Say hello to mid-life crisis guy.
(And you thought Bristol had no metal detectors!)
He’s the guy who procured an agent at CAA and proclaimed he wanted to be the next David Letterman, but somehow got jacked up in Bristol, Ct., doing a radio show that no one listens to live inside the 1590 dial position.
Oh, wait, mid-life crisis guy does have listeners, thanks to Soviet-style, forced-clearance on company O & O stations. Thank god for the Connecticut-based central planners! Program Directors be damned!
Mid-life crisis guy is the sad sack who joins spinning classes in a desperate attempt to pick up. Only to stop attending after several post-class shutdowns. (In fairness, I thought the Pinkberry meetup suggest was a lock too.)
He’s the guy who can’t handle that his job, be it as an anonymous market teleprompter jockey, or AM radio host, has been outmoded by more sophisticated media technology - except to over-the-road, 18-wheelers bound for Albuquerque.
Most of all though, mid-life crisis guy is the person who foists his petty, delusional narcissism on the poor slaves souls assigned to work with him every day. He’s the self-hating guy who is blissfully unaware that not for the venue provided by his parent company, his only audience would be the knuckle-dragging, mouth-breathers that he ironically abhors.
Now, excuse me as I’m off to sift through a host of hotties at a smattering of Hollywood Clubs on this glorious SoCal Saturday evening, while mid-life crisis guy sets up shop at his friendly neighborhood, Bristol-area Roy Rogers (or was it Friendly’s?).
Followed of course by his 100th consecutive screening of Wild Hogs.
(In all seriousness, why-o-why are you so angry? Yeah, the divorce thing sucked. And your career is stuck in neutral. But the over-the-top rage is doing nothing but holding you back. Don’t listen to people who tell you that
Prozac Lithium Zoloft will cause you to lose your creative edge. Just keep off the Cutty when you’re on it. Peace.)