So last week, Howard Stern dropped the "bombshell" (I use quotation marks since it's been expected for some time) that a committee in the House of Representatives has OK'd a bill that gives the FCC the power to fine individual broadcasters up to $500,000 per offense for crude or indecent content on the public airwaves. The bill passed by a margin of 42-2.

This is gonna be an angry one. Strap in.

I tell ya, this really pisses me off to no end. I cannot believe the government is this up in arms about indecency. It's such a ridiculous, absurd thing to harp on when there are infinitely larger problems at hand.

And yeah, I'm biased as all hell because of my background in radio. If they were cracking down on everyone this bad when I was in college, I'm not so sure I would've gotten those 12 collective months at WSPN under my belt. I don't even think I would've considered it.

Because I wouldn't have had any fun.

People ask me quite frequently if I ever consider returning to radio as a full time career. I suppose it's because I wax poetically about it ad nauseum, but the answer is always an emphatic "no." Why? Three reasons.

1) It is incredibly difficult to get by with a career in radio, no matter how talented you are. I know, there are some guys out there who rake in millions of dollars. But those guys, the Howard Sterns and Don Imuseseses of the world, represent a very slim sample of the entire broadcasting population. They are in the top one percent of all radio personalities, and it took them more than 20 years to reach their respective pinnacles.

The fact is that they and every other schlep in the business got their start by breaking their balls on the weekly overnight. From Monday through Friday, they earned their wings by broadcasting at hours even Dracula and hookers think are nuts. I'm talking from midnight 'til 6 in the morning. This is where you start. And if you miraculously manage to weather that task for, oh, 3-7 years, you may get bumped up to one of two prime drive spots: from 3-6 in the afternoon or from 6-10 in the morning. That's when everyone is listening, really. That also happens to be where the heaviest competition is, especially in the morning. Stations fight for ratings like kids from a fat camp on a field trip to the Hostess factory on a day when they're passing out free samples.

But if you're lucky, you may become one of the top morning guys in the county or state, and even that's a big "if." I'd say on average, the typical radio DJ can't make much more than $20,000 a year, if that. In a nutshell, it's ten times the ladder you'd have to climb in the corporate world.

2) The world of broadcasting has become almost entirely engulfed by the corporate machine. This has killed any legitimate exposure for budding artists through this once-great medium, and has also killed all the fun. Big conglomerates like Clear Channel really do make a difference as far as what gets put on the air. And it's sad, because there's so much truly great music out there that goes completely unheard. I'm amazed that smaller bands such as Thursday, Wilco and Franz Ferdinand have been able to make as much of an impact as they have in a world chuck foll of Matchbox 20's and Sugar Ray's. But they're still a small percentage of the overwhelming number of bands that don't receive adequate exposure.

I heard an ad on K-Rock earlier this week with Hoobastank in which they wax sappy about their root, saying that before all the huge sellout concerts and platinum albums, you heard them on the radio. The only reason that's accurate is because their sound is streamlined to the point where the suits are just comfy enough with them as a hard rock act. You rarely hear a band like, say, From Autumn To Ashes get the kind of airtime Hoobastank does, because FATA is infinitely harder and more aggressive than Hoobastank. There's no longer the element of surprise in radio; the deck has been fixed for a long time, and we're forced to deal with the shitty cards we're dealt.

3) The FCC has a brutal vice grip on the entire industry. In fact, the aforementioned conglomerates are bending over backwards to avoid being fined, resulting in even more lukewarm airplay. Not only are the companies backing down, but with this new legislation against individual broadcasters on the horizon, on-air personalities are now raising the white flag as well. That's the saddest part for me. No one, save Howard, is really making an effort to buck the system and stand up to the FCC. I understand it's hard to fight the government--nigh impossible, if you will. Nevertheless, these DJ's are so petrified, they won't even mention those three cursed consonants on the air. This reticent surrender leads to... you guessed it. More piss poor broadcasts.

