I'll spare the blow-by-blow. Suffice to say Your Sister didn't think it was funny, and we threw down on comedy, intention vs. reception, satire vs. propaganda, and media commentary.
I don't think I'm an odd duck for listening to conservative radio. It amuses me. I laugh at it. Not with. At. Your Sis can't stomach it; she's repulsed by the image of the fringe zealous audiences. She's unable to mock the hosts. Me, I live for it. We agree that nothing deflates the earnest diatribe like laughter. And I truly find the crap singing from my radio rib-tickling. The local preacher who uses his daily Prayer Time show to rant about communists and environmentalists? Hysterical. Limbaugh continuing to claim that the Bush Administration failed because of a shadow government of ex-Soviets employed by the Clintons? A hoot. Michael Savage claiming Iranians set the California fires just a year after he said Al Qaeda did the same? This is better than primetime sitcoms.
Your Sis screams with rage. I scream with laughter. We're wired differently. But we went to bed after a truce, and that's all that matters.
I've read my 34th script, and I'm desperate to pick up a novel. Suddenly there are piles of books I'd rather read. There's a new Chuck Palahniuk out there. Somewhere. Lost in the wildnerness.
Picture of the Day
Still dying to see the new Batman film.