Sunday, March 8, 2009


Love each other, people. It’s the one hundred and twelfth anniversary today of the first Academy Awards. Your host: Douglas Fairbanks, whom many of you will remember for his immortal turn as Che in Carl Marks’ late experiment Ernesto in Kinshasa. A sexy man, Douglas Fairbanks, which I can say because I just got laid. Speaking of which, you could be making love to the partner or anonymous party, real or virtual, of your choice right now. So why are you listening to me? And if you are making love to the partner or anonymous party of your choice while streaming me—you know who you are—I don’t want to know about it. Truly I don’t. Any and all correspondence on the topic, as assessed by keyword, will be aspaminated. I am reliably informed that my audio listenership, together with feed traffic, indexed according to lucrativity of perclickitude, ranks me in the top five percent of local net, feed, and old-fashioned broadcast traffic. To which I say Amazing! It used to be you had to play music or talk politics to get those kinds of numbers. Or pretend to help people, or try to save their souls. Me, I just talk. And I am interesting.

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