And So I Quit the Police Department...

Well folks, if you missed last week's broadcast, I should probably catch you up.  Still reeling from the abrupt rescheduling of my annual Independence Day Show -- which had been moved to make room for the four-day programming block dubbed "Larry and Munch's Fart of July Extravaganza" -- I ended up making a few unplanned departures from my set list.  One of those departures involved calling KTSH's media conglomerate owner, Corporacorp, and leaving the CEO a voicemail message, the content of which probably fell somewhere between thoughtful list of grievances and vitriolic personal attack.  Much to this spacefaring DJ's surprise, the CEO called me back -- via the satellite phone on her zeppelin -- and offered to reward my apparently marketable insubordination with an improved timeslot and probable syndication opportunities.  After a brief and unsettling chat, I politely declined her thirty pieces of silver and handed in my verbal resignation.

That's right, friends.  I quit.  I joined the ranks of Edward VIII, Patrick McGoohan, David Lee Roth and Sammy Hagar in requesting that my employer kindly take this job and shove it.  (R.I.P. Johnny Paycheck.)

Quitting takes its toll, folks.  I got off the air, marched straight down to my lunar storage module, dug out an old bottle of Christian Brothers brandy (a gift from Harry Nilsson with the instructions "For Emergencies Only"), drew the curtains, threw on a Billie Holiday record, and set to nursing my wounds while the lady sang the blues.  I had some reflecting to do, and reflect I did.

Was leaving the station that's broadcast my signal for the better part of four decades a momentous decision?  Sure.  And like most of the momentous decisions in my life, it was made impulsively just before one o'clock on a weeknight.  But that doesn't mean it was a bad decision.  Of course there's some nervousness and uncertainty that comes with stepping out into the unknown.  Even now, days later, I've got my share of butterflies flapping around in the ol' kettle drum.  But I'll tell ya, in the week since I packed up my proverbial cubicle, I've also felt an exhilarating sense of liberation.  The stars above the Lost Moon haven't looked so full of possibility in a long time.