It’s voting day.
Get off your butt and vote.
Why? I’ll give you two reasons, and if you spend a few moments thinking about it, I’m sure you can think of more.
First, ever wonder why everybody on television is talking about financing prescription drugs rather than anything you care about?
It’s easy.
Politicians want votes.
Old people vote.
Thus, old people get whatever the hell they want.
Score: grandma = 1, you = -1 (After all, what grandma wants comes out of your taxes too.)
Second, we are at war.
As much as we love our grandmas, they aren’t going to be the ones shipped off to fight ever-elusive terrorism.
We are.
Let’s not let Granny decide whether or not we want ourselves or our friends shipped off to bomb the crap out of anyone.
OK, enough of my go vote lecture for one day.
You guys have been getting this spiel for at least a week.
Just ovary up and do it.
Speaking of ovaries, I co-host a women’s music show Sundays at 7 a.m. on KLSU called “Girls on Top.”
I like to think we provide a sort of antithesis to the “cock rock” one can hear at any given time on other local stations.
But, apparently one guy got the wrong idea about our mission.
He thought we were a 900 number.
Fortunately, I didn’t answer the phone, because I probably would have taped his little escapade, taken his number and turned his sorry butt over to our angry Ani-fan listeners.
I don’t know whether or not you folks have been on the receiving end of a masturbatory phone call, but it involves a lot of heavy breathing and strange slapping sounds.
My poor co-host thought the guy had a nasal blockage or something.
Then he made some lecherous comment like, “Your voice makes me so …” at which point she hung up.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for safe sex, and sex doesn’t get much safer than when it involves a party of one.
So, props to this guy for being health conscious.
At the same time, I’m all about phone etiquette, and forcing your personal pants party on two innocent people at work breaks the rules of common courtesy.
Now, I don’t know what the heck possessed this guy to call us while pleasuring himself at 7 a.m., but it kind of ticked me off.
I don’t know if anyone sounds particularly “sexy” at 7 a.m. anyway.
Now, maybe if the show were “Delilah After Dark” and we played “Tonight, I Celebrate My Love” eight times an hour, I would expect sad, lonely people to give us a jingle when they get that tingle.
But, we aren’t, and we don’t.
So, sad guy, be sure to listen next week, when we dedicate Fiona Apple’s “Limp” as our special wish for you.
Be sure you listen hard to the part that goes, “It won’t be long till you’ll be / Lying limp in your own hand.”