NPR

NPR, have I told you lately that I love you?


Tuesday I laid on my bed with a headache and turned the radio on. The radio I speak of is a tiny battery operated one that you usually only break out for emergency use. I have not purchased a stereo since I moved, so if I am not listening to Launchcast on my computer, I have no option other than this thing. It doesn't get very many stations, but it does get 90.7 FM. This is the station that plays classical music and it is the local NPR carrier.

Having a headache, this station seemed to be a good choice. The voices of people on NPR are almost always soothing to me for some reason, so I laid there with my eyes closed listening to what was going on in the world.

This afternoon, there was an interview with Bob Dole. I would have never guessed how entertained I could be by Bob Dole. The first thing I learned is that Bob Dole is old. I knew this, but I wasn't fully aware of how old. The man was born in 1923. That is old, particularly for a man that was fairly recently running for president.

But that's not the amusing part. Bob Dole wrote a book - One Soldier's Story. It recounts his time in WWII, and yes, that attractive guy on the cover is actually him. This book is the reason that he was on NPR. The woman interviewing him, however, had other plans. She asked him all sorts of questions about what is taking place in the political arena at the moment, with questions that ranged from the swiftboat campaign to Schiavo and congress. To each question, Dole gave less and less of an opinion and then repeatedly stated, "but I'm not here to talk about that, I'm here to talk about my book." Dole is not one for subtlety. The woman interviewing him would barely acknowledge this statement..."yes, yes, but what about...."

And that is when Dole became very annoyed.

Dole went off on the bias of media, and how if NPR didn't have a liberal slant maybe he could answer her question, and then he went off on The New York Post. It was awesome. In my head I pictured him shaking his fist at her. And then I thought, no, most people perform the shaken fist (a.ka. the spicy meatball) with their right hand, and Dole would realize this and only get angrier. And then he would run around screaming, "Bob Dole is angry! Bob Dole wants to give you "the spicy meatball"!"

And then I felt slightly bad for playing out a silly scenario in my head that involved a man's disability.

But then I forgave myself, because my head hurt, and Bob Dole, for a moment, allowed me to forget about my pain.

Ahhhh....NPR. Good stuff.

Current Mood: TOO tired (I think I MAY have slept 3 hours last night)
Listening to: Wandering by Ben Folds