Y'know, I've always had issues with the FCC. The only time I think I've ever agreed with them is during last year's SuperBowl fiasco (I refuse to use the term "wardrobe malfunction" like every other shmuck with a mic), because yeah, that incident was uncalled for and inappropriate. I'll give you that.

It was also an isolated incident. One that has never happened before. Be that as it may, the FCC treated the situation like an omen of things to come. To them, Janet Jackson's breast offered poison milk that would impact our impressionable youth, corrupt us, and lead to vulgar, violent, promiscuous behavior across the nation.

Gimme a fuckin' break.

This is where I draw the line with the FCC. I give 'em credit for investigating, but for treating the incident like it was a riot or coup d’etat is outta line. Moreover, they're handling the incident as if they were crossing a minefield.

Two perfect examples. This year, there were two commercials for the SuperBowl that were slated to air. However, things changed quickly.

First off, there was a Bud Light commercial which made light of last year's halftime show. Apparently, there's this one thirsty cat backstage at last year's sporting extravaganza, and he has a hankerin' for some Bud Light. However, not having a bottle opener handy, he uses Janet Jackson's bustier to get that pesky cap off his brew. In doing so, he damages the clothing, and even the most inept genetic defective can pick up on what is being implied.

The other ad that got cut up just before getting the axe was the immensely popular GoDaddy.com ad featuring Candice Michelle. This one is not as overt as the banned Bud Light ad, but it features the strap to Candice's top snapping, and her struggling to keep it on. The three noteworthy things about this ad are that to begin with, the term "wardrobe malfunction" (God, how I hate that phrase...) was initially included in the dialogue, but ultimately removed. Secondly, the ad was slated to run twice during the 'Bowl, but only made the rounds once early in the first quarter. Lastly, the ad has now been pulled from the airwaves altogether.

A word of advice to the FCC: you cannot undo that which is already done. It happened, it was nuts, move on. Chopping up ads that simply try to parody the incident is not going to mystically remove it from television history.

As if my recommendation would make a lick of difference, right? That disgusting, formless, saggy boob has given the FCC a leg to stand on and a loaded gun. The only problem is that their aim is not focused, and they're shooting a lot of innocent bystanders. How do you fine Howard Stern for something he did three or four years ago because Janet Jackson had to be a shameless publicity whore? Nearly a year after the massive fines began to hit, I still don't get it.

Of course, it's not just Howard who's at risk. Pretty much anyone broadcasting at a few thousand watts is dead set in the FCC's crosshairs, and that's the scary part for so many folks in the industry. Being a DJ used to be fun, but now many broadcasters will tell you that they risk career suicide every time they put on a pair of headphones. From what I understand, this new piece of fascist dogm--I mean, legislation, doesn't even offer lenience in the way of extenuating circumstances. In short, if a DJ is on the air, and someone alls up, says "fuck," and it somehow makes it onto the air because the button-pushers aren't fast enough to bleep it, that DJ is at fault, not the caller.

If'n that ain't exquisite bullshit, I don't know what is.

So with this mountain of insanity and irrationality the FCC is making everyone climb, it's easy to see why I would never consider getting back into radio. Don't get me wrong, under nominal circumstances, I'd love to get back in the game. Hell, with Internet radio still around and the advent of Podcasting, who's to say I won't some day? But for right now, terrestrial radio is, as Howard Stern puts it, dead. Period. You can't tell me otherwise. With the exception of college radio and satellite, the art form has been completely demolished. This is why Howard is going to SIRIUS satellite radio, and you know what? Good for fuckin' him. I love it. You'd better believe I'm saving my pennies for my SIRIUS setup. And no, Howard is not the sole reason I'm getting one. I've listened to the product before, and the range of programming is absolutely fantastic. It's all the great stuff you won't hear on contemporary FM, minus the commercials. Stern is smart to get behind this, and I'm fairly certain that in due time, more and more radio personalities will follow hot on his heels. See, because it's a service that the people pay for, the FCC can't touch it. As long as SIRIUS charges a monthly fee, it is completely exempt from any sort of fines. For reference, just look at what HBO can get away with as opposed to basic cable networks.

