Prime Radio

Who would ever want to be king? Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

Sometimes, you work a long time before you can act like yourself. Praise Jah. But really, I consider myself more of a Deadhead than a Dickhead. Admittedly, I’ve seen “The Wizard Of Oz” a few too many times and I wanted to rule the fictional eastern region of the Land of Oz, also known as the land of munchkins. As mayor of Hess Village, I lowered unemployment to 11.2 percent in the village. I cleaned the streets with my own two hands. My stint as mayor went unheralded, but it was a good time. A low profile after that, mostly reading Lord Tennyson’s Idylls of the King, before stepping inside the radio world. A “legendary tribute act” meaningless, but fun.

Just because it’s a bad idea doesn’t mean it won’t be a good time. I remember making the executive decision. It would be different. It wouldn’t be about politics. In the basement, the townhouse rocked. I scoured old audio files, my collection of music. It wasn’t 11.0 stereo sound, but good enough. A blast from the past from the Tattoni Towers.

The company needed a role model. I thought, hey, I’m in media. If Don Imus could play a racist cowboy, then maybe I could play a king. And there you have it. My full name is Richard Mark Anthony Tattoni. This was something I did years ago in 2015 when I had the tongue muscles. But it’s not “big dick” history. I’m not pretending to be a doctor holding onto a giant cucumber in the bathtub. No, I never did reveal my real past. No way. Everything captured on the fake airwaves leading up to Richard Weber’s bloody-awful coronation is here. I represented a fictional role as a president and disc jockey. I had a great time. For one entire week, I used Savage Cologne; I devoured donuts: eleven chocolate sprinkles, four glazed, three maple buttermilk, and five crullers. I want to thank WRICH Radio for giving me a shot and taking a chance on me. We parted ways when Lionheart found Ukrainian Easter eggs under my desk.

I invented Heartbreak, literally, on the frequency that keeps on giving: it’s your number eleven “hit” music station.

I’m like a fly on the wall. I got fired from working at a radio repair shop as a teenager. I borrowed a few too many parts. I took up writing. Things started off slow. I worked on the craft, around the time crappy drummers wished they were guitar heroes fresh out of the Benny Goodman Band and on stage with Foo Fighters in the heat. Global warming is for real. Gorilla Monsoon used to wrestle. In fifty years, there’ll be a lot more monsoons and a lot more gorillas. If I could’ve added one more Scorpion to the mix, I would’ve rocked you like a hurricane. Who wouldn’t want Tony’s gig? The DJ of YouTube, but the duke’s time is up. My watch collection died. Richard Tattoni TV was channel 911 on basic cable, but it faded to black a long time ago. Russian Territory TV is almost like Hustler TV and it’s run by the same bunch of company clowns. But was there anyone worse at their job than Tuesday Alvarez in clown shoes?

I was never smart enough to do stand-up comedy. King Richard XII seized control of Lionheart. Sure, it took way too many years, but the #TennisCommunity loves me. I’m the author of a novel about the last ray of sunshine. I fumbled promotion for the book, but there’s radio from my prime. My agent does not know.

My agent also doesn’t know about my recurring dream. I’m in a bathroom with hundreds of old stall doors. Each stall I open features a rotting toilet teeming with feces and urine and sometimes vomit. Each toilet is worse than the last, and I desperately have to take a leak. I run after O’Toole, but I can’t catch the Indigenous superhero. I run and run, but I’m not going anywhere fast. It’s not that funny at all. Elvis also isn’t funny.

Shit, my Canadian Tire super fan broke down. I’ll miss you, fan. This is not a joke — their fearless leader appeared in a 1998 Pizza Hut commercial. The ad aired internationally, but it wasn’t shown in his own country. The Soviet Union didn’t like that I predicted the pandemic. I really don’t understand Russia. I thought they committed me to a project. It turned out to be a ‘fraudject’ working with serfs and internet peasants.

Still, I tried my best.