There’s a particular event this time of year that allows the opportunity to spread my particular brand of quirkiness/insanity/instability/bizarre behaviour/genius [circle each applicable -- multiple choices are allowed].
I’ve subscribed to public radio stations for a long time but some years ago thought hey, the cats and dogs listen to far much more radio than I do every day — *they* should subscribe! And they did.
Their new membership card for RRR FM arrived today (yep, it’s addressed and delivered to them).
RRR receives a good many animal subscribers during the radiothon so there’s nothing untoward there, but it’s always fun to talk crap with the volunteers who answer the phone:
“So, who’s paying for their subscription?”
“Um, I’ll have to as they’re too young to apply for credit.”
“They don’t have a piggybank?”
“Yes, they do, but they can’t jiggle the rubber seal out of the hole to extract the cash.”
“And which show are they subscribing to?”
“They actually sleep through most of them if truth be told, but this year they really like Systa BB’s show.”
“So a big paws-up to the sister?”
“Ha ha, yeah, I’m supposed to be the funny one.”
All the subscriptions are announced on air, however, in the two hours I hung around the radio waiting, I stepped out for a glass of water in the moment before their names were read out. Spewing. They’ll get their 15 seconds of fame again next year.
Crank-o-meter: rockin’ out