Karl Klockars

Every time we go out of town, we attack the books-on-tape section of our library for something to kill the hours of bland Indiana outside the windows of our vehicle.  It’s not that the wife and I can’t come up with something to talk about – it’s that Indiana generally sucks all the life and creative thought out of us, rendering us incapabale of any brain function higher than steering, gas pedal, brake and staring out windows.

So during our weekend jaunt to Dayton, I was surprised to find that rather than put in one of the borrowed discs (a Stephanie Plum book and something about arsonists in New England), she allowed me to indulge my radio geekery and poke around the dial for local stations.  I’m the kind of person that gets excited about call letters that start with “K” instead of “W” when you cross the Mississippi River.  I’m not sure what’s wrong with me, but it’s probably treatable.

While seeking around the dial, we stopped on any number of weekend fill-in radio guys, all spewing the same lines about how great torture is, how swine flu will kill us all and it’s the government’s fault, and so on.  To my surprise, rather than elicit the expected shock and rage from the wife, it rolled off like nothing.  It’s taken a while, but we’ve finally made the transition from getting upset at conservative talk radio to acknowledging its general ridiculousness and pomposity.  It’s entertainment.  It’s not that toxic.  It’s goofy.  (It’s easy to say that when the GOP continues to implode, however.)

This is a stark difference from the drive we took to Michigan where the only thing that kept us awake was screaming at Mark Levin between 10 and midnight.  I almost think that Coast to Coast AM should be crazier to reduce the risk of people falling asleep while listening.  Either that, or every 30 seconds they need to broadcast an ear-piercing high-frequency tone that’s too annoying to fall asleep through.  Same goes for Delilah and After Midnight.

Just about 10 hours of pure right-wing talk radio was no problem.  But here’s what was – Dr. Laura Schlessinger.  I wasn’t even aware that she was still around, but apparently she is.  Of course, the last time her name was even in the press was around the time of those nude photos of her started circulating, which was ten years ago.  So there’s that.

As it turns out, spending all day talking about torture and swine flu is cool enough, but as soon as there’s someone on the radio talking about keeping women in the home, being subservient to their men, doing everything that the husband wants them to, leaving their jobs and staying at home, how to raise your kids in a separated relationship and the like – only about a half hour of it – sent her over the edge.

I was glad that there was something that could still get under her skin – I was actually a little afraid that she’s been desensitized in much the same way I am.  Difference is, I know how to turn off my ears just enough to do my job – not quite the same thing when you’re locked in a car.  So to find someone that can get a reaction in just a few minutes – the program was only on for about a half hour – is pretty impressive.  Well played, Dr. L.

Things like this are illuminating to me.  Maybe I’m sheltered.  Maybe I’m hidden in my own little bubble of Chicago, hidden from the shrill rantings of the good “Dr.”  But there was one specific thing that highlighted just how different people can think and what kind of reactions people have to different stimuli.

Some poor woman called in and discussed the fact that she worked 14 hour days at her husbands company, and was having trouble getting him to adjust to some of her methods – presumably methods that would streamline the job and increase efficiency.  (I’m guessing here.)  Hubby didn’t want to.  So: What to do, Herr Doktor?

This is where we have the disconnect.  My instinct would say (and this is why I’m not cut out for radio advice giving, perhaps) that maybe you need to show him why these things work.  Show him how to work smarter and not harder.  Read other inspirational posters to her.  Things along those lines.

If that sounds reasonable to you, you’re obviously not Dr. Laura.  Her answer was to just do whatever the husband wants her to do.  Just work around him and take all the burden on herself.  Don’t bother him with your silly woman-y stuff.  Obviously it’s your fault and there’s something wrong with your ideas if he doesn’t want to do them.

Oooooooooookay.

Beyond that, the poor, overworked and underappreciated workerbee woman went on to talk about how things weren’t getting done at home and she wants to take care of her husband and make things better at home.  Would most of us agree that maybe the husband needs to step up and pick up his dirty socks?  Maybe they need to work together and compromise to make sure they’re both in a working relationship?

Wrong!  She needs to quit.  She needs to kick off those shoes, stay at home, be the happy housewife and just deal with everything.  Eff career in the A, get your subservient butt into the kitchen and start baking pies.  These are the kinds of things that get under the wife’s skin.  It was magical.

I’d never heard Dr. Laura before, as I’ve mentioned, but I’m now seeing it as a time machine.  If I could go back and listen to the prevailing mindset of 50′s Americana, that is what it would sound like.  If Don Draper had a talk show and was an old woman, this is what it would be.  It’s just a few steps away from talking about keeping the coloreds out of the neighborhood and how crappy all those Japanese electronics are.

And it was fun screaming at a radio again.  Usually we only yell that much when the Sox and Tigers are playing each other.  (Plus, then we’re usually half drunk, which you can’t very well be while you’re travelling by interstate.)  You can’t very well get upset at your iPod, seeing as how you’re responsible for everything in there.  It’s a nice communal experience, huddling around the warm hearth of weekend travel radio, hollering at the glow.