Alrighty then:
Face it the days of old-skool, broadcasting is over. When I started, you went into the studio, ALONE, select your music. Lined up the carts, aka cartridge tape machines with the ads your assigned, ripped, and read the latest news and weather. The rest of the night, it was party time. Today, it's having to hire a secondary person to be in the studio or an enclosure. Search YouTube for your music for your show, and forget about local news. Shit, they have someone on a network, in Bulgaria, somewhere doing news. But then you have to get the edit for the graphics done for the video, as with tech as it is, especially online radio, your listeners want to see you, not just hear you. So your secondary co-pilot has to have a bit of eye candy, and window dressing appeal. Oh sure a guy can sit in there with ya'll, but that's too queer, and I don't do queer. I rather like the smell of vagina and vulva, myself, along with the essence of nylons on corn chip smelling pheete.
With all that said, I would not leave radio for any amount of money, or status. Broadcasting especially radio has been damn good to me and I ain't jumping off this flatbed for no one.
So what about Towing and/or Flying? Winter except for serious short days means snow round these parts. Unlike fixed-wing aircraft, helicopters don't like snow, ice, or cold. So it's towing. Although I go out and climb the burning blue when days allow, but shy of that, it's towing. And while I want to be snagging and dragging, fact is LexiBelle, still needs a heart ( Engine) transplant, so she's out of commission, and until I can DRUM up a facility to do fixing of same, as well as, the rest of the fleet, most are still servicing Eastern Utah, Southeastern Idaho, From Malad, Idaho, to Soda Springs, all the way back to Hazzard City, the fleet is a bit tied up right now. So I again do radio when not in the air in the Lady, I'm on the air inside your radio as well as wherever you get your podcasts and Web-based radio.
Now then. On the subject of The Confederate Marines as well as the USMC. The first does act and operate as old skool Marines. The latter? Not so much. Recruitment numbers are low, few want to step in front of a 50-cal shell or fly into harm's way. The Confederate Marines, are always at the ready when the call comes, and despite our ruff and tuff persona our byrds are armed, field, and ready to launch. Here lately more than usual. Our Marine Corps is also a volunteer, outfit as a subsidiary of The AyreWolves Aviation Association. Many join us, but few are accepted. The old slogan the few, the proud goes deep here. When I got my kneecaps smashed into an AV-8's dashboard, I did not retire from the Corps. I just put on a different uniform, BTW was doing PT the other day, it took all I had to do 30 push-ups. I think I need more PT, and that means; Push away from the table.
We as a group/organization, are just about ready to relaunch our station here and all, just waiting on a console. Which I have bought 3 times. Yet for the life of me, UPS/FEDEX can't find for some darn reason 528 County Road in Evanston Wyoming. Shute, It's the same damn plaza as Monkey Shines Car Wash. The taco crappers can find us, yet the delivery people can't find us. Really, one did, couldn't wait till I got off the throne, and left a delivery attempt later note. So they aren't stupid. Again it's not that they don't know, it's that they don't want to know.
Now then; finally. I may be losing it but, everytime that the furnace kicks on, I hear, or think I hear, the intro to StarTrek Next Gen. Could it be that I'm picking up RF from local cable(not the first time I've had that sitch)? Or is it that at times my soul wants to boogey away from here?
Whatever it is; I gotta get a grip. Two last items here: 1: What is that sweat that builds up between your belly and lower regions? You know, your waist? And why does it smell so rotten? Hey, I am into women's pheete and nether regions, but this is really bad. Yes, I do have a dry and warm place, through my office. The office however is not equipped with a shower or tub. And I'll be a Gaul dern Lincolnite if I'll ever go into the Pilot/Flying J, here. Both of them.
What happened? That in my next entry, and tune me in overnight on www.ayrewolffm.net
