My NPR station had yet another pledge drive recently. I've been expecting the station manager and the program director to offer the next call-in contributor, "money for nothing and chicks for free" instead of a mug or a tote bag.
Now that ain't workin',
that's the way you do it
Lemme tell ya, them guys ain't dumb
Maybe get a blister on your little finger
Maybe get a blister on your thumb
I'm sure the station is in dire straits, and needs my contribution, but the seemingly endless pledge drives have gotten so annoying that I am repulsed instead of seduced. Thank heaven a dearly demented friend loaned me some wonderful cds so I could be radio-free on my commutes:
Jacqueline du Pre A Lasting Impression
Tchaikovsky's Sixth Symphony
*Carl Orff's Carmina Burana
President Bush is obviously trying to undermine support for NPR by announcing his nomination of "Harry" Miers to the Supreme Court just before the station pledge drive began, and announcing his nomination of Samuel Alito just after it ended. That adds up to six weeks of legal affairs correspondent Nina Totenberg and White House correspondent Don Gonyea, with the station manager and the program director, hammering, hammering, hammering on my aggravated autumnal allergy sinuses for a week in the middle.
*Where else can you hear a tenor singing the role of a roasting swan?
12. Cignus ustus cantat (The Roast Swan)
Tenor)
Once I lived on lakes,
once I looked beautiful
when I was a swan.
Male chorus)
Misery me!
Now black
and roasting fiercely!
(Tenor)
The servant is turning me on the spit;
I am burning fiercely on the pyre:
the steward now serves me up.
(Male Chorus)
Misery me!
Now black
and roasting fiercely!
Reminds me of roasting bagworms, no doubt also sung by tenors:
We had mind-blowing infestations on all the bushes in our yard in my impressionable junior high years. My anti-chemical/fiscally strapped dad sent all his natural born children out to pluck the hideous things off the junipers. When we got a good coffee-canful of bagworms, we would roast them in the charcoal grill. The bagworms would emerge from their bags and writhe, but refuse to die. On the good side, I got to take my transistor radio with the earphone out on these shock and awe operations, tuned to KLMS 1490 AM. "Last Train to Clarksville", "Georgie Girl", "To Sir With Love..."
...Alas, we still have bagworms in the Bushes.
Just rereading the disgust and frustration in that Oct. 23, 2003 blog post. I suspect it was written during NPR pledge drive season.
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