Streaming audio consciousness

So, through the miracle of streaming audio, I can co-exist in two vastly different worlds ...

the land of the southern black middle class family here in Clayton County, with greens, grits, chicken and biscuits for lunch...moms who use "sweet oil" in their kids' ears, whatever that is...an apartment complex teeming with SUVs bearing NC A&T, Dillard and black fraternity stickers...a generally agreeable place...and grandmas who seldom tell anyone the troubles they've seen, one or two generations removed from God knows what. A lot of families have returned to Georgia and the surrounding South in a weird reverse migration from the north, to a nicer weather pattern, more tolerant, laid-back lifestyle, cheaper housing, the lure of a job that lured their grandparents north, but then moved back south...

BUT ...

when I run back to the office...

"610 WIP, what a knucklehead. You, my friend, are a MORON."
Ah, the city of Brotherly Shove, broadcast on the internet, and I quickly forget I'm 700 miles south of the Blue Route and 750 miles south of DeLorenzo's, the world's best pizza in beautiful Trenton..

What a concept. I can turn off my civility switch, kick back, shut the door, and listen to real fans vent, say stupid things, say incredibly astute things....announcers who grew up in or near the city and follow the same sports teams the fans do and bleed the same Kelly Green, Spectacor Orange, or Milquetoast Phillies Red. None of the endless, nauseating Bubba banter you hear in these parts about SEC football (even giving a nod to the Vandy fanatics who populate this particular blogsite). Nope. Just gimme some streaming, some of the Butterscotch Krimpets I import, and lots of attytood and I'm ready to head back into the fray, to confront the legions of slime-producing rugrats.