I wrote something for Radio-Sweethearts

You should go read it.

Now, this is a task I’m approached with much consternation. I told the R/S kiddies that I wouldn’t go off on one of my obscenity laced tirades about the death of whatever-the-hell. This was a problem since I, at best, am an over-educated one-trick pony that does little else but yell things and drink all the booze in the place. I haven’t posted anything yet because I didn’t know what to post. My reliance on dropping the F-bomb or talking about people’s predilections to mangle their genitalia had paralyzed me.

Then, a ray of light came down from the heaven to help show me the way. Well, not literally. I don’t do those kind of drugs anymore. The ray of light was a phone call from a foul mouthed Southern belle, and the way was a Fresh Air story she was listening to about Joe Shuster’s work on a series of fetish comic books in the 1950s. But this was good, since I was eying a bottle of whiskey at the moment she called and considering getting completely blotto and writing a screed about my man-crush on Kai Ryssdal. (Don’t you judge me.)