh rip-off, the Pepsi to his Coke, the endlessly repetitive and pussy-ish Sean Hannity. There's also Dennis Prager, whose soothing voice and benevolent manner belies his capability to make vicious verbal attacks on The Left. In many ways, he is the one who interests me the most, because he eschews the traditional talk radio approach of bluster and provocation for calm and reason. Let us have a discussion, shall we? Yet, the actual words are often, well, angry. He's Rush Limbaugh with a voice for NPR. And that's why although he interests me as a character, he often bores me as a broadcaster.
Speaking of boring, this entry is getting a bit lengthy, eh? All these words just to say that I'm into podcasting now. I can only take so much of the right-wingers, and the mono AM sound, so I'm taking drastic measures and downloading some of my old unemployed FM friends. I guess, deep down, I always wanted to be one of them. But the irony is that although I can write paragraphs of my thoughts on this topic and still feel as if I have more to say, I'd never be able to speak three sentences of it. Cruel, cruel world.
Good thing my friend, the writing partner, has decided to start a podcast with me so that I can learn the basics. It's called the PodCats, and it's coming soon to a fantasy world near you.
p.s. While I have significant disagreements with all the performers listed in the above entry, I have found myself, in the end, liking each of them, the notable exceptions being Sean Hannity and Michael Savage, both of whom I find to be disingenuous. Also, I somehow left out my all-time favorite: Phil Hendrie.
Sometimes I watch the news, but more often I look at news Web sites and, even more often, news aggregation Web sites. It seems radio legend Rush Limbaugh is still a big deal. It's dying down now, but only a week or so ago, it seemed that every Web site and every news show was running some sort of piece on Limbaugh's statement that he wants President Obama to fail, or his policies to fail, or whatever.
The reason I bring this up is not to dribble my meager opinion into the giant public opinion potty. Sharing what I think of what Mr. Limbaugh said or what he really said or really meant and what it means and how it affects anything is not that interesting to me. No, the reason I bring this up is that it gives me a chance to talk about my obsession with talk radio.
My name is Zach, and I have a disease. It's not EggZachary disease, where, well, you know... No, it's logotelecommuniphilia: the love for and of hearing disembodied voices on the radio. Some call it a disorder, some an addiction, but I know it's a disease.
I contracted this disease in middle school, 7th grade to be exact. This is a common age for boys to catch it. The person who gave it to me was a man named Drew Garabo, who hosted the nighttime show from 7-11 p.m. on Orlando's FM talk station, Real Radio 104.1. It began, as these things often do, because a friend told me about The Drew Show. He let me listen a couple times on his radio, and I was a goner. So I suppose you could say my friend is responsible for my condition. Anyway I bought a portable radio of my own and would listen to Drew make prank calls or argue with people about spanking their kids. Drew made a lot of fart and sex jokes, so I wasn't officially allowed to listen. I'm sorry to break it to my parents this way, but I would listen in secret. Although, I think they knew. One time my mom said something like, "Are you listening to that Drew and Dirty Dan Show?" She was conflating the names of Drew's sidekick at the time, Daniel, and a character on the midday show named Dirty Jim.
The Drew years were glorious. My friend and I still reminisce about the hilarity of Drew, Daniel and Mandy, the trio that we consider to be "the originals." Drew pissed off Mandy, and she left the show. Then, he pissed off Daniel, and things began to deteriorate after that. By this time, my condition had worsened, and I found myself listening to the midday show and even the (boring) Phillips Phile in the afternoons. Still, Drew was my man.
Then, I left Orlando for college. Much to my chagrin, there was no FM talk station in Gainesville. I suffered withdrawals, and I would tune into Real Radio as soon as it's static-y signal began to come in along that stretch of the turnpike taking me back to Orlando. Even though Drew was long gone, I was grateful to hear the voice of Daniel (now on the Monsters) or even Shannon Burke and his insane laugh. On the drive north to Gainesville, I could sometimes hold onto the station all the way onto I-75.
But this would not do. I needed something. I discovered NPR and their talkers who made the Phillips Phile seem like a clan of raucous, sophomoric brutes. It sustained me for awhile. But the voices were so even-tempered, so polite. It wasn't...raw. Then, one day, I hit rock bottom. Craving a voice, something crude and unpolished and spontaneous, I placed my finger upon the AM/FM tuner. That's right, folks. I ventured into the scratchy, mono world of the AM band.
