...but this time it's my lovely wife.
You'll notice the State has changed the format of the summons.
"You are ORDERED to call..."
Ordered?
There was a time when Americans didn't take too kindly to being ordered to do much of anything, especially by government shit-heads.
Ordered?
Are we all fucking slaves now?
Ordered?
...and if we refuse to comply with the State order, we are found in contempt and face fines and, ultimately, armed government goons?
But...it's an HONOR to serve as a juror. Says so right there on the summons.
Yes.
An honor...
...an honor to be ordered around and threatened by the almighty State.
Bend over and take it, knave.
...and be thankful.
Now...some of you might be saying, "Zoomie! You would be the first guy to whine and bitch for a jury trial when you finally get popped for spewing threatening anti-government filth on the intardnets. But here you are...crying again about getting called up for jury duty. You suck! Hurry up and eat a shotgun already!"
First of all, they'll never take me alive.
Second of all, I don't own a shotgun...or any firearm, for that matter. I got rid of my guns when I found out they were dangerous and scary. In return, the nice government man gave me a WalMart gift card which I redeemed for a red Snuggie and a bag of caramel apples.
When they come for me, I will bludgeon the jackboots with my teddy bear.
And besides, it's my old lady who got the summons this time.
I did my part. It's her turn.
No word yet whether or not she'll go all Nathan Hale on them downtown.
I kinda doubt she will...but then again, she's pretty pissed right now because the summons is gonna fuck up her Fall Break plans.
Who knows?
She's a lot nicer than I am.
Them's the ones you gotta watch.
1992.
Yours truly, the broadcast legend, on air at WIRE 100.9 FM mono
3000 watt blowtorch, Lebanon, Indiana.
During my shift anyway...the only country music station
to broadcast The Who, Led Zeppelin, and the Rolling Stones.
Weekend
nights, part-time gigs you can pretty much do what you want when nobody
listens...
"WIRE
Country 101" was old school radio.
Housed in an aging, one-story concrete block building near a Farm Bureau Co-Op, the carpeted 'sound-proofed' walls of the broadcast and production studios almost negated the roar of the Terra Gators and other heavy farming machinery that rumbled by every day.
The station had just one consumer grade CD
player, 2 ancient turn-tables, 8-track "cart" machines, and a
reel-to-reel. You can see the vintage analog board. It all worked perfectly.
Usually.
The station signed
off at midnight, and I had to turn off the
transmitter!
I was board operator for Indianapolis Indians baseball. We were their "flagship" station, and we got the play-by-play over the
phone! There was an incident once during a game when I missed a commercial break cue and ended doing make-ups while the play-by-play guy droned on. He got pissed when I told him what I did. That'll teach me to admit my mistakes. If I had kept my mouth shut, he'd had never known.
I was board operator for the 1992 Indy 500 and Colts NFL football games...which were satellite
fed. Wow!
I can remember a time I was reading news copy on air about a local hog farm burning down and the loss of livestock. This is seriously big news in a farming community. Something about the story was worded in such a way that I found it highly amusing, and I started to giggle and laugh uncontrollably. I couldn't stop laughing, and I had to turn the mic off and go to commercial.
I was a bad DJ.
John Dotas was the owner/GM. He was REALLY old school.
Former Korean War Marine, and a great set of pipes (radio voice). A cool guy, and I appreciated the opportunity he gave me,
but he told me he didn't want another "Bob and Tom," and he ignored me
when I told him I wanted to do more for the station.
So I quit. With no notice. On air. At the end of my last shift. Soon thereafter, the studio telephone was ringing off the hook.
I didn't answer it.
Thus
endeth my short-lived radio career.
Radio people are very strange.
