The radio broadcasts I listen to are getting stranger all the time. Sometimes, I can hardly believe my ears:
For example, take the weather report that predicted “It will be a cool, starlet night.”
Sure, in Hollywood, maybe. Or the one that said things would be “cloudy, with a chance of sleep towards morning.”
I’m guessing they have a new baby.
“Judy, don’t you think it’s more likely the announcer said ‘sleet’? And ‘star-lit’?”
“Well, maybe in your universe, you poor thing.”
Instead of reporting sports, one announcer said that “all local proteins are off tonight.” What, not even tofu? It’s going to be a very boring dinner.
“Judy, are you sure he didn’t say ‘all Pro teams’?”
“Well, if he did, it was far from clear.”
Sometimes the underwriters get creative. I keep hearing how “This program was brought to you by the Few Charitable Trusts,” and every time, I think, Yes, the few that remain, because hardly anyone is charitable, any more.
Another time, the program was brought to me by a corporation “in support of creative and defective technology.”
Defective technology? “I’m all for truth in labeling,” I told my husband, “but if their technology is really that bad, should they be bragging about it, on the air?”
“Would it help you, Judy, if they had put the word ‘effective’ first?”
“Oh. I suppose so.”
There have even been pledge gifts involved. “This is the perfect coffee mug,” said the voice, “for weakened addiction listeners.”
“Where do they get off,” I said, “calling it an addiction,when in the next breath they offer me a mug?”
“I think they just mean listeners to Weekend Edition,” said my spouse. “But it could still be yours, if you grew weak from listening to the pledge pitch.”
The news reports are getting stranger, too.
One time, there was an economist, talking about how something or other at pharmaceutical companies amounted to “attacks on the elderly.”
“Attacks on old people?” I said, startled. “Why would they do that? The elderly are their best customers!”
“He’s an economist, Judy,” said my husband. “Don’t you think it’s more likely that he’s talking about ‘a tax’?”
“Well, if that’s what he means, he should say so. Before too many more years are out, we could be elderly ourselves, you know.”
“Yes, and when that faraway day arrives, we might even have trouble understanding things that we hear on the radio,” said my beloved.
“You mean, like when I heard about ‘the animal convention’ of some group in Las Vegas? And you laughed at me and asked what kind of animals I meant?”
“Well, I did think it just a tad more likely that they meant ‘annual,’” he said.
“Or,” I went on, “take the time we both heard that reporter say, ‘There was a blackout in Washington today; the White House and State Injustice departments were affected.’”
“And you almost shattered my eardrum, yelling ‘I knew it! I knew there was a State Injustice Department, I just never thought they’d admit it!’”
I do get a little carried away. And the news isn’t all bad. One time, I heard someone say that the shuttle had launched an X-rated Probe. “X-rated?” I said. “That’s gotta be some probe!”
“It’s for X-rays, Judy, out in space!” But I like my version better.
Just as I prefer my version of the traffic update, when traffic on the parkway was blocked at some underpants. “Just imagine what kind of underpants those could possibly be!” I said.
“I think the word was ‘underpass,’” said my spouse.
“And what about the ads for ‘Incest-tree dot com’? That’s clearly the website for people whose ancestors are just a little too closely related.”
Then there’s the story of the “betting zoo.” “Yes,” said my husband, “I’m sure they’re betting on which animals will survive all the attention.”
“We have time for Tumor questions,” said the moderator, near the end of a program. Too bad no one on the show knew anything about cancer.
Soon, we’ll all be hearing one of my favorite sign-offs, in the upcoming primary season:
“This is So-and-So, reporting from Conquered New Hampshire.” I always think it’s an ironic fate, for a state whose license plates say “Live Free or Die!”
And there’s a moment before the break in almost every broadcast when the announcer says, “We’ll have moron urinalysis, when we return.”
I always wonder if he’s trying to warn me: “Run, moron, run!”
“And what about the ads for “Incest-tree dot com? That’s clearly the website for people whose ancestors are just a little too closely related.”
Then there’s the story of the “betting zoo.” “Yes,” said my husband, “I’m sure they’re betting on which animals will survive all the attention.”
“We have time for Tumor questions,” said the moderator, near the end of a program. Too bad no one on the show knew anything about cancer.
Soon, we’ll all be hearing one of my favorite sign-offs, in the upcoming primary season:
“This is So-and-So, reporting from Conquered New Hampshire.” I always think it’s an ironic fate, for a state whose license plates say “Live Free or Die!”
And there’s a moment before the break in almost every broadcast when the announcer says, “We’ll have moron urinalysis, when we return.”
I always wonder if he’s trying to warn me: “Run, moron, run!”
