Satellite Station:
“Good
morning, Good afternoon, and Good evening to all you beautiful creatures out
there that listen. It is I, your host and DJ, Frigid Fred, broadcasting live
from my office and cabin at the top of my gorgeous mountain. You guy and gals
know the drill,” Fred always starts his radio broadcasts with those two lines;
never missing a beat.
Every day, for the last ten years,
Fred would wake up and talk about his day, let listeners have a chat or express
themselves, sometimes give his weather forecast, and tease his whereabouts to
anyone that was listening. Yes, Fred is an enigma in the radio business; no one
knows where, who, or why.
“Today’s topic is a sad one, my Earthworms. Today we talk about our morning coffees spilling on our laps, scorching
hot drinks ruining our moods, and with it our day. It is my displeasure to
announce my day is colder than usual, some might say Frigid,” then a honk sound
blast for everyone to hear. This is one of his recurring gags: anytime he
circumvents the conversation into a joke he honks a horn. He loves to laugh at
his own jokes; the listeners also love to laugh at them as well.
“I’ll go straight to calls today,
I’m eager to listen to everyone’s unfortunate stories of liquid dismay. Caller
number one, what do you have for us today? Remember: the number is always
000-000-0001. Anything else will not be answered,” then he pushed a button next
to an odd telephone on his desk.
“Yeah, I just wanted to be on the
show, haven’t spilled my coffee once in my life,” this caller was a man,
probably in his mid-thirties, rough voice. “Truly embarr…Oh, you have to be
joking with me. Right now?”
He got cut off. “That’s why you
should always be careful not to boast and keep humble, my cold children,” he
sounded off a cheer from a button next to the microphone. “Now, onto the next
caller.”
“Hi, Frigid Fred. Always a delight
hearing you from Canada,” this time a woman, much older and with a sweet voice.
“Always a pleasure having a listener
from Canada. Tell us your sad tale of hot coffee, or any morning drink, or even
nighttime drinks; we don’t judge here.”
“Well, a few days ago I was having a
nice dinner with the family. When suddenly, as I was about to pick up my wine
glass, then children ran past me. The sad part starts when I address the color
of my blouse that day. It used to be white with yellow polka dots. Tears me up
every night since.”
“What a truly sad story, cry-worthy
indeed. I heard that Hydrogen Peroxide plus some dish soap can clean that mess
up. Next time be careful with the children and wine in the same place,” he
laughed at his last statement. “Now to our next caller on the line. What do you
have for us?”
"Hey, buddy, I bet you mother can…”
he got cut off before he could finish.
“Most certainly my mother is the
best being in the entire galaxy, but I don’t think he was about to say
something nice about her. Everyone knows I encourage freedom to speak, but
insults don’t count. Onto the next caller. What do you have for us,
grasshopper?”
“Hey, hey, how’s, how’s everything,
everything, going, going?”
“Sir, please lower the volume from
the radio, it interferes with the calls. To answer your question: it got better
after you asked, thank you.”
"Oh, sorry, it now better?” the
voice was of a young man, with an echoey background.
“Cristal clear; you may continue.”
“Well, my story is horribly sad. You
know morning classes are the worst, especially for college students. Anyway, I
was on my way to a class at seven-thirty with an assignment due in just five
minutes. I barely slept, so I went for a coffee in the cafeteria. Such is my
luck that just when I got to the door of the classroom I trip. Everything got
stained; I got made fun of, and I lost my coffee. The only good thing out of
this is that the professor saw that I had done it and gave me a C+. I also got
help from a pretty girl in my class…Oh, I hope she doesn’t listen to this.” He
hung up after a moment of silence.
“Well, I hope she does listen and
maybe buys you a coffee, maybe has a chat with you. If you know what I mean.
Always shoot your shot if you’re in one of my calls; never be afraid to succeed.”
Fred goes by many names because Fred
is not his real name. He typically uses alliterations when naming himself for a
day: Mayor Mark, Painting Peter, Dusty Dustin, and many more. The same goes for how
he addresses his listeners; there is no true pattern, he just names them with the first thing that comes to mind. After ten years, no one questions his way of
broadcasting.
“Now, next caller, what do you have
for us?”
“Howdy, man, love your show. So, my
story is not about me spilling, but some asshole spilling on me,” this was a
woman with a southern accent, very high-pitched, and youthful.
“Minimize the cursing, please.”
“Oh, right, my bad. As I was saying,
some idiot spilled water on me. I was at the café minding my own business,
typing away my lewd magnum opus, when suddenly I see a cup of water flying my
way. My reaction time was too slow for me to protect my baby and all of my
documents were gone. This was a potential book that would revolutionize the
erotic genre, make me famous, and make me rich.”
“Some things aren’t meant to be,
sweety. Go straight to a technician and save those documents on a flash drive in case something like that happens again. May your literary porno masterpiece
be seen by the public at some point.”
The radio host—Frigid Fred, for today—is always keen on giving advice anytime someone is having a bad day. There was no topic he could not elaborate and share his insight into; not shying away from controversy, but always keeping it neutral; the devil’s advocate. He would often be heckled by listeners for not always picking one side, yet he was always composed and responded to them accordingly.
“We have time for one more caller, what do you have for us, cool cat?”
“Oy, vato, I want to tell my triste
story,” you could hear his sniffles at the end. This caller had a strong voice,
male, and most likely of Mexican descent. “It all started when my beloved,
Mamacita, was about to bring me lunch because I forgot to take it in the mañana.
