A comrade-in-broadcasting recently chatted me up
on Facebook, lamenting his disgust for the current
crop of fly-by-night, wannabe "dj" posers, whose
only apparent requisite is their boisterous screaming-faggot
laughter, if anything else. Unsurprisingly, these
comedy bar rejects couldn't string an adlib together
off the top of their discolored, mousse-laden pinheads.
In so many words, they couldn't adlib their way out of a
paperbag. This, sadly, is the current crap, err.. crop of
on-air creatures.
Newsflash: Di porke't malakas tawa mo, "dj" ka na!?
I'm glad I got outta the game long ago.
Gives a whole new meaning to quitting while you're ahead.
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