WHEN LAST WE LEFT OUR HERO, or "They Fired My Ass!"

'Tis true, they did. When I posted my last entry, it was a Sunday night, and I pretty much knew someone at the radio concern that employed me for 13 and a half years would be dispatched. The organization was going to wring itself like a bib sopping with fluid, and squeeze out one selected member of the air staff. It made sense to me that some reason would be made to expunge the overnight guy. So it was, so it shall be. On February 7, they did.

Now, I did not want to use this blog as a platform for whatever was running through my mind at the time. These emotions never look good in print after they've been poured forth. The whole idea of writing on the web was so that I could express the humor or observations I never could over the air. Being funny is more fun than heaping abuse upon those who have vexed you. Since I couldn't make the situation amusing without devastating insults, the kind that sting like a ripened pimple on one's gluteal cheeks, I chose not to write.

But I'm back. I still work three weekend shifts, but the severance checks have been cashed, and though I would never do or say anything to damage my professional reputation, I am searching for someplace new to ply my trade. Like all businesses where talent is judged, Radio is subjective. What's funny to one employer is not to another. Who's talented to one department head is not to another. Cronyism, nepotism, favoritism, specifics carved out by Federal mandate, and just plain, old, taste in personalities prevails. With patience and a good deal of luck, I'll find another outlet, and realize the goal I've worked for, lo these many years.

Slowly, I've become grateful to not work four overnight shifts. It's a brutal and unappreciated endeavor. Many are the slights that come along with it. No matter what the spin is, it's usually a place where they "stick" someone. I still do Saturday mornings, 12-6am, but it's for the cash alone. Doing overnight shifts on the radio takes a person of hearty stock, physically and mentally. The phone calls alone demand an education far beyond my Bachelor of Arts from Long Beach State. All night, the deeply disturbed reach for the phone as their connection to humanity. Not so much to request music, but to unload some sort of pathetic minutiae on another set of ears. I call it looking for cheap therapy from the disembodied voice coming out of that speaker. In truth, some calls did come from the institutionalized, but if the call wasn't from Britney Spears, I had no use for it. I was polite, to the point, and moved on. The minute the conversation starts, you can expect a nightly call that will take your attention away from your job, because this is a person not listening to the radio, just looking for a someone to trap into a lengthy chat.

Then there are the drunks. I dealt with a lot. Not as many as police officers, bartenders or hospital nurses (also up all night for the purpose of making a living), but enough. One alcohol soaked drinker-and-dialer yapped on and on that he baby-sat for the Jackson Five, back in Gary, Indiana. Come to think of it, that would explain a lot!!

To put a lid on the subject, over the two and a half years I was painted into that dead-end in order to make a living, I did enjoy hearing from those who were working. Taxi company, blood lab, newspaper, hospital workers, etc. They never called a lot because they were otherwise engaged, but it was nice to know that every now and then when you answered the request line, it didn't necessarily have to be an ad for anti-mania drugs.

SO...WHAT DO YOU DO ALL DAY?

Looking for a full time radio job IS a job. I've edited hours of "airchecks" (a radio word for recordings of old shows), and with the help of Mike Stark, another Long Beach State, KSUL vet, I've put up a site unconnected to this one, with audio, video, and photos from my career. You can view all this at http://www.daverandallradio.com/. It's a great way to expose one's talents to prospective employers. For now, it's posted via My Space, which accounts for the half-naked babe who wanted to sign up as a friend. I allowed the sign up, and the next thing I knew, there was a picture of this gal's shapely buns, getting dollar bills shoved into the dental floss that masqueraded as her G-string.

Uh...I don't think she's a potential employer. Because spitzer is not my name (but probably something she does) I deleted her. The site's for professional purposes. Boy, am I no fun, these days!

That leads me to what else I do, besides catching up with friend and family I've been out of personal contact with when I had to make an attempt at sleep, all day: I read, and keep up with the Presidential race.

I'll save the meat of my commentary for another, more thought out time. I can tell you this: Chris Matthews is the only person on television who requires a sneeze guard. He gets as worked up as a a ten-year-old that's gotten into a bag of brown sugar, and the spit starts to fly. Sometimes, as he steamrollers guests and colleagues alike, his state becomes so high pitched and agitated it sounds like this: HEEEEEEEMEEEEEEENEEEEMEEEEHEEEEEEEMEENEEEEMEEEE!SPITZER!WHORES!HOOKERS!HARDBALL. WE'LL BE RIGHT BACK!!

I've noticed he's a bit more sedate when he offers his analysis as a guest on MSNBC's "Morning Joe," hosted by the smug former Florida Congressman Joe Scarborough, and the delicious Mika Brezhenski (daughter of former National Security Advisor Zbigniew), late of CBS News, having bailed out, along with many after Cutie Katie made a Tea Party of the CBS Evening News*. When I have to be up that early, I'll tune in until Joe and Pat Buchanan make my morning toast indigestible. Mika saves the day. With her family pedigree, her intelligence is a given, but, as Letterman often says, she's also "easy on the eyes." I chose to be a disc jockey and often wondered why women like Mika never fell into my existence. These are the things you ponder after a few years toiling in the bowels of the night.

Then there's Keith Olberman, who has morphed from the snarky sports guy who worked at KTLA and KCBS-TV in Los Angeles 20 years ago, and into the only non-right leaning host on TV who's both compelling and funny. Surely the only one with the avocado-like testes to call-out the sitting President on TV, and do likewise with the Clintons. Outside of Keith, you just don't see that. He must have a wheelbarrow preceding him when he walks the streets of Manhattan...either that or everyone else on cable or network TV (on an outlet that provides BOTH points of view) simply has no courage.

As this street-fight of a Presidential race continues--and it's only March--I'll offer some snarky comments of my own. After all, my mind is clear, 'cause I'm sleeping more.

*look for the future posting of an unsold article about the CBS Evening News, one I wrote four or five years ago The New Yorker and Parade Magazine turned it down, and rightfully so. It's more memoir than article, all about growing up watching the newscast, and it's impact on me.