They open their traps, and yap!

When I was a kid, hilarious, countrified songs by Jerry Reed would come out of nowhere and waft out of the radio, in between The Rolling Stones, The Carpenters, Isaac Hayes, and whatever else was on the KHJ Top 30 survey ("Boss" had become passe by this time frame...1971-72). Funny, songs like "When you're hot yer hot," "Amos Moses," and "Alabama Wild Man," appealed to me because they were amusing. Reed's story-fueled records were rich with corn-pone accents, and characters who might easily have been from gene pools close enough to nudge each other at the elbow and ask to pass the grits. I'm pretty certain they missed the mark with my peers, but such was the nature of Top 40 radio, at the time. If it hit the top 40, a novelty hit would be there right next to Neil Diamond and The Staple Singers.

It's the title of one of Jerry Reed's comic send-ups that makes me invoke his name: "Lord Mr. Ford, what have you done?" The song was about air pollution, traffic accidents, all of what motor transport has brought us, despite the convenience of conveyance and the occasional back-seat soiree. I began to think of the title in terms of every other technological breakthrough that's delivered bad along with good. The medium I work in, for example.

Middle-aged Dave is not tuning around looking for funny ditties by the likes of Jerry Reed. And when playing music on the radio is your means of support, you don't go looking for music at all. I listen mostly in the car, and tune around for something that interests me. There's baseball, when in season. Without a local NFL team in greater Los Angeles, there's no local football broadcast that appeals to me (USC's success over the span of this decade has made college football a delight, though).

There is, increasingly, talk. Sports and politics, politics and sports. Regardless of the topic, it's talk. Just talk. Unfortunately for me, most of it is talk with little intelligence, profundity, insight or depth.

What about NPR, you might ask. If you want to be lectured to, and feel educated, how about public radio? Ehhhhh...not so much. I worked at an NPR affiliate just after college. Though there is earnestness, I couldn't get past the fact that all the news and information was disseminated with the delivery of a Kindergarten teacher reading "Dick and Jane," aloud.

That leaves a precious few, three or four hour shows of interest that may amuse or entertain. I'm fairly certain these are shows with listenership so thin, the accumulated audience could be invited over for Cheetos and Beer, during the broadcast.

Somehow, somewhere, sometime when content on the AM band was dying, and the rules and regulations administered by the FCC were loosened, Opinion took a stranglehold on all that was talk on the radio. In the past, commentary had been labled as such, and was pretty much limited to fifteen minute bursts of bombast. Dating back to what seems like the birth of the vacuum tube, a neanderthal like Paul Harvey would ramble during his time period each day, alternately relating his sunshiny homilies, and bemoaning things, like the fact a song called "I shot the Sheriff," was number one in the country. I used to think that had 'Ol Paul (decaying, even in 1974) been around at the advent of bathroom tissue, he'd have decried that real Americans , if they were Americans at all, would continue to use the good old corn cobb to cleanse their nether regions. That's an exaggeration, of course, but it's also how evolved he seemed to be.

The men and women who purveyed talk radio forty years ago, had to work within the limits of neutrality, while guests would take one side or the other. That's, of course, no longer the case. It's one ideology versus the other, with the lion's share of the mouthpieces being of one, vitriolic bent. My unique perspective, with a view from the inside, enables me to understand that as long as this creates ratings and profits, it will not change. That's fair. That's business, that's capitalism, that's American. It's entertainment, though a distressing number of listeners mistake it for news.

It also means, irrespective of topic, sports or politics, any loudmouth with a functioning larynx can wind up with a show. A cavalcade of cretins has emerged to bellow and coo for hours every day. Halitosis of the intellect with a big voice can impress and persuade, rile and incite, peak interest, compel, sell, and sustain the "numbers." Amidst those numbers are intelligent, grounded individuals who "get" the act and laugh, or listen simply to get an idea of what "the other side" is centered on for a particular day.

I don't listen to the political end much, because I find it sad to realize so many who are woefully uninformed, can't cut through the bull and form their own opinions. And I'm one of those who unfortunately allows himself (when my guard is down) to be riled by folks like the bloated beast from the Northeast, a particularly obese blowhard, one with a weakness for...concentrated tablets. Not just him, but a host of angry, verbose, largely uneducated zanies who have proliferated with his success, and replicated into a daily cacophony, all day and most of the night. And they've propagated their species faster than the guys in the NBA.

That leads me to sports. Again, formerly limited to post-game shows, engaging the faithful following some titanic (or less than stellar) team performance, you can now get your fill for 24 hours a day from two national networks, and in some major cities, two locally-manned stations focusing on local teams and sports issues. And, again, there were a couple of guys in particular who patented the 15 minute daily sports show. In 1940's and '50's Los Angeles, it was Bob Kelley, who broadcast "Sports at Six," until his death in 1966. He offered sports, opinion, and barbed shots at his crosstown competition, Sam Balter. One of Kelley's writers, Jim Healy, went on to his own 15 minute show that went from sports reports and opinion to a half hour of hard sports journalism and riotous commentary, laced with drop-ins and wild tracks of sports celebs and other noted figures caught in spontaneous moments. It was hilarious, though Healy was despised by many, he was listen to by millions, including me. He once did a talk show, but he'd never have had the same impact if he had to spread his material out over three hours. His show evolved from about 1970 until April of 1994, when he left the air, and died shortly thereafter.

That sports talk shows make me turn the radio off completely has to do with the template Healy set. By design, the host has to engage, and drag the listener through commercial breaks, and still compel the small percentage of those who will actually pick up the phone and participate. You can't do Healy for three hours.

This is why so much sports talk sounds like a couple of troglodytes full of beer and invective: because their employers demand it. A bunch of guys at the corner bar, belching platitudes and ale, simultaneously popping off and proving themselves intemperate, intolerant, raging dimwits. Add to that the fact that they have to spout political beliefs, sing songs, and sink to all manner of self-delusion outside the realm of sports to soak up three hours, and believe me, the reasons to turn off the radio are many.

It's probably unfair of me to just zero in on the bad and not talk about what I find fun and amusing. There are some great hosts who do appeal to my intelligence. You don't have to agree with their opinion or ideology to be entertained by a talented performer. In Sports, Big Joe McDonnell in Los Angeles is a journalist by trade, who never fails to keep you listening. He's out front with who he likes and dislikes, he doggedly supports his friends, and because he's a sports journalist, aside from his caustic humor, you get meticulously sourced sports news.

Late at night, Ray Taliaferro comes bolting across the ionosphere on KGO, eagerly taking on political hacks who call his show under assumed names, immersing himself in arguments so heated, the actual thought entered my mind that his heart might explode, right there on the air. He's fond of saying he prefers the nether hours, that his show on KGO is four hours, not three, and that he only requires four hours of sleep a day. This may account for his crankiness, but the man's in earnest--he said the following, after jousting some inane insomniac who no doubt wishes everybody not from his general DNA should leave the country, and they are words I wish were mandatory for every host, of every ideology, to reinforce (though they won't, because it would be bad for the bottom line):

"This is not the news. Use different sources--READ! Read newspapers, magazines, and other places to get your news, and try to separate it from supposition and opinion. O-PIN-ION!"

Unfortunately, for some, that would be like drawing back the curtain on the Wizard of Oz to find a guy who looks like the Janitor on "Scrubs," eating a donut and clipping his nails with mixed success.