Look, I'm not gonna twist this into an over-the-top political rant, but I will say that as a former on-air DJ and fulltime radio enthusiast, this legislation is a slap in the face of free speech and the First Amendment. You cannot argue that. The FCC is basically trying to amend an amendment, and that's just plain stupid. Certain government bodies have been lobbying to restrict forms of free speech for years now. Remember when Mortal Kombat came out and all of a sudden Congress was trying to stifle video games? Going back even further, there's the Parent's Music Resource Center, which came up with those wonderfully lame and completely ineffective "Parental Advisory" stickers. (And to all my Republican friends who label me too liberal, the PMRC happened to be founded by Tipper Gore, wife of a Democrat. And political party notwithstanding, I still think it's a bunch of horseshit. Now could you kindly get off my case, already? Thank you.)

This may seem miniscule at this point in time, but to me, it's always about the grand scheme of things. This sort of thing worries me in that it has the potential to set a nasty precedent. It may start with radio and television, but where will it stop? Music? Cinema? Art? Literature? Hell, I've already gone into detail about that *ahem* wonderfully progressive library in Mississippi that pulled the Daily Show book. You don't have to stretch things to see how this could snowball into societal censorship.

And yeah, maybe I do have a small problem with authority which leads me to these opinions. But more so, I have a strong appreciation for freedom of expression and ideas. And believe me, not every attack on free speech involves Larry Flint or Howard Stern. There are many more that go unnoticed because the victims are of a much smaller public stature than the aforementioned "smut moguls." Be that as it may, not every attack has to involve free speech of a sexual nature.

The sad thing is that with this much momentum following "nipplegate" (another term I loathe), the FCC doesn't look to be letting up anytime soon. And while it's great that Stern is giving them a nice big "fuck you" by going to satellite where he can't be touched, it's a shame that people should have to pay for free speech.

Only in America, folks.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

Looking back on what I wrote in November, I honestly never would've expected this type of story just a few months later.

I'm sure you've seen the Zoloft ads on television, probably even in Parade or Reader's Digest. You know, the ones with the little egg guy that's so horribly sad and has an ever-constant rain cloud hovering just above him. Then the second the narrator utters the word "Zoloft," the sun pops out, eradicates the mini-storm and illuminates the sky while flowers bloom. With that, our Eeyore-esque little egg dude then magically cheers up and joins a pack of other egg dudes that are already frolicking among daisies and butterflies.

If only things could be that picture-perfect in real life, huh?

For the uninitiated and uniformed, Zoloft is on the bottom rung of the antidepressant food chain. This is evident by the fact that commercials for the drug permeate the public airwaves during prime time along with advertising mainstays like Coca-Cola and FedEx. I don't recall ever seeing a TV ad for anything more potent (although I'm fairly certain I've heard radio ads for Zoloft's older cousins).

Having said that, this story simultaneously relieves and scares me. I'm relieved that I stopped taking the stuff after depending on it for so long, and I'm scared by the possibility that such a mild drug could cause such irrational behavior. THink about it... if this is one of the side effects brought about by Zoloft, imagine what could happen to someone on a much stronger medication like Wellbutrin?

Now I will say this much: this incident is in the minority. This sort of thing is not a regular episode for someone taking antidepressants, and thus is something of a freak occurrence. This is the sort of thing that both the pharmaceutical companies and their attorneys would argue, and you know something? They're right.

However, I can testify as someone who took Zoloft for a year straight that the drug isn't the blessing that Pfizer's creative department would have you believe. Being on the stuff is no walk in the park. To recap, while I was on the medication, I did begin to feel better as time passed. But with that improvement, other frightening negatives became obvious. I lacked enthusiasm, was listless, argumentative, anti-social, and completely sapped of my energy. I stayed in more than I would like to admit, had little drive, gained weight, and never really felt much more than just "eh."

