happy new year, dear friends. I know those of you who love being tyrannized by the calendar are prone to making wild resolutions this time of year. Maybe this is the year you finally jump out of an airplane (preferably with a parachute)  Perhaps it’s time to try out a diet besides fudge, cheetos and colt .45?  How about maybe limiting your screen time to something less than 22.5 hours a day?  
 
 These all seem like wild, thoroughly unrealistic promises for any of you to keep, but I’m built of stronger stuff. So that’s why when I pledged on this week’s show to not only keep the back-announcing to a minimum going forward, i wasn’t fiddle-fucking around.  For starters, no one is paying me enough to hear my amazing voice so often (in fact, no one is paying me at all).  Each carefully constructed set has it’s own unique ebb and flow ; not only would constant interruptions, well, INTERRUPT said flow but didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to interrupt?
 
 For The Radio Hour That Feels Like Two Hours, 2025 is all about less talk, more rock.  Except maybe not so much rock. Maybe not so much music, either.  How about some goddamn peace and quiet for two hours, who’s with me?