Interesting things happened today.

First, my economics teacher pronounced ration as "ray-shun" on two different occassions. "Ray-shunning." I could hear a tiny voice in my head screaming for euthanasia.

During economics (which I abhor), we watched a movie about the Great Depression. At some point it was talking about Charles Lingburgh, and they showed this tickertape parade that was thrown for him in NYC. I noticed all the confetti and paper streamers, and all I could think was "I bet a lot of that is still sitting in Times Square."

Today, a local radio station (KTSR 92.1 for those playing at home) aired its last song and promptly closed afterwards. It was a fitting end, as the guilloutine was operated with Led Zepplin's "Stairway to Heaven" as the executioner. Part of me wants to be a jerk and say that they wanted to find the longest song that fit their "hardcore rock" demographic, mentality, and hopeless image (if you call yourself hardcore and then proceed to play Limp Bizkit, think long and hard about how pathetic you really are), and that they simply tried to milk their audiences for every last ounce of pity. But even I will miss the station a bit. It wasn't spectacular but it was passable, like a 4 out of 10. It was actually quite interesting - the final bow. They played the song, said "Thank you for listening to KTSR 92 Rock," and it went silent. I left the station on just to experience the ethereal mood - it was dark and distant and black. You could feel a sort of choking fog slowly lifting upward. Some eviscerated limb that faints away. After a few minutes, some static interrupted the monolith quarter, which gave way to far off sounds of men talking. I listened and discovered that this "new" station was coming from a city some two hours away. Really intriguing, I guess radio signals can simply overlap and extend to dead space? I've taken physics but I care about "feh" much about it.

The end of anything, really, despite its ordained extensions (or lack thereof) still pulls at my strings, so I feel some sort of void. This, of course, despite that I give the station a 4 out of 10.

Doesn't mean I won't consider it thereafter, the names of men, seven thousand. Lost.