thinking chair.
While some thinkers claim that their best ideas and theories are hatched on the porcelain throne, but today I realized that my thinking chair is located behind the wheel of my 2005 Chevy Aveo. Perhaps it is because I spend at least forty hours a week in this chair. Perhaps it's because I am easily distracted from the mundane task that is my morning commute. Or perhaps, it is because of the thought provoking chaos coming from my satellite radio in the form of Howard Stern and company.
While others question Stern's relevance, a few million people are in on what is really happening from 6am to 11am in Studio 69: a compelling, live-action, no-holds barred broadcast of a fish tank containing every imaginable variety of crazy. This is sociology at it's rawest and finest.
It can be argued that Howard's only talent is exploiting social lepers such as Eric The Midget or Sioban (the tranny female in search of a man to punch her new, post-op v-card). Such an argument is transparently baseless and most likely the product of someone who has hear only two or three cumulative hours of the show. The true genius of Howard is his ability to attract such nuts and present them in a non-threatening and entertaining fashion.
Let's face it: the crazies flock to Stern like Drag Queens to a clearance sale at the local Wigs-R-Us.
Crazies like Elegant Elliot Offen; any fan of Howard Stern is already all too familiar with Elegant and his audacious, auspicious, outlandish antics.
I am addicted to listening to anything Elegant has to say, which this morning on my commute was nothing short of vile and obscene. Without going into detail, Elegant is a verbose character whose talent is over-embellishment all aspects of his [severely warped] reality. He cuts up any of his offenders with adjectives delivered in triplicate; and this Crazy is QUICK. Offen has the quickest, albeit misdirected, misquoted, and misogynistic, wit of any comedian in the spotlight. Although at times obnoxious, I still cannot bring myself to change the dial of my Sirius.
This morning, while Elegant was off on a rant about his dramatic 3 million dollar heist, I found myself in the middle of a revelation: Shouldn't I be a sociologist?
I can't get enough of reality TV. I can sit in a coffee shop people-watching for six hours. I gladly pay airline ticket prices just to sit in a terminal and observe human interaction. Damn it, I should be getting paid for this!
...I need to modify the resume.
as an aside:
While others question Stern's relevance, a few million people are in on what is really happening from 6am to 11am in Studio 69: a compelling, live-action, no-holds barred broadcast of a fish tank containing every imaginable variety of crazy. This is sociology at it's rawest and finest.
It can be argued that Howard's only talent is exploiting social lepers such as Eric The Midget or Sioban (the tranny female in search of a man to punch her new, post-op v-card). Such an argument is transparently baseless and most likely the product of someone who has hear only two or three cumulative hours of the show. The true genius of Howard is his ability to attract such nuts and present them in a non-threatening and entertaining fashion.
Let's face it: the crazies flock to Stern like Drag Queens to a clearance sale at the local Wigs-R-Us.
Crazies like Elegant Elliot Offen; any fan of Howard Stern is already all too familiar with Elegant and his audacious, auspicious, outlandish antics.
I am addicted to listening to anything Elegant has to say, which this morning on my commute was nothing short of vile and obscene. Without going into detail, Elegant is a verbose character whose talent is over-embellishment all aspects of his [severely warped] reality. He cuts up any of his offenders with adjectives delivered in triplicate; and this Crazy is QUICK. Offen has the quickest, albeit misdirected, misquoted, and misogynistic, wit of any comedian in the spotlight. Although at times obnoxious, I still cannot bring myself to change the dial of my Sirius.
This morning, while Elegant was off on a rant about his dramatic 3 million dollar heist, I found myself in the middle of a revelation: Shouldn't I be a sociologist?
I can't get enough of reality TV. I can sit in a coffee shop people-watching for six hours. I gladly pay airline ticket prices just to sit in a terminal and observe human interaction. Damn it, I should be getting paid for this!
...I need to modify the resume.
as an aside:
Dear Hot-man-driving-the-blue-BMW-on-the-190N-this-morning-about-8:45,
I am the dude you were checking out in the silver Aveo. And yes, I will have your babies.
Sincerely,
your future ex-husband.
posted by brian. at 9:48 AM
