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" I can't tell when you're telling me the truth."
- I'm not.
"How do I know anything you've told me is..."
- You don't.
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Overslept, hungover, got here late, no coffee, no food, pounding headache, can't see, sound hurts, hate music -- that is to say, the Ultimate Cocktail for Radio Nightmare. And here's how this one came true...
Every speaker-phone in the house (and that's a lot) is blaring the sound of Nachum Segal's voice, and it says "IF THERE'S ANYBODY IN THE BUILDING, ANYBODY AT ALL, PLEASE COME AT ONCE TO STUDIO A, WHERE I AM CURRENTLY TRAPPED PLAYING A SAXOPHONE SOLO, BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW THE FIRST THING ABOUT THIS 'FREEFORM' BUSINESS, AND I'M ALL OUT OF DUSTY SPRINGFIELD -- SO HELP A BROTHER OUT AND COME DO A RADIO SHOW PRONTO!!! ANYBODY, I'M BEGGING YOU"
Too blank to realize I was completely unprepared and potentially unfit for the radio, I nobly swooped in & swept up the Fair Nachum -- and played a bunch of crappy mp3s all in a row, I think one of 'em was by Stereolab. Ken likes them, right?
Then Brave Sir Lupicalot showed up & saved the day with the mighty words:
"How 'bout a Traktor Remix?"
That's why we call him Mike Lupica - totally genius moves like that, and you'd get a good nickname too!
So here's two haggard & uncaffeinated, half-blind, accountability-damning dorks executing what amounts to the radio equivalent of pissing all over the boss's shoes -- with a firehose.
Sorry Ken... we had fun.
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