
We'd like to thank Mr. Howlend once again for answering our call and for the wonderful interview he gave us here at the KDTH studio. Now I’ve received a lot of questions about Roy in the past couple of days, such as "What’s he like?" or "What’s he thinking?" or even "What’s his problem?!" And one listener – sounded like a European guy from out of town -- called in to ask what he was wearing “to the interview.” As if he had a set of interview clothes he changed into before stopping by the station. Puh-leez. This ain’t TV, folks. No one is worked up about how we look. On TV, all your newsmen have haircuts so gelled up it looks like they could deflect a small caliber bullet.
But for that fashion-curious listener out there, I’ll indulge you. I tell you, it looked like his gear was from, I dunno...everywhere. He had a cheetah jacket, with a hood made out of a cheetah's head, fur and skull, the works, but he let that hang in the back behind his collar, if he'd worn the hood up it probably would've looked like his head was getting eaten by half a cheetah mouth. God knows where he got that item, doesn't sound like American Apparel would have that in stock, but they should, shouldn't they? And he had jeans with all these painted designs on 'em. And snakeskin boots. But they looked fake, didn't they, Ed? I bet they were fake. The kid didn’t strike me as the type who’d get too excited about ‘authenticity.’
Now some of you other callers are asking about all the bastards he's up against: the Voodoo Queen, the Aztec God, Vampire Jake, drag sirens, G-Khan.... Some of these guys, I mean man! Have you seen these pictures? Of course you have! Still you'd barely believe it. Who's crazy enough to face off any of these bad guys? "Adult" Roy, huh?? Makes you wonder if the boy is some kind of psycho! But you know, I'm an optimist, something tells me he's just a kid compulsively looking for adventure in a world that’s lost all romantic credibility...I really do believe that.
We have to take a quick break, but we'll be right back after this, to interview a girl (whose real name we will not disclose) who says that just last Thursday she barely escaped the most radical new cult on the scene, the Straw Dogs of Hecate. For all you hopefuls out there, I hear that if you're a beautiful virgin broad and you're pious as hell, you've got a good chance of getting in! Stay tuned.
About Us:
KDTH is set up in a former RV, or at least the remains of one that was abandoned down at the Stovepipe Wells campsite parking lot back in summer of 1990. Most reckon it was some hapless retired couple who neglected to read the fine print under the “Welcome to Death Valley, California” signs. No one should be coming out here in the summer. The tourists get nervous if they see too many vehicular carcasses dotting the roadways. And now that miners have finished sucking the mineral guts out of Death Valley, tourism is everything. Like the remains of Charles Manson’s hideout. Or the legendary pancake joint in Stovepipe Wells. A big biker destination.
The Racetrack:
It’s not an actual racetrack. But it can make your heart race. And your mind will follow. But there’s nothing literally racing on it unless some hot-shots are out there daring each other, testing their wheels on ground that looks like it belongs to another planet. Or another planet's moon. The Racetrack is just a flat, caked, sun-baked geological formation in the Mojave Desert. But it plays more tricks on your brain than a season’s supply of the peyote that bored LA teenagers scarf down in Joshua Tree, looking for kicks while they persuade themselves they’re on some Native American ‘journey.’
The Racetrack is just Mother Nature served up so unadorned that you can’t tell what’s what. It’s sun, air, a diabolical whisper or two of ever-shifting moisture to keep the visual information from adding up to anything reliable. And of course cracking desert earth. It shimmers. It’s a mirage-breeder. Depending on the time of day and where you’re standing, it can look like a lake.
The Desert:
Deserts excel at painting confusion in every direction. Then again, deserts are where visionaries go to see God, or to seek truths. Stuff we’re blind to elsewhere shows up in deserts. Or stuff we can’t face elsewhere just heads to deserts to hide out and await those who can stomach meeting it there. And I don’t mean by taking peyote. The real trippers know it. Reality is stranger than drugs