September 24, 2012
The No Name Hour: Blackout Fallout
[...Posted by Ted H]
At one point in college, I had a lot of important people who wanted me kicked out. I'm pretty sure this night was the catalyst for that.
[Part 1 - The No Name Hour]
[The No Name Hour - Blackout Fallout]
Of coarse this wouldn’t be worth writing about if something interesting didn’t happen. All the real fun started with the annual Blackout Party. It was a school sponsored invitation only “event” which the radio station DJs would hand out tickets to people they wanted. Not much thought went into who I invited seeing how all of my tickets went to the entire circus.
The event itself was lit only with black-lights and featured live bands and occasionally DJed by Diamond, a short black woman with an irritating voice which was only amplified by an annoying laugh, an “I know better than everyone else” attitude, and the worst taste in music: Rap. She was the type of person who actually believed Rap, R&B, Hip Hop and etc were actually all individual genres of music and not just different flavors of the same turd. Over the coarse of the year, we’d always take shots at her horrible show off and on but never really talk too much about it. Rap music or its DJs are never worth talking about too much, even if you’re making fun of them.
The event itself was more or less uninteresting though the highlights include: me having to catch a falling speaker that was the size of a midget because someone thought it was a good idea to put it on an unsteady surface with the bass jacked way up…me retroactively remarking over how hard it is to distinguish how hot a woman is under black-lights…Janky Gitlow sticking a video camera in my face and asking me some dumbass question. I believe my response was on par with what Ving Rhames’ response was to a similar encounter in Dawn of the Dead. Incidentally that’s how I met Janky Gitlow…Me leaving several times because I wanted to strangle Diamond and her fucking laugh…Me spending the night in the womens dorm due in no small part to me being absolutely unable to judge a woman in the black-light.
The first No Name Hour after the “party” involved a bunch of us discussing our impressions of it. Ultimately we all shared the same opinion that Diamond was a pox on the event and we would all be better off as humans without her. I believe that was the final straw for her because she made it a point to walk down to the studio and air her displeasure with us constantly talking shit about her show.
That wasn’t the start of the night in question though. It began when I walked into the station to start the night. Someone else’s show was on and I was all set to take over. It was another Rap oriented show, this one hosted by “DJ Face”. Like my own show, he had a bunch of his friends with him serving no other purpose than company. As he was preparing to end the show…
Face: Yeah, we’re all set here. Stay tuned for DJ…uh…(to me) what’s your DJ name?
Face: …DJ Pyro-
Me: No, just “Pyro” no DJ in there.
It was stupid, and petty, but dammit, it sounded better as just “Pyro” and it’s my fucking DJ name. You wanna call yourself “DJ something-or-other” fine by me, but I’m just Pyro.
Face: Ok, Pyro.
Then he proceeded to mumble some bull shit under his breath over how much of a bitch I was being over the name. Friends laughed. This would not stand. Not that I needed to make some grand gesture over it, but fuck, I was getting the last word in on this shit.
So they all left and I set up my show with some regulars K-zilla, Magdaline, Happy-Dancer and Dominatrix as well as A-Ray. The rest of the crew were elsewhere, or were planning on joining later on in the night.
Me: Hope you enjoyed DJ Faggot, now it’s time for a better show…
And off we were. Face said shit about me, and I called him a faggot. All over. Moving on…but no, it’s never that easy.
We kill the first half hour talking to iPinch on the phone since she left the college at the end of last semester but still wanted to be apart of the show. After the call, we moved onto talking about using garbage bags as condoms before we did our usual smack talk about Diamond. Then she came down and bitched at me over it. The next five minutes were of me (on air) talking Diamond down.
Freshly rid of Diamond, I notice the phone line had been flashing. This had been occurring for the better part of my conversation with Diamond so whoever it was really wanted to talk to me. Figuring it was another pot head trying to request a Linkin Park song, I answered to find that it was in fact DJ Faggot. DJ Faggot is not amused and believes my funny one shot retaliation was a slight against his white boy gansta honor.
I decide to go against my better judgment and put this idiot on the air since going against my better judgment tends to create fun shit I can broadcast for the masses (Christ, now I know why Jersey Shore existed). DJ Faggot starts screaming incoherent bitchings, but when he drops “shit” followed by “fuck” I decide to promptly drop his call mid sentence.
Surprise, surprise, this pisses him off as well. The trooper calls back though, this time promising to keep it clean so he can bitch without interruption. I then sit back and let him whine and call me every insult under the sun while promising to return to the air tomorrow and insult me some more for his listeners, which were no one. Me on the other hand? I was gaining listeners by the second. Word was spreading quick around campus that I was fucking with some wannabe gangster moron and people were tuning in to listen to us go back and forth. Hell, the all women dorm had bitches packed in the main foyer listening and cheering on Team Pyro. They would occasionally call in to say how awesome I was and your usual fanfare of praise.
Now there are two ways you can deal with dumb white boys who think they’re gonna be the next Eminem, one way is to drop yourself to their level and have a verbal slap fight in broken Ghetto English. Another way is to use big words (ie. Words with more than two syllables) and try to hold back laughter as the idiot tries to keep up, then point out how he is struggling to keep up. Then just strait up laugh at him. Soon he will forget why he was mad at you to begin with because he is seething at you now for making him remember how dumb he really is.
Time for some backup I guess because I started to get bored and cut off DJ Faggot mid sentence again, only for his buddy DJ Sniper to call up and yell. DJ Sniper is on the completely opposite side of the equation however. Sniper was in a real gang in his life (and not some pussy ass gang either, but far be it from me to give any fucking names) and from what I’ve heard, gang members don’t take too kindly to shit like this. However, my ego is now riding high with half the campus cheering me on. Who am I to back down now? I have an adoring public to entertain!
