Morning Show DJs
The absolute worst fucking part of braving Goodwill for some sweet new blazers and grandpa sweaters: the incessant cranked-up KissFM DJs, tumbling out of the store speakers, yammering on in their suffocating idiocy. Never mind their nasal tones and struggle to read the morning news and traffic reports without stumbling over the big words. Forget their complete lack of a college education and their threadbare grasp of politics, 20th century history, even basic geography. (“Archipelago? I think that’s a type of dictatorship.” ←actual DJ discussion I witnessed.)
No, the truly insufferable aspect of every blubbering, moronic, overly enthusiastic ass-clown with a headset and microphone is that arrogance, that total delight in running contests and getting calls from preteen fans, that sugary glee that comes from listening to themselves speak. Really, the only thing worse than morning show DJs are the stupid motherfuckers who call in. Christ, those who dial in should be fucking flagged for immediate departure to Gitmo. Polluting the radio airwaves is a crime against fucking humanity.
If only every DJ were as awesome as my buds Kasia and Liam. Their show “Pretentious Indie Suckfest,” streamed online at 3 a.m. Thursdays and sometimes illegally downloaded from the web and transmitted over the air as an unlicensed service (the FCC fucking hates that), is the only thing outside my iPod I can stand.
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