My Friend Howard
For over 20 years, my morning routine has had only one real constant. Howard Stern.
I did not realize the impact of the habit until a couple of weeks ago, when Howard was on vacation and a special called "The History of Howard Stern, Act II" ran over two weeks on his eponymous Sirius Satellite Radio stations. And I loved every bloody second.
I heard bits, gags and tirades I had not heard since the 80s. The show had a very raw quality back then. Howard was hungry. He never seemed to stop talking.
Howard Stern changed the way talk radio is executed. The airwaves are chock full of imitators. Some are handsomely paid and damned great in their own right, too. But none would exist without the trails blazed by the fearsome Jew who grew up in Roosevelt and Rockville Centre. We have taken a ride through life with Howard and his co-host Robin Quivers. We have seen them be celebrated and reviled and become quite rich in the process.
Howard sounds like a wild man on those tapes. His voice is about three octaves higher and he is frantic in his quest to become the King of All Media. The equipment was not as good, the acoustics imperfect and the pace of the show faster and rebellious, like a petulant teenager. Howard was still a married man. He was dancing on the line of sin with his on-air exploits with strippers, porn stars and other people who from the proverbial dark side of life.
Listening was exciting.
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