At any point when the masses are capable of clutching the means of expression, they grasp for it, clutch in their grubby little poopy hands, and rip it to shreds.
We were sheltered from the thoughts and opinions of the average, the unremarkable, the rank and file of the talentless. No longer. The internet thrust upon us a lamentable unyielding wave that engulfs us in the ineptitude of normalcy. Once, we had to sacrifice and strive for greatness. Skills were obtained through competition and repetition, a wholly American sentiment of wanting to be the best. I picture Thompson, brooding over his red IBM Selectric. A monotonous machine gun like clatter, each finger assailed a key, as letter for painstaking letter Thompson copied, “The Great Gatsby” or “A Farewell to Arms.” His reasoning? “Just to get the feeling of what it was like to write that way.” When I decided to pursue my love of writing, I created this website. No intention of earning money, wanting no notoriety for it, only wanting to practice writing. But those who can’t write, talk. And those who shouldn’t speak, start a podcast.
I was thirty years old before I heard my first podcast. It was an episode of “The Last Podcast on the Left.” Intriguing name, engaging cast, comical, and informative. The ability to entertain while enlightening listeners on the crimes of depraved minds was and is fascinating. I sought more, what else could this incredible new audio platform provide me? Basically shit.
The first piece of evidence I would like to bring you the jury? Redundancy. The prosecution calls “the scripted, NPResque, monotone-hack podcaster” to the stand! This might be by far the worst quality in the group. Even when what you are saying is boring, could it not be expressed in a way that doesn’t place the listener on a golf course? Even pitch, slow, deliberately mundane execution. “Today…We…Will…Talk…About…The… Who gives a fuck? If this group were a sport, they would be baseball, if you took away the athletic ability, the contact, and the public drunkenness. I am going to guess that most purveyors of this style are college graduates that actually enjoyed lectures. The quiet whisper, elementary like prose of explanation tells the tale of something absolutely as dull as what it is they are saying. Is there an online podcasting school that these creatures are alumni of?
I don’t hold these lackluster podcasters utterly responsible for their cookie-cutter actions. Most news broadcasters also have a horrifically distinctive way of spewing shit out of their mouth.
The second characteristic akin to bad podcasting would be emotion, or the nonsensical reason to be emotional, the false emotion. More a pandering of passion, like a dramatic high school thespian. The podcasting performer wishes to instill in you, the listener, just how upset they are, long pauses, exaggerated gasp, or just how long the criticism of how terrible an act is. They will continue this grandstanding in perpetuity. Why are they so goddamn sad? Why do they feel the need to portray this continuously? Is the audience so full of non-confrontational betas that this is acceptable behavior?
Tuning into most mainstream podcast will yield similar results. The brash, outlandish, unapologetic homosexual. The funny woman is talking about promiscuity and her latest sexual act. The droning on of the white male in his documentary-like speak of something obscure, like where all the goddamn crickets have gone.
Don’t let me deter you, though. This is just my opinion, maybe I’ll start a podcast about it.
One thing I do enjoy about the podcasts is that there is one for anything you may enjoy. From politics to backyard barbeques. If you are interested in something, you can bet someone is out there talking about it, just waiting for you to tune in. There is absolutely nothing more American than feeling like your opinion needs to be heard by others.
That is about it. That is why I think podcast suck.
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