Wednesday, August 31, 2011

I'm so ready to be left behind...

Jokingly I laugh when I tell people I know where Montana is I just don’t know how to get there. Tap it into Map Quest and the journey will have me taking a right at the tracks six miles outside of Vegas.



Sad is when the grocery store checkout computer agrees to give you 25% off but only if you scan a VIP card…if not available type in your phone number but you can’t remember it or any other because its #5 or #3 in the cell phone.



Spell check killed the dictionary. We spend what little we make with an ATM card then physical cash. Why should being on time carry importance when the television DVR caters to procrastination?



Yet science refuses to create a battery that keeps a buzz longer than two late night shots of handcrafted Van Halen Cabo Wabo tequila.



Maybe we shouldn’t be upset about Wall Street constantly crashing. Today’s banking and housing failures are the last of the true reality warriors. Without trips, unexpected burps and bad smelling farts the only thing we’ve got is imperfection.



How dare I touch that subject! It’s 100% against the rules of nature to tread the waters of something that could easily fit under the politically correct umbrella.



Seriously, whatever happened to leaving the weak behind? I’d be the first tossed off the freight train because without the digital devices that have made sorting things out easier…I’m a boob.



The Kindle and Nook killed bookstores and libraries! Skype visually paints images of family, friends and business partners without having to wear pants. IPhones, Blackberry’s and Droids tsunami-ed middle of the day stuck in traffic car radio listening.



Can we safely use the word evolution?



Thanks to texting and Nintendo; inside 50 years I envision human children having extremely large thumbs. There’s no need for fingers, thanks to a digital Google hookup a compact will soon drive you to the mall and if you’re a Corporate American boss you’ve already got 20 people doing everything for you.



How is my 72 year old Mother going to survive? She’s still typing on a non-electric gadget and the kitchen phone features a rotary wheel of numbers. They put wood in the potbelly stove to keep warm while storing potatoes, beets, corn, canned beans, sauerkraut and jelly in something called a cellar.



I can’t keep a fricken banana from turning black twenty minutes after purchasing it!



Radio interns stop in my studio everyday…created is a fake laugh when I’m forced to explain how cueing up a 45 required a quarter turn back and a full turn for albums. Cross fade, segue, punch edit, grease pencil, cart and overnight on-air talent are items that no longer exist. Oops forgot one…dedication.



The evolution of radio in my thirty two years of interrupting your favorite songs has grown into an art form that no longer requires the soul…for what we do is what we’re told then it’s passed to you. Because radio isn’t interested in creating thoughts that involve you tomorrow’s leaders aren’t being trained to communicate one on one to their staff.



More work…less talk.



Here comes another classic set of rules to brighten up your gray cubical.



That was Johnny Bravo from the head office, coming up next its Brenda Bean Counter who’ll kick off another 25 reasons why you should quit your job.



Its 60 minutes of uninterrupted work without potty or coffee breaks to break up your day.



You can win a bonus! Just be the 10th employee to give us 80 hours of your work week and you’ll instantly be qualified to win $1,000 but only if you come to work by 6am for twenty six months straight, have three point six kids, a dog named Bart and your neighbor is your boss and his beer cooler is full every weekend six years straight.



I believe in radio. I write every morning with an old fashioned nib and ink well. I love my Mother for not owning a microwave oven and still have a hard time believing tarantulas’ and scorpions are sold as pets.



I’m so ready to be left behind. Not because I don’t crave modern technology and how it’s simplified the need to torch a Bic lighter at a concert but my daughter Jenny turned 33 today. My heart still sees her as a teen sprouting wings that fed a need to explore new ideas and music. She’s the last American generation that wasn’t born with ear buds linked to an Ipod so having a conversation at dinner is still the most incredible adventure.



Just give me a day where looking forward isn’t a journey stealing glances from a past you can’t change. I want to locate a quiet place in the forest to do nothing more than patiently watch her grow slowly toward middle age. Not a negative but a gift. Its part of this thing called the continuation. We’re nothing more than trees that drop leaves and pinecones and within the whispers of wind comes the itty bitty needles that’ll one day tell the tales of the one that fell just the other day but during their time…the reason why there is…is because dedication never left the breath they shared minute by minute month by month.



Be you…and be brilliant at it.



arroecollins@clearchannel.com

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