Sniper though is also difficult to understand over the phone, and to put it bluntly, I didn’t speak black, but I did manage to hear a few “fuck”s in there so I decided to cut this guy off mid sentence as well. If I was gonna get banned from the radio station for language, it sure as shit better be because of my mouth (or probably Happy-Dancer). At this point I need to point out that everyone was getting a kick out of me cutting these idiots off the air. Reactions around campus ranged from “Oh shit, he did it AGAIN!” to “Damn right! If those dumb motha fuckers can’t talk without swearing, toss their ass!” DJ Faggot then calls back waving a white flag. He says he will drop things for now if I just stop saying his DJ name incorrectly, or rather at all, and move on to something else to talk about. I agree and the conversation ends.
Then Dominatrix (an RA who is privy to this kind of information) informs everyone of his real name.
Not his non-DJ name, we already knew that, but rather his legal name that no one was suppose to know about. Remember in 8 Mile when Eminem reveals to the crowd that Papa Doc’s real name is fucking “Clarence” and everyone loses their shit over it? Yeah well, imagine that, but DJ Faggots real name is not only all prim and proper and so non-gangsta, but it also is the exact same name as a newspaper comic character. First name and last. Everyone in the studio pretty much fall over laughing and whatever truce I just got done making went out the window as I go to town over the name on air.
Five seconds later, DJ Sniper calls in. Apparently he practiced talking in front of a mirror between calls because I could actually understand his question.
Sniper: What the FUCK is wrong with you?! We just ended this shit and you’re starting up again!
At this point Sniper begins verbally breaking down again but I catch snippets of how I should get my ass kicked for this.
I then call his bluff.
He starts flipping out again, saying how easy it would be for him to walk on over and kick my ass.
I continue calling his bluff.
And that was the final straw. Sniper then screamed that he was on his way to kick my ass so loud into his phone that his voice cracked and he sounded like a 12 year old struggling through puberty. It was hilarious, and as I laughed at him over the phone, Sniper screamed again and hung up.
Now the reality of the situation was sinking in for everyone. A large, black man with a gang history was on his way to specifically hurt me and anyone else who had the misfortune of laughing at him and DJ Faggot who was also probably on his way to watch. The rest of the circus decided they needed to clear out before the throw down began. I had no intention on leaving, my ego having swelled to the point where I was pretty sure I could take Sniper one on one.
Everyone else was ready to leave, especially Happy-Dancer, who while I wasn’t counting on directly, in the back of my mind I figured he would make a hell of a trump card in a fight. Happy-Dancer was one of those crazy martial arts mother fuckers who can’t enter hospitals without handcuffs because his hands and feet are officially recognized as lethal weapons (or so he told us). You would never guess this by looking at him. Yeah, he was clearing out with all the women, ready to leave me with Sniper. A normal person would interpret that as a cue to leave, but not me.
Then someone worse entered through the door: Diamond.
At some unknown point, Diamond started listening again to the show tonight and when Sniper left to come murder me, she either wanted a front row seat to it or to prevent the station from being closed because of the murder. She beat Sniper to the scene by about two minutes despite living in the dorm right next to the station while Sniper and DJ Faggot lived on the other side of campus. What took so long? Diamond’s dorm was packed with women in the main lobby listening to my show.
Diamond walked right in and as calm as she could say it, told me I need to end the show before someone gets killed. Then entered the station manager. The station manager wasn’t too thrilled about my show. She heard people talking about the show and when she tuned in herself, she got an earful of swearing and death threats.
Station Manager: I turn you on and all I hear is “shit!” and “fuck!” Do you know how much fucking trouble we can get in?
I must mention that I’m still on air at the time so the station manager swearing at me for having people swear on my show while live on the air strikes me as humorous. And me laughing only pisses her off more. Get in line baby, you’re not the first person I’ve pissed off in the last hour.
Sniper then shows up all geared up for a fight with DJ Faggot cowering behind him. Sniper is about six foot four, maybe taller. The station manager is about five feet and a half. Sniper never sees her as he enters the station. Still laughing, I motion Sniper to look down. Sniper glances downward, screams “I don’t give a fuck,” and then the station manager turns all of her short angry fury towards him, screaming for him to get the fuck out. Sniper and DJ Faggot retreat as quickly as they barged in, me still laughing, the rest of the circus too scared to move or just up and running away.
And I’m STILL on the air.
Things calm down and I’m told to shut it down mainly because Roger was sent the order for the station to shut down until everything could be sorted out. Deciding not to wait for security to “escort” me out the hard way, I leave under my own power, thus ending the greatest No Name Hour ever. But we’re not done here.
Sniper decides to wait for me in my dorm. By the time I actually get back, his better judgment takes over and he settles for some under his breath comment as we pass in the hall. But because I’m me, I decide to escalate.
Sniper: Pssh…*mumble* fucking stupid *more mumble*
Me: We all know you’re fucking stupid, but you really shouldn’t be so down on yourself like that.
And Sniper then turns and decides he wants to fight me again. And once again, a woman gets in his face and intimidates him before he can act. This time it was Dominatrix who gets in his face and kicks him out with a couple R.A.s suddenly flanking her. Did I mention Dominatrix isn’t just an R.A. but the Head R.A. of the dorm? Because she then told the R.A.s on duty to call security if they even see him outside the dorm.
At this point, as long as I stay in my dorm, no harm should come to me. I decide top leave anyway out of my own arrogance. Like I said before, an entire lobby was packed with women listening to me, and I had every intention of visiting that dorm. My public awaited me, and I needed to grace them with my presence. This last paragraph wasn’t important to the story, but I included it anyway just to point out how awesome I was that night.