That last point is the one I would really like to drive home. See, when you're depressed, you feel miserable 24/7. You feel as if nothing is worth doing, and the few things you do have no true relevance in the grand scheme of things. When you're medicated, you feel nothing. You feel no plummeting lows, nor the dizzying highs. You fail to appreciate people, places, events, and the biggest drawback is that the drive to improve yourself, the very same motivation that led you to seeking help in the first place, is now replaced by this hollow attitude with no real soul.

You become something slightly less than human.

In short, the drug really doesn't help you, so much as it distills you. It washes away your emotions, both good and bad, and you're left with little to work on and seemingly nowhere to go.

Couple that with the fact that every time you get your daily RX fix, you run the risk of dozens of side effects (including potentially painful and dangerous ones), you have to ask yourself if it's really worth it.

I suppose to some it is. I've no doubts about the fact that there are plenty of folks out there who are in deeper emotional ruts than I could ever fathom. I suppose that to the truly unstable, no emotion is better than constant despair. But I still insist that the medical community pursue alternate methods of therapy. I was skeptical prior to taking Zoloft, and with this latest affair, I'm suspect of it as well. And that goes for all antidepressants, weak or strong. I simply do not beleive in them, and I do not trust them.

The short, fast, ugly summation is that antidepressants, for the most part, do little to correct psychological disorders. They do a damn fine job of masking them, but they don't llend much in terms of solving them. Actual therapy is a good start, and the range of theoretical alternatives is endless. Simply put, it's high time the medical community quit thinking about lining its pockets with dollars per milligram, and start conducting some truly thoughtful research on what could be.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

There is something I was brought up with as a child that I am starting to doubt. When you’re a kid, this is one of the basic cornerstones of your intellectual cache. From the time you hit Kindergarten, you’re inundated with this fucker, and they plow away at your skull with it. Now, I’m not so certain that this is still a schoolyard mainstay. After all, it’s been more than 20 years sine I started grade school, but I highly doubt they’ve nixed the bastard yet.

Whatever could I be talking about, you ask? The answer can be summed up in five words:

The four basic food groups.

Folks, if ever there were a crock of shit to gag on, this would be it. I tells ya, it’s downright disheartening to know that the moment your education begins, you’re lied to.

First off, there are plenty of other food groups that are not included. Candy and sweets is the first one that comes to mind. You never saw Baby Ruth in that lame-ass food pyramid, did you? And what about crayons? Sure, they’re not foodstuffs per se, but when you’re a young’n, they certainly provide adequate sustenance in extreme survival scenarios. As does paste, but I suppose you could stretch that out into the dairy category. Maybe. And what about astronaut food? Where is that supposed to be cataloged? Not in meat or veggies, that’s for damn sure. Then there’s flan. And Spam. Sure, Spam is a kind of meat, but it really isn’t meat-meat, now is it? I think Spam deserves a quadrant all by itself in that goofy pyramid.

Not only that, but they trying telling you this thing is the blueprint for a balanced diet. Spare me. You’re telling me that if I have at least one helping of meat, fruits/veggies, dairy and grains per day, I will be leading a balanced diet.

Balderdash!

I’m not claiming to be a genius or anything here, but I was maybe 8 or 9 years old when I realized that each of these items is in a fucking Big Mac. Two (supposedly) all-beef patties (meat), the triple-decker bun (grains), lettuce, tomato (fruits and veggies), and cheese (dairy).

That is not a motherfreakin’ balanced diet! That is the sort of thing you eat in large quantities when you have a death wish, but want to go happily and heftily, OK?

And now with all this uproar over carbs, the existing battle with calories, and the never-ending string of low-fat alternatives, this so-called “food pyramid” may as well have been blown up by a Palestinian suicide bomber with Tourette’s. It’s archaic, pointless, and needs to be chucked (if it already hasn’t).

So what can you tell kids who are curious about eating healthy?

“Stick to that paste, Elroy. It worked wonders for me.”

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.