On being a Boor and Nightstalking

Sometimes I think about this blog and then I find myself in a quandry. What to write about now? Every time I read about something in the news and/or hear an item on the radio, I want to blab about it. Maybe it's because deep down, I'm secretly one of those people who like to hear themselves talk. We all know someone like that. A Boor. Don't confuse Boors with Bores, Boors are people who don't stop talking to listen to what other people have to say. I think in my life I can be that way if I wanted to, but I know how people feel about Boors, so I stop and edit myself. However, Boors can be Bores too. So here I am blogging and I wonder, has my inner Boor decided to manifest itself? And if I am, could it possibly be, I am also a Bore?

In the case of Talk Radio, being a Boor is a good thing. This is for those times when you are by yourself in the studio with a four hour show and the phone is NOT RINGING. The one time I worked Talk Radio at a brand new experiment in San Francisco, "FM Talk Radio," which in the early nineties, was a station called KDBK, I found that I had to switch on my inner Boor. Which was tough for four hours. When you work at any new station, you have to accept you won't have much in terms of listeners. It would also mean that people would pass by the station idly and wonder "what the heck IS this?" But idly wondering "what the heck IS this" is not the same as picking up the phone to argue. Especially when the listeners didn't even know what the phone number of the station was.

In most Talk Radio stations, shows are limited to two hours. You also have commercials, news and sometimes, you get to run little 2 or 3 minutes features. But because we were new, I had a four hour show with mostly NO commercials, NO news and No little features. Indeed, a Talk Radio show host's nightmare. But I had to deal with it. I'm sure I was both a Boor and a Bore. But it's all water under the bridge, I refuse to sweat and/or make apologies for it.

These are the thoughts that plague my head every so often. Of course, because I am so peripatetic, I think about it for one nanosecond and then shrug it off. It would drive me batsht if I started to debate whether I was a Boring Boor or a Booring Bore.

Anyway, yesterday I woke up with the news that Richard Ramirez had died. Why should I concern myself about The Nightstalker? When you work at any radio station in San Francisco, there is a 'captive' audience that lives at the maximum security arena known as San Quentin. And if you are a woman DJ, you get letters from that audience.

One time I had a listener who was so captivated by my work, he would write me poems and fill a notebook with those poems. And then he would send me that notebook. You'd think, gee, how sweet. However, in his case, he was a rather prolific poet. He was so prolific that I was receiving the average of one notebook a day. Yup. People would get worried about the fanaticism, but I would remind them that usually the people who were sent to San Quentin were usually the worst offenders and usually, they were the ones who would stay locked up. Usually.

Somehow it was not comforting to my friends.

Anyway, the only reason why I take note of Richard Ramirez, the infamous serial killer known as The Nightstalker, is because he sent me a letter. Take a look:

What creeps me out was how he was so proud of himself. And of course, requesting songs with creepy names. Rot in Hell Ramirez.