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Tuesday, August 22, 2006

The Weekly Presidential Radio address + Rebuttal is stupid 

You know what most people weren't doing last week? Sitting around the wireless listening to "The Shadow" with their family. In a sudden and unexpected twist, radio is not the dominate form of public communication. Yet we still pay for the idiotic weekly presidential radio address.

In Denver, it takes place at 8:06 am on Saturday carried on KOA. The rebuttal isn't broadcast in Denver. Before that gets you mad, think of this: "who cares?" Have you ever listened to the WPRA? Have you ever heard more than a paragraph out of it? Maybe a few sentences for the rebuttal?

Why would you even compose an address more than a paragraph long? It makes it much hard for the rebutter, the press is going to pick it's favorite paragraph out of 20 or so if you give a typical address. Why not pick the paragraph for them?

Instead, the president should DJ a 45 minute set of music. It could try and convey the past week and the week ahead in policy, in music. The rebuttal would also be musical. For example, to reflect on the grassroots victory that knocked out Lieberman, they could play Cannibal Corpse.

-Miguel Sanchez  11:09 EST | |

About us:

This weblog is an ongoing, if periodic, effort by several friends to stay in touch, in reading material, and in ideas.

Lucky Luciano is a former Italian Stallion real estate hustler and Benedict Arnold CEO turned shady lawyer-to-be. He lives in Denver.

Ben is a Paramedic and would-be philantropist who lives in Denver. He knows everything about nothing.

Fuzzy Dunlop lives in Manhattan. He is more than capable of standing up to the stresses of a high crime urban environment.

Jess is a teacher. But have YOU given her an apple? No, you haven't. You should be ashamed of yourself. This crazy feminist currently rests her copy of Awakening in Jersey City.

Matt is a pariah, iconoclast, and professor of gambling living in Oakland.

Miguel Sanchez is not Lionel Hutz.

Daddy Brooklyn lives in Brooklyn. He hates Republicans, though he wouldn't mind being ensconced in the landed elite of New York City.

Paul just smoked my eyelids and punched my cigarette.

Ziggy Stardust has no past.

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