I could only take it in small doses at first. This is making me dumb, making me dumb, making me dumb. I'd hear the end of Rush Limbaugh on the way to work and then the beginning of Neil Boortz. At night, I'd hear some local right-wingers. I don't remember their names, but I remember their voices. And really late at night, maybe during a solo Guthrie's run, I'd hear crazy, crazy Michael Savage. At first, it was difficult to discern between any of these guys. I could differentiate their voices, of course, but their ideas all blended together. Then, I began to notice differences, idiosyncrasies setting them apart. This became the newest evolution in my disease: a compulsion to separate and understand each of these men. Rush was, well, everything you think Republicans would and should be--textbook, you might say: pro-tax cuts, anti-global warming, pro-life, pro-Iraq War, anti-Pelosi, etc. His views weren't interesting, necessarily, but he did turn out to be sort of genial and funny, and, yes, intelligent. I was expecting more anger, but Rush is actually more playful than angry. Also, he was theatrical and outrageous in a way that reminded me of the zany FM talk days of my past. Neil Boortz also turned out to be a fan of the outrageous sound byte, and I found it interesting that he was pro-life and had no problem using the label "religious loonies," and not just when referring to Muslims. Boortz was, and probably still is, my favorite right-wing AM talker. This is probably because he's sort of libertarian, though he calls himself "a libertine." Michael Savage, the stereotypical angry white man, spent most of his time bitching about gays, Muslims, slutty girls and San Fran"sicko," while spending the few remaining moments of airtime reminding the audience in his grating Brooklyn accent that he is "Dr. Savage" and then trying to sell weird herbal supplements or something. He disgusted me.
When I moved to LA, I rediscovered FM Talk all over again with 97.1 Free FM. It began with Adam Carolla in the morning. Adam Carolla was always a man I had found to be annoying, but somehow, once again, the magic of radio made me come to consider him a friend. Frosty Heidi and Frank were great fun in the middays, and though I hated myself for listening to the repetitive, misogynist called Tom Leykis, my radio spent many hours blasting his scratchy, contrived voice. And, my favorites, Conway in Whitman amused me for nighttime driving. I've always kept my affinity for the nighttime guys.
Then, the unthinkable happened. 97.1 flipped formats and became a Top 40 station. And I relapsed. I dragged my ass back to the AM dial. There are two AM talk stations in LA, so I switch between them during commercial breaks. Somehow, between these two stations, there is not a Rush Limbaugh, but rather what I consider to be cheap knock-offs: Mike Gallagher, John McIntyre, Mark Levin. And there's the ultimate Limbaugh rip-off, the Pepsi to his Coke, the endlessly repetitive and pussy-ish Sean Hannity. There's also Dennis Prager, whose soothing voice and benevolent manner belies his capability to make vicious verbal attacks on The Left. In many ways, he is the one who interests me the most, because he eschews the traditional talk radio approach of bluster and provocation for calm and reason. Let us have a discussion, shall we? Yet, the actual words are often, well, angry. He's Rush Limbaugh with a voice for NPR. And that's why although he interests me as a character, he often bores me as a broadcaster.
Speaking of boring, this entry is getting a bit lengthy, eh? All these words just to say that I'm into podcasting now. I can only take so much of the right-wingers, and the mono AM sound, so I'm taking drastic measures and downloading some of my old unemployed FM friends. I guess, deep down, I always wanted to be one of them. But the irony is that although I can write paragraphs of my thoughts on this topic and still feel as if I have more to say, I'd never be able to speak three sentences of it. Cruel, cruel world.
Good thing my friend, the writing partner, has decided to start a podcast with me so that I can learn the basics. It's called the PodCats, and it's coming soon to a fantasy world near you.
p.s. While I have significant disagreements with all the performers listed in the above entry, I have found myself, in the end, liking each of them, the notable exceptions being Sean Hannity and Michael Savage, both of whom I find to be disingenuous. Also, I somehow left out my all-time favorite: Phil Hendrie.
04 March 2009
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