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Post to the Host: Well,
January 16, 2006 |
Post to the Host:
Well, you almost made the earth wobble in the last month by shifting your monologue to the first half of your show. Thank God you are back on track. For more than twenty years, our schedules have been defined by the tales of Lake Wobegon. We have laughed, cooked, drank and been of a genuine human nature while we listened to you. And then you changed the timing. The wine was not ready! My wife had slipped into the shower and you had started! My Gawd! Well, it seems to have been short-lived. I hope that this has corrected itself so that the monologue will be forever in the second part of the show, but it makes no difference, we will listen and be a part of your show no matter the timing. Thanks for the years we have had, and the ones yet to come.
It's gratifying to know that I can cause a stir in the Sapp household, though this was unintentional, believe me. The monologue got shifted to the first hour because we kept experiencing monologue drift. We'd have a lot of good stuff on and guests whose songs we hated to cut and before you knew it, the host was saying "It's been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon" and looking down at the stage clock and seeing the number 14:32 on it, the number of minutes remaining, and suddenly realizing that the elaborate saga he'd planned to tell could not be told this week and instead he should perhaps reminisce about his old dog or do a meditation on waffles. But when the monologue was moved to the second half-hour, voila, he had all the time in the world. Luxury! Extravagance! And now I can tell a story about the Sapps, once an upstanding family of Lake Wobegon, who moved to Charlotte, a den of hedonism, where men and women drink wine in the shower on Saturday evening while listening to the radio. You've opened up a whole new world, sir.