The Manchester Review
James Robison
Radio Talkers
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            Or Calvin was a lay preacher and you’d think he might say, Going to the Steak ‘N Shake for coffee, you want one?
            No. Didn’t. Never.
            No friends, no nothing, just make the fucking gloves and do not lose your hand and try to ignore Arthur Godfrey.
            A.G. told listeners about his politics, airplanes, Waikiki, tea. Ads for tea. With a stuffed up nose he said whatever the hell came into his head including all about his detestable horse, Goldie.
            No one has enough talk to fill three hours a day, not Nietzsche or Shakespeare or that Roman orator, and here’s a freckled person talking on radio five days a week for years.
            On radio you should say, The recording you are about to hear is Beethoven’s overlooked opera, Leonore, the original 1805 three act version of what became the two act, Fidelio, and this is an Archiv Produktion issue with John Martine Gardiner conducting the Orchestra Revolutionnaire et Romantique and includes the Monteverdi Choir and features Hellivi Martinpelto in the title role of Leonore, Alastair Miles in the role of Don Fernando, Matthew Best as Don Pizzaro, Kim Begley as Florestan, Franz Hawlatta as Rocco, the soprano, Christiane Oezle, as Rocco’s daughter and the tenor, Michael Schade, as Jaquino.
            And then go away.
            Why didn’t Arthur Godfrey shut the fuck up?
            Goldie is sick, he might say. He hired people to surround him and pretend aloud that what he said was interesting.
            Aw, his on-air employees would say. You love that horse so, Arthur.
            In the factory, Richard Bangs would say, Did you hear that, Hazel? Goldie is sick.
            I’m like, Glove 801, 02.