I don’t have the mouth, voice endurance, will, compulsiveness, or spontaneity to be a radio talk-show host. The one time I called in I almost panicked, having the dry mouth side effect take over, resulting in near silence. Somehow I managed to rasp out my single simple comment. The female host realised my personality type and hung up on me. Once I fully cognised my moment was over and stopped trying to talk, I wiped the phone clear of the palm sweat that had dripped on it as I tried to dial in. On the introvert to extrovert scale, in a certain mood or context, I’m adjacent to the zero point, not quite at the medical intervention state. In contrast, the talk show person is near to the high end, just below medical intervention, for altogether different reasons.
The guys who do question-answer I get. They have mental twists and turns, new thoughts donated from callers, politicians, or athletes. With some liquid magic shyness-breaking potion (booze) I could probably banter on like that for a couple of hours – especially if three of each ten minutes were for pre-recorded advertisements, mostly by car dealers. It would give me time to refresh the previously mentioned potion, literally taking away the dry-mouth, and simultaneously working overtime on the cause of it: nerves. At the end of two hours, I’d either be passed out or fired.
But those ‘hosts’ who don’t take calls or do interviews, instead choosing to rant away on their own for four hours – now they’re the real pros. Incessant blabbermouths to some, genuine heroic geniuses to others, admirable either way.
I can venture out on a solitary extended drive and visit imaginary friends for a few hundred miles, but most of what we share is babble – baloney to anybody at all, except us.
But that guy on the radio could set a Guinness record at the filibuster.