"Cro" has the distinction of being at KFI longer than anybody else with the exception of the legendary Mike Nolan... not sure if that should be a point of pride, but there you go. Michael started as a board operator for tons of shows, including the L.A. Raiders(yes, they were on KFI), Marilyn Kagan and Phil Hendrie, where he ended up writing for many of Phil's "guests". Michael also performed and co-wrote many of the skits and parody songs played during the Bill Handel Morning Show. He was eventually thrown into the newsroom as an anchor, where he works the much envied weekend shift. His versatility (lack of social life) allows him to fill virtually any time slot on the station. That's why you might hear him any time of the day or night... or weekend... or overnight... or Christmas Day... or New Years Eve. You get the picture.
This blog may contain profanity and/or material considered inappropriate. The views expressed in this blog are the opinions of the individual writer and do not necessarily reflect the views of KFI AM-640 and Clear Channel Radio.
Chris Rock once said a father’s job is to keep his son off the pipe and his daughter off the pole. In this case, Eddie’s mother is so verbally abusive and alcoholically crazy that she drives her son to make a living off of his pipe/pole. The stories of those in the sex industry with histories of virulent, unconscionable mistreatment from their parents are omnipresent, although a goodly number of them claim to simply be exhibitionists. The odds are good, however, that if this is your child’s chosen field – however noble a cause it might be to provide vicarious release to the anonymous lonely folk of the world – you may have messed up somewhere along the line.
It seems that Amber Waves was born a few decades too early. In the early 1980s, being a porn star with a history of drug abuse and trouble with the law meant that you would be denied custody of and probably even visitation rights to your child, forcing you to cobble together what family you could amongst the people drifting in the same morass of emotional wreckage that you are. These days, it would probably land you, your child and your entire extended family a reality show on E! for fourteen seasons.
Marital fidelity is a tricky thing to navigate in the porn industry, naturally, but it’s perhaps not a good idea to treat your partner’s concerns like this, as if they’re nothing more than the inconvenient distraction of a noisy yap-dog watching you have sex with other people as a form of public entertainment. Sooner or later, your henpecked Little Bill may deny you the chance to experience the 1980s, or anything else ever again.
It’s certainly never easy to let other people know that you like them, and it’s much less so when you’re gay and you have no idea if they are. Although Scotty had plenty of filmed evidence to the contrary, he nonetheless bought a car because he thought Dirk would like it, all as an excuse to try to force a kiss onto him. If that’s the way you choose to come out of the closet, it will probably leave you believing that you’re a fucking idiot, too.
The allure of the gun-toting, fast-paced world of crime is that it seems like easy money, but you can never underestimate the chaos of gunplay. Buck Swope just went into Dunkin’ Donuts to get his pregnant lady some bearclaws, and thanks to an inconveniently-timed robber and an inconveniently-timed vigilante resulting in an all-too-convenient bloodbath, the only person that crime wound up paying was Buck, who happened to need some stereo equipment store capital.
Those of us who grew up in the 1980s had our brains melt a bit when Marky Mark Wahlberg, in the middle of this epic porn saga, started belting out Stan Bush’s “The Touch” with all the style and aplomb that you’d expect from a man who got famous as a rapper with the Funky Bunch. There’s a certain amount of love in our heart for that song thanks to its heroic connotations for Optimus Prime, but listening to a washed up Dirk Diggler croak out its cheesy lyrics in a recording studio while thinking it’s his ticket to the top made us realize that it isn’t much better than “Feel My Heat.” The heat will not roll you.
Amidst all the toil and trouble that bubbles and bubbles throughout this film, Eddie’s life is not without some successes, and when they don’t center around his tremendous dong, they spring from his choice of nomenclature. The name “Dirk Diggler” appears to him on a big sign with bright blue neon lights with, like, purple outline, and that name is just so bright and so sharp that the sign, it just blows up because the name is just so powerful, but that’s not all. When it comes time to create his signature on-screen character, lightning strikes twice for him with Brock Landers, and his partner Chest Rockwell.
This lesson is pretty well spelled out by The Colonel here. If you are a cocaine enthusiast and women keep overdosing on you and harshing your buzz – like, multiple times in the span of a couple of days – you might want to look into changing your narcotics suppliers and search for someone more reputable with which to procure your illicit substances.
Common sense will tell you that when you’re trying to sell a bunch of drugs to a Night Ranger-crooning Alfred Molina with his bathrobe hanging open while some guy randomly sets off firecrackers all over the place, you’re going to want to handle those negotiations with a certain amount of finesse. You certainly do not want to put this volatile transaction in the hands of a coked-up Thomas Jane who is secretly determined to rob the place without so much as a heads up. This goes hand-in-hand with the earlier lesson about crime not paying the right people, too.
Eddie Adams knew from the beginning that everyone is blessed with one special thing, and that his special thing was much like Navin R. Johnson’s Special Purpose. However, being able to identify your particular talent and/or gift does not necessarily mean you’ll make the best use of it. For a time, once he became Dirk Diggler, he certainly made the most out of his sizable skin flute, but such bright starlight burns out fast, and he nearly ends where he began – masturbating in strangers’ cars for money. It would really have behooved him to learn a trade instead of putting all his eggs in one slab of miracle meat.