Hababechee babooa, it's 3 o'clock

At work, every day, all day, my boss listens to the college radio station WERS; thus, so do I. It's my college station -- I even appeared on it once -- so it pains me to say that the station completely blows. When I think of college radio, I think of cutting-edge stuff. Aren't hot new bands always discovered on college radio? Not ERS. Most of the morning is nondescript jazz; in the afternoons it's nondescript "world music."

If the tendency of people is to not like things they don't understand, then I really don't like things I don't understand when I hear them at the exact same time every day. I know a lot of radio stations are guilty of not varying their playlists, but the problem is certainly magnified when all you have to go on is how much the shrill singer in the song at 2:37 reminds you of a boiling piglet. I don't even have to wear a watch anymore -- I know that when I hear the song composed entirely of clicking sticks, it's time for lunch.

And I'm not the only one. "This song makes me want to cut my ears off," my fellow editorial assistant discreetly emailed me the other day. On that day, though, and most of last week, I was one step ahead, with earbuds securely in ears. You see, I've discovered podcasts. I'm fickle when it comes to listening to music (it has to suit my mood), but I'm finding that an hour of Meet the Press or Real Time with Bill Maher can really knock the wind out of a slow morning. Still, at 12:56, I pull out my earbuds. I'm a sucker for the song with the sticks.