The boys at work always bothering me, they know I love my wife and would do
anything for her. Well, one of them elbowed me a bit too hard and made me spill
my pozole all over her high heels. Now she won’t talk to me, or even look at
me. What do I do, compadre?”
“That’s a tough one, but maybe
cleaning her high heels, giving her a foot massage, and complimenting her for a
day would bring her back. If nothing works, blame it on me. There is nothing
wrong with loving your wife. That’s going to be it for the caller section of
the day; let’s hope tomorrow is a good day for stories.”
When it comes to sections, his radio
show only has callers, guests, “fact of the day”, and song of the day. Songs
are not usually liked by the listeners, depending on the genre and bands, but
sometimes they love it and ask for it to be repeated the next day. “Fact of the
day” is in the same vein as his naming routing, with no specific meaning or order.
Guests are strangers that are proficient in one topic and wish to share
with the listeners.
“Today’s guest is an honored man, an
esteemed and educated scholar. Today I bring you, Jonathan Gordon. The topic for
this broadcast is 'The importance of literature in the youth, and how it
should be implemented more rigorously'. Yes, yes, I know it’s not a common
topic here, but we strive to expand our general knowledge and bring forth
information for those in need. Enough dilly-dallying, I present to you,
Jonathan Gordon, a literary professor, as well as a candidate for a doctorates
degree in youth learning.”
“Thank you, Fred, for the
introduction. It is an honor to speak with the allusive radio host,” Jonathan
had a raspy voice, but somehow still with a youthful tone. “As you mentioned,
today’s topic of interest is youth and literature. Well, first we must talk
about the ages in which my research holds: we start at five years old and end
just before high school, around fourteen to fifteen. Children around the ages
of two will start to understand concepts, so having a starting point at five is
good for their developing minds. Critical understanding is my ultimate goal in
this thesis, simply because my education system is flawed.”
“Will this be in stages or will we
have second-graders reading Hamlet?” Fred chuckled a bit. “I’m just jesting,
what I really wanted to ask: what is your motivation?”
“Great question. To be honest with
you, my motivation stems from how our society is barely learning to comprehend
sentences, make cohesive arguments, and lack critical thinking. I do plan
on getting a position as secretary of education here, make some changes here
and there, and actually help this hell-hole.”
“Where did you tell me you’re from,
professor?”
“Puerto Rico. The corruption is so
disastrous that even the department of education gets away with stealing and
dumbing the minds of the children, on purpose mind you. If you have a dumb
following, you have obedient sheep that do your every bidding.”
“Truly embarrassing what some scum
can get away with these days. Now, what are the parameters of learning or more
accurately, are there specific books for the children to read?”
“My plan consists of phases, three
to be exact. Phase one is with children five to seven; Phase two with eight to
eleven; and Phase three with twelve to fourteen or fifteen. This mostly corresponds
to how children develop their critical analysis, so we carefully and
methodically bring up new concepts to discover and discuss. There should not be
any specific book, for not everyone has the same capacity for reading. You may
have some that could read “One hundred years of solitude” by Gabriel
García Márquez, while others could only muster “The little Prince” by
Antoine de Saint Exupéry. I also have to add, I don’t intend on restricting
them of other cultural readings. Spanish is our maternal language, but I won’t
stop them from reading Irish or Russian literature. However, I do want them to
have a section to read from their own culture, Puerto Rican culture.”
“I do agree, one must learn their
own culture in order to learn from others. But isn’t this infringing on history
classes?”
“Good point to bring up. I have to
admit, literature is a big subject, and it might sometimes cross into other
subjects. There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of history while we read,
let’s say, “When I was Puerto Rican” by Esmeralda Santiago; the story of
a girl that moved from her motherland to the U.S.A. in the 1950s and 60s. You
can analyze her situation from a literary standpoint, as well as a historical
standpoint; nothing stops you from doing it. What does worry me is how to
integrate this into the system and gradually implement more reading in classes.
The age of lethargy and getting things quickly has an effect on those that do not
wish to read because it’s ‘boring’. There’s also the disparity in wealth here;
some children have enough to buy the books online or listen to them as
audiobooks, others don’t have that commodity.”
A beeping sound comes up as Jonathan
was finishing. “There’s plenty more to talk but unfortunately that time for
this section is almost up. I really wanted to expand on that last statement,
get to know how you would change things. I thank you for taking your time and
having this conversation with me.”
“The gratitude is mine, Fred. My
mission is to make everyone aware of our situation and help us grow as a
society. Until next time if you’re willing to have me again that is.”
“Most certainly, I would love to
have you again. Goodbye, Professor Gordon.” Soon after Fred hung up the call.
“Well, my kittens, there you have it: encourage reading, be mindful of the
children, and think critically. For today’s fun-fact-of-the-day section: did
you know that billiard balls used to explode on contact with other billiard
balls in the late 1800s, due to a wood component in them that was extremely
flammable? Really makes you think how the games were played back then. Game
over to whoever made the first ball explode,” Fred laughed at his last statement.
“Onto our last segment of the day,
song of the day. Kai Tangata by Alien Weaponry. For copyright reasons, I
can’t play the song, but I’m sure you cool cats can find it. I must warn you,
it’s pretty heavy and bizarre.” Fred pushed a button and a melodic chord played
in an arpeggio form.
“You know what that means; it is the
end of the show. But don’t be disheartened, there is always a tomorrow in this
radio show. Come by tomorrow at the same hour: 9am AST, 10am EST, 1pm GMT, 10pm
JST, 6pm IST, and 5am PST. You can tune in at RadioSat.com. A good day, good
night, and good afternoon to everyone.”
And so, ends the show for the day.