It’s grovel time for NPR affiliates around the country and my local station is no exeception. They’re pulling out all the stops as usual to try and get me to cough up my money and support them, but I’m not going to do it. Why? I mean, I do enjoy some of the programming they offer, so I should kick some dough their way, right? And if they simply aired NPR/PRI/BBC produced programming, I’d send 'em a check. But they don’t. No, they’ve decided to produce their own programming and it’s so mind-numbingly bad that the thought of any of my money encouraging them to continue to do so is enough for me to want to retch.
The shows in question (and in no particular order of repugnancy):
The Fine Print with Rebecca Bain– Ms. Bain occassionally interviews writers, occassionally she takes an NPR interview, slices out the NPR interviewer and splices herself in. The authors profiled on this show are generally “One Hit Wonders” of the publishing world. Authors who have one book that hits the best-seller list and are deservedly forgotten when the book drops off the charts. Authors with anything interesting or controversial to say, need not apply. Of course, to Ms. Bain the hacks that she does interview are literary lions and every word they speak or write should be lapped up with enthusiasm. And no interview would be complete without Ms. Bain’s on-air orgasm. That’s right, orgasms broadcast on an NPR affiliate. Ms. Bain starts her interviews out calmly enough, but as they progress, she gets more and more excited, her pitch rising higher and higher, until at the end of the interview when the hack reads from his work one last time, she’s reached a level of incoherence that leads me to believe she’s fisting herself.
The Songwriter Sessions– Does for the music world what Ms. Bain’s program does for the literary world. One song that I happened to catch part of while I was diving for the off-switch of the radio still haunts me nearly two years later. Here’s the lyrics;
Folks, we’re in fucking Nashville!!! You know? Music City, USA??? And you guys can’t find someone better than some hackneyed street musician to put on the air!?!
Surprisingly enough, they have killed the worst program of them all: Mainstream Drive. Imagine, if you will, HAL 9000 being given a radio show. That’ll give you some idea of the level of emotion in the hosts voices as they did the program. It did such exciting segments as travelling to the gas station where some escaped convicts bought their last meal as free men: bologna sandwiches. The story, naturally focused on the sandwiches, and concluded with the line, “MMM. That’s good bologna.”
So folks, as long as you insist on producing programs that have as much appeal to me as licking the post-coital spunk off a wooly mammoth’s testicles you can forget about my ever sending you money.