NPR

Either I'm getting old, or NPR recently got REALLY cool.  I'm a long-time listener of National Public Radio (and a first time caller, shit), and I've always found it stimulating and informative.  However, my overall impression of NPR is that its main target audience is comprised of people who drive Volvos, hold advanced degrees, and wear turtlenecks.  I drive a Honda, the confines of a turtleneck make me feel nauseous (but I love scarves?), and I am unemployed despite my advanced degree.  Thus, I have always thought of NPR as my dirty little secret.  Not quite a guilty pleasure, but just something that wasn't really intended for me, sort of like when I was fourteen and hurried home from school to watch Oprah.

Recently, though, I've started to feel like NPR is playing a little bit more towards my sensibilities.  I don't know if it's me or NPR that has changed, or if we are simply growing more in sync like longtime lovers.  This afternoon, they aired an All Things Considered interview with Danny DeVito about his work on It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.  I don't think your average Volvo driving, turtleneck wearing, respectable job having listener watches Danny DeVito eat garbage, cut his toenails with a steak knife, or drink wine out of a soda can.  No, sir.  That interview was for people like me.  People who are down with absurdity because, we, ourselves, are one more personal failure away from complete nihilism.

Then they awesomed it up another couple of notches.  I've been recognizing and approving of a lot of the song snippets they play between segments.  Today, however, I got absurdly excited when (just a few minutes after the Danny DeVito interview) they played "Holy Sh*t!" by Against Me!.  I mean, it's hard not to get excited by a band that so freely appends exclamation points to things, but still, I heard the first chord and thought "Damn, someone at NPR is really doing something right."

Also, there's a host on Northwest Public Radio whose name I swore, for the longest time, was Tom Cocaine.  I'm so sorry I checked into it, because the reality just isn't very exciting.  His name is actually Tom Kokenge.  I wish I could pretend I never saw that, but there are just some things you can't unsee.  Like the huge-titted woman hanging out, spread-eagled, in a centerfold in a magazine you weren't supposed to find.  When you're seven, that shit is SCARY.  Sorry, this post was supposed to be about NPR, but I have a lot of feelings.