TuesApr04 Ramblings Of A Pop-Jock...
This Bebo thing has totally distracted from the whole point of rayfoley.net – it’s almost taken over as a more interactive form of blogging. But I want to get back to my .net roots, so here I am with a proper, full-blown rant/essay/ramble/shite-on (take your pick) for your boredom. I’m enjoying a bowl of cold ricicles, and will sit down to episode 16 of season 7 of The West Wing after this. It’s election day. Download it.
Anyway, I’ve been thinking about the show lately, and it strikes me that the more I’ve been thinking about it, the worse things are getting. See, we’ve been on the air for nearly two years now, and in that time the show has mutated into the ugly nighttime beast you now know and love. Over that time there has been no real “grand scheme of things” or “point” to the Blast: it was all about taking the piss, having a laugh and playing some good tunes. Plain and simple, right? Right.
Then people start listening – yes, yes, only 25 people. But they matter. And JP starts working on the show, and now there’s a “team” of us, putting this crap on the air. And now college is over, and I start to think about maybe buying a house. And then the bank asks me what I do for a living. And then I shit myself. What do I do for a living?
How can taking the piss and playing a few tunes with your best mate be a career choice? Surely there must be some “work” to it? Surely, it should be difficult? Surely, I should be bursting my balls to make the show bigger and better, become a megastar DJ, and make millions to pay for my new mortgage? Surely!
So now I’m a grown-up (technically) and I’m thinking (after nearly two years) that I need to knuckle down, and start real work on the show. Things need to change ‘round here – it’s just not good enough. So I start stressing out. And a stressed-out gobshite does not a good DJ make. And then it all falls to shite.
Tonight, things weren’t going well for a while, until JP tried to use his beard as Velcro on the studio wall. Dumbass. But I realize that this shite was what the show used to be, and that’s what we’re gonna do again.
Tonight a new Blast rule was born, and if you ever feel the show needs a kick up the arse, feel free to email or text to remind us:
It’s a new dawn, kids. Now get back to work. And remember batin's for ratin's as you do.
Ray
Anyway, I’ve been thinking about the show lately, and it strikes me that the more I’ve been thinking about it, the worse things are getting. See, we’ve been on the air for nearly two years now, and in that time the show has mutated into the ugly nighttime beast you now know and love. Over that time there has been no real “grand scheme of things” or “point” to the Blast: it was all about taking the piss, having a laugh and playing some good tunes. Plain and simple, right? Right.
Then people start listening – yes, yes, only 25 people. But they matter. And JP starts working on the show, and now there’s a “team” of us, putting this crap on the air. And now college is over, and I start to think about maybe buying a house. And then the bank asks me what I do for a living. And then I shit myself. What do I do for a living?
How can taking the piss and playing a few tunes with your best mate be a career choice? Surely there must be some “work” to it? Surely, it should be difficult? Surely, I should be bursting my balls to make the show bigger and better, become a megastar DJ, and make millions to pay for my new mortgage? Surely!
So now I’m a grown-up (technically) and I’m thinking (after nearly two years) that I need to knuckle down, and start real work on the show. Things need to change ‘round here – it’s just not good enough. So I start stressing out. And a stressed-out gobshite does not a good DJ make. And then it all falls to shite.
Tonight, things weren’t going well for a while, until JP tried to use his beard as Velcro on the studio wall. Dumbass. But I realize that this shite was what the show used to be, and that’s what we’re gonna do again.
Tonight a new Blast rule was born, and if you ever feel the show needs a kick up the arse, feel free to email or text to remind us:
The Blast: Paid To Not Give A Shit©
It’s a new dawn, kids. Now get back to work. And remember batin's for ratin's as you do.
Ray
posted by Ray at 1:34 a.m.
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