All of this George Blows and The New Coast Orally Services Satan--all of which I agree with--begs the question: So why do we listen? Why do we even go to the trouble to create sites like this? I have a few thoughts, add yours as you see fit. If they don't fit, use a little I Can't Believe It's Not Butter, that should do it.
First, we all listened for many years when Art was Commander in Briefs. I mean Chief. His deep rumbling voice, his ability, as we lay in the dark half-awake, half-asleep, to take us off to the Land of Nye, became the centerpiece not merely of our daily lives, but of our very minds. This remarkable man created a space in our heads, a theater of the mind which happily tip-toed between truth and fantasy, earth and imagination. There was nothing like it. We were not devotees of some talk show. We were citizens of a far off land.
And then it all ended. With one swell foop. Our homeland was swallowed by the sea. The door to wonderland was plastered over, sealed off forever.
Since then, we have been like Adam and Eve cast out of Eden, condemned to walk the hapless, feckless shores of a sickly, perverted parody of our former home, one presided over by scoundrels and dullards.
Poignant as it is, each night our hands move not of our volition but as if pulled by marionette strings, as we dial in to listen, listen in the vain hope of catching a tiny fragment of the old stardust in our palm.
Even as we know it will never happen. We cannot stop trying, though, and, perhaps more to the point, cannot stop hoping that someone or something will rescue our ship and set it back on course to Nye.
Besides, what the hell else are we going to listen to? Dr. Laura?
M