I really should stop writing these things the night before broadcast and airing them without revision. They would be much better. That takes discipline, though, which I find to be in short supply within me. There's a laziness that pervades my days. Televisions and snack items. Periodicals and lingering aspects of hippyhood that, given room to manifest, cripple in their way.

I am writing this on October 8th, 2010. The new season is underway at WFMU. I have had lots of thoughts racing through my head of late -- lots of bees up there, stinging and winging and buzzing around. I'm sure you can tell by listening to this tortured story. We're all sorting it out as we go, I suppose, navigating our way through an ever more complex world. I'm 52 now. Lately, I've been feeling it. Feeling my age. Physically and mentally. One wonders if one has already done there best work. It's kind of daunting. What can one do do but soldier on? And as for the whining about no email, no one cares, blah, blah, blah. Don't take me too seriously. It's all in fun. That said, I would enjoy a word or two if you could focus for a moment at your keyboard. I enjoy knowing where you are writing from; what city. What nation? Nothing tickles me more than a missive from across the pond. This is not to say that an email from Jersey City doesn't rate as high. It does! It does! Especially when it's filled with bounteous compliments and pledges of ongoing devotion. I love you all, I do, and your continued allegiance matters to me, I can't hide it. Why should I? It's a two-way street. You tune in and I turn on -- getting out there on the streets, writing stories, going "live" with Fabio and the quickly-rising Julie.

Did I mention my wonderful wife? I should have. Without her, there certainly would be no Dusty Show. Her inspiration and continued support seemingly knows no bounds and I am deeply grateful. And to you, the listener, the glistener ... I owe a hearty thank you and an imaginary hand-shake. There you go. I've just done it. Your grip is firm and warm. Thank you for your support.

I'll keep it short, no need for bloated wordiness. Until next time, take care my friends -- be well -- be happy -- ... be ... -- and ... always remember.

Clayton P. Pigeon