Posted at 11:17 AM on September 8, 2008
by Sanden Totten
TV can't seem to keep it's hands off public radio! First it was the intellectual stylings of This American Life. Then Car Talk went cartoon. And now CBS is piloting the NPR quiz show "Wait, Wait . . . Don't Tell Me!" as a game show.
I've pondered previously about why TV is suddenly so interested in its nerdier less popular cousin. My guess is that TV execs are secretly jealous of public radio's devoted listeners. If you're reading this blog, you're probably like me, a self-describe public radio junkie. What station wouldn't want some of that demographic?
But can you really translate that to TV? It doesn't look like Car Talk did that well. Reviews of the TAL show have been fairly good. But has it won over folks who never heard of Ira Glass before? And how much of the show's core audience jumped from the airwaves to Showtime? Or did they just wait for the season one DVD to become a pledge drive gift?
Either way, CBS is now getting in the game too. Truthfully, "Wait, Wait . . ." seems like a good bet. But if it does well, will public radio shows and TV become like comic books and Hollywood - where the success of a few crossovers inspire the industry to go mad and buy up every half-baked franchise out there?
And for the record, In The Loop is still waiting for its offer from HBO.
Posted at 5:24 PM on September 8, 2008
by Sanden Totten
Was it the surreal theatrics? Was it the triumphant speeches? Was it the faint hint of teargas on the breeze? What ever it was, something about the RNC inspired our listeners to send in some poems about the past week.
The first comes from Guthrie Horgan of Chaska:
Tear gas and bottles
and maybe some feces?
eight hundred charges
as RNC ceases.
Bloggers and anarchists
rubbed shoulders with rioteers,
and muddied the waters
of two dueling pioneers.
St. Paul rests quiet
and gives a small sigh
as frenzy abates
over some old guy.
And Carol Pearce Bjorlie of St. Paul sent us this verse:
Whose cafe this is, I think I know,
the streets are all so different, though
they're clean, and fenced, right up to here,
let's pray for Gustave, ice or snow.
The RNC must think it queer
to have the Democrats so near
between the river and the lake
the darkest evening of their year.
The old Black Dog gives a shake
and asks, "Could this be some huge mistake?"
The only other sounds the sweep
of lying lies from the biggest flake.
Our Cafe is lovely, dark and deep
but Democrats have promises to keep
and sixty five days before we sleep,
and sixty five days before we sleep.
Got your own take on the RNC? Posted it below. Also, if something in the news sets your imagination ablaze, write us a poem and send it to our show. Click here for details.