Walk a mile in my shoes

Because the cyclists elected me prom queen, I’ve temporarily moved my base of operations to another location. Won’t say where it is, but here’s a hint: There’s no graffiti, no bikes, and almost no hikers but me.



It has been my habit, on the way up the trail, to listen to a local public radio station.



One in particular offers PRI The World, a program that covers international events with real live correspondent-feet on the ground. The host, Lisa Mullins, has – bar none – the best radio voice extant, it’s like an oboe or viola, painting the daily picture in moderate, calm notes. No hysteria in the upper registers.



But this local radio station also produces a few of its own shows – shows which seem to have ambitions beyond the Pasadena stage. In the wake of a major international event, they try to elbow their way inside, with seemingly no budget and no foreign correspondents.



So when the story in Libya first broke, for example, their solution was to interview anyone who had ever visited, known, or seen a Libyan. Bonus points if they could spell Khadafy. (Aside: Bonus points to me if I can spell Libya.)



During this latest market crisis, the local news readers, thirsting for a piece of the action, break in every fifteen minutes to breathlessly pinpoint where in the hell we can now find our handbasket.



They can take a hike. Just not where I hike. But you can come along.



And listen to this, instead.



Or this.