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David Searls, a once familiar contributor to THE SUN, makes his living with Hodskins, Simone, and Searls, an advertising agency in Raleigh, N.C. He lives in nearby Durham.
I wrote to Lorenzo about the idea. He was skeptical. “I really want you to think big,” he wrote back. “If you think of some wired circuit thing that will reach barely 500 people, you won’t spark anyone’s imagination. Start thinking about a real community station, with studios and a transmitter and great tough programming — and then we can inspire a great number of people to perhaps a great number of things.”
For a while, several years ago, I stopped watching the TV news. This was no small thing. I was in the habit of watching all three networks, often at the same time, spinning the dial with the finesse of an accomplished musician running scales on his favorite instrument.
WDBS is an institution, as much a part of local culture as Somethyme Restaurant, Apple Chill Fair, Breadmen’s, Carrboro and canoeing the Haw River. It’s one of the things that makes this area a nice place to live. Without it, life would be different.
Parapsychology, like every other science, is in the business of doing research. At least as important as research, if not moreso, is publishing. . . . These folks are serious. It’s the right thing to do, of course. If they don’t take themselves seriously, who will? . . . What follows is a parody of the type of article typically found in one of the parapsychological journals, or in any scientific journal.
I want to hold the Sun-connections of my life up to the light, like a five-inch-tall Italian standing, hands aloft, under a heap of the finest spaghetti. I want to shake the November Sun at the world, and testify like a Baptist in heat.
Most of what we call reality falls into a range between the trivial and the transcendent. At one end are the details of waking life. At the other end is what really counts.
Hawking takes on Einstein directly: “It therefore seems that Einstein was doubly wrong when he said ‘God does not play dice.’ Consideration of particle emission from black holes would seem to suggest that God not only plays dice but sometimes throws them where they cannot be seen.” Where they can’t be seen is black holes, where singularities dwell.
What would it be like if miracles were ordinary, while what was unusual was pain, sickness, heartbreak, anxiety, misfortune, and death? It wouldn’t be Earth, that’s for sure. Or would it?
This is all in service of an excuse to reissue a bunch of bicentennial humor that ran on WDBS from the fall of ’75 to July 4, 1976. There were well over a hundred different “bicentennial minutes,” and what follows was excerpted from the worst of them.
No, Sporadic E is not Elvin Hayes in the playoffs (that’s a basketball joke, nonsports fans). It’s something strange that happens high in the sky, like depleting ozone.
Would you use a $15,000 Porsche just to haul groceries? Then why would you use your FM tuner or stereo receiver just to get a few local stations? If your answer is “because that’s all I can get,” you’re wrong. You can get more. Lots more. Would you believe well over 100 different stations? It’s true.
Mike looked at me quizzically while Greg Wells, another WQDR disc jockey (or “jock,” as they say in the business), delivered this devastating insight: “Well, you know what it is, Dave . . . You’re just getting old.”