"The King Of Politics"

Watching Martin Scorsese's The King Of Comedy on DVD reminds me of the time when I was working in the Network Operations Center of the corporate radio network owned by that behemoth of media conglomerates, Clear Channel.

In the movie, Robert De Niro plays aspiring comic Rupert Pupkin, who kidnaps a late-night talk show host (modeled on Johnny Carson but played by Jerry Lewis) in order to get his big break on the airwaves. The movie wasn't a big hit but in terms of foresight it is extremely prescient. Forget Andy Warhol's 15 minutes, this movie practically guarantees that the criminal class will inherit the media of the future.

It reminds me of my job in radio because there was one moment in time when I had the idea to switch the feed that sent Rush Limbaugh's show from West Palm Beach (where he broadcasts) via a satellite connection that ended up in Denver and scattered all over the network, which was nationwide at the time.

I wanted to switch the feed with a filthy comedy routine by the late Bill Hicks, wherein he wondered aloud if Rush Limbaugh and some of the Republican ex-presidents (with Barbara Bush in tow) engaged in kinky coprophilia. I had the CD in my travel bag, and my position was such that I could've done it easily, and by the time anyone was the wiser the bit would've ended... along with my career in radio.

I often wonder what would have happened had I done that. First of all, I would've been fired and probably fined for violating FCC standards and practices. But the prank would've made the news, and people who hate Rush Limbaugh would've picked up on it and had me on their shows and I might have become some sort of low-level celebrity in left-wing circles. Maybe I would've ended up working for Air America.

But I also would've incurred the wrath of neo-conservatives and right-wingers. Not that it bothers me, but then again they can be a hateful bunch, and the quiet solitude I enjoy now with my wife and son would not be possible due to never-ending torrents of hate mail and death threats. I mean, this would have happened in late 2000 had it actually been carried out, long before I ever entertained the thought of settling down. But I don't think I would've found the kind of peace I enjoy now. Some people have long memories, and the ones who I would've angered tend to carry guns and shoot abortion doctors, so someone like me would be fair game.

Still, I wonder what might have been, as we all do when we think about the paths we didn't take in life. And I don't regret not doing it, because ultimately such an event would only make Rush's supporters more defensive-- after all, they do refer to themselves as 'dittoheads' so there's really nothing a prank like that would've done to convince them otherwise. In fact, it may have only fanned the flames of their devotion to such an extent that maybe it would've made today's current political climate --replete as it is with Tea Baggers and Occupiers and the whole lot --much less tolerable.

Part of me does wish I could've socked it to the right-wingers in such a spectacular fashion, but I think someone like me does it every day here in Middle America, where sometimes my mere presence in a public market stands as an affront to any white upper middle-class American who thinks that minorities are inferior. I think the fact that I am here and raising a son and living the Dream with a capital D can sometimes be more of a 'fuck you' to the dittoheads than any rhetoric I can espouse.

I dunno, maybe I'm just rationalizing a missed opportunity. Or maybe I just have a hankering to do something along those lines again. I look at the papers and the blogs and the news websites and see so many people taking it to the streets, I wonder if I ever did enough. But there's no answer to that, because even if I had hijacked Rush's radio show for a minute in the post-election turn-of-the-millenium, there's no way I could ever top that. I'd have to live that down, or outdo it. And that's the consequence of such an action: once you pick a side of the fence to be on, you have to stay there.

Believe me, it's much more enjoyable being here, in the Heartland, the Crossroads of America, where no one knows my name and yet I can still sympathize with those who believe what I believe as I send my son to a decent preschool and my wife wins Halloween contests by dressing as the leg lamp from A Christmas Story. I don't think I'd want it any other way, the more I think about it.