The Rest of the Story

God bless Paul Harvey, but I really do wish he would...[insert something here about that giant mic in the sky]. He is a radio institution and his “Rest of the Story” segment is probably as recognizable as the softdrink with the white script on red background. But it is exactly that segment that so rankles my nerves I want to reach through my radio and strangle his wrinkled little turkey neck every time I hear that grating, quavering, old-man voice croak “Paaaaaaul Harvey. Good day!” Why? Because I really couldn’t give a darn what the rest of the story is! Am I supposed to feel better about my lowly self upon being “surprised” that Joe Famous Person started life scrubbing toilets? Am I supposed to thank Mr. Harvey and say, “Oh chucks, Mr. Harvey, you yanked my chain, insulted my intelligence and dragged out a five-second factoid into a Dickens novel. Gee thanks. Oh, and I'll be taking three of those Bose Wave radios please.” (I've got another story about those Wave radios....)

I absolutely love radio. I grew up listening to radio dramas well after they’d become “quaint” so I certainly have respect for the timelessness of old-timey radio. Paul Harvey is timeless. In fact, he was probably just as annoying back when he had to dot-dash-dash-dot-dot-dot-dash-dot-dash-dot his call letters on a telegraph key!