Talk Radio Munchies | Jackson Free Press | Jackson, MS

Talk Radio Munchies


It was Thursday morning. First, the egg yolks in the Hollandaise sauce overcooked. Next, my English muffin burned in the toaster. My Eggs Benedict ruined, I resorted to a bowl of cold cereal—the breakfast of plebeians. How, you ask, could this happen to Andrew Scott—noted gourmand and at least passable breakfast chef? I blame it on "talk" radio.

As I prepared breakfast on that Thursday morning, I listened to a local talk radio program featuring two engaging, witty and very satirical hosts. As I unwrapped the Canadian bacon, it hit me. Andrew Scott had been had—these people were serious. This wasn't a joke; they believed what they were saying. The shock caused me to take my mind off my delicate work just long enough to account for the above-explained tragedy.

One person who called the show told the listening audience that it was not only our right to own a gun, but our duty as patriotic Americans. "I do not own a gun," I thought, "am I less than patriotic? Possibly seditious?"

For the rest of the morning I listened. At times I tuned in national shows, but twirling the dial found a large number of local shows. I decided on lunch at one of my favorite "light lunch" places, We Love Yogurt and Deli (Welo) in Maywood Mart. The sandwiches are excellent; there is a salad bar and a great selection of yogurt with toppings.

As I drove there, a caller noted it was impossible to defend one's family against marauding illegal immigrants without a substantial weapon—preferably a large-caliber semi-automatic. While I had no family to defend, I became worried what marauding immigrants might do to my cat. Unfortunately, I have pampered the animal to the extent he is unable to defend himself in a crisis. I ordered the vanilla silk yogurt with a granola topping to go. I needed a gun.

A search of the Yellow Pages yielded a number of places to purchase a weapon. I headed for the nearest outlet only to discover I was allowed only to apply for a gun. There is a waiting period. The clerk explained that the store needed to first find out if I possessed a criminal record. I decided it was time to come clean. Once, a long time ago in my youth, I passed off the Hickory Stick's baked beans as my own at a picnic, but I ran with a bad crowd at the time. The clerk noted this on my form and assured me that if everything went well, I should have my gun by Tuesday.

Late that afternoon a caller to a local show noted that the duty to carry a gun was in the Bible. The message was clear: A good Christian is an armed Christian. I felt better about my purchase. No longer simply a bon vivant, I am also a patriot and a man of God.

I decided on a celebratory dinner at Trios, a charming Mediterranean restaurant on Old Canton Road in Ridgeland. The salads are unique, the fish dishes are exciting, and the desserts are difficult to refuse. There is a more-than-adequate wine list and a friendly wait staff.

After I arrived home, however, foreboding crept upon me. What if the illegal immigrants decided to maraud over the weekend? What if a pollster called and asked if I were a real patriot and owned a gun? What if the minister asked all the gun owners to stand Sunday morning in order to know who the real Christians were? I locked the doors and slept fitfully.

Tuesday I picked up my gun; the baked-bean incident expunged from my record. The clerk noted that the gun alone was insufficient for defense without bullets. I had not considered bullets, but it seemed reasonable. I bought a box.

At home, I carefully unwrapped the gun and loaded it. I felt manly. Unfamiliar with how these things operate, I pulled the trigger to see what would happen. I learned that when you pull the trigger on a loaded gun it shoots the bullet. In this case, the bullet went through my little toe. While not life threatening, this is a painful experience, and it scared the cat.

There is no reason for concern, food fans. Other than missing one toe, I am the picture of health. I lie on the couch with my bandaged foot elevated listening to the radio. My day is filled with local shows until 9, when I can get Laura Ingram followed by Rush, Hannity and O'Reilly, more local programming, Dr. Laura (who knows I'm doing the right thing), Savage and Lars Larsen. I never miss a word. I am addicted.

And always with me is my trusty gun ready to shoot anyone who brings me cold calamari or a limp Caesar salad. It is my duty. It is my right. It's what Jesus would do. Thank you, "talk" radio.

Previous Comments


I have to give this one a plug. READ THIS. It is one of the funniest things we've ever run, as is Ken Stiggers' column about a guy applying for Brownie's job this week. ;-D


Donna is so, so right. In fact, I plan to re-read it whenever I feel the need for a delightful laugh--and right now with these hurricanes and their aftermaths, that just might be right regular.

Lynette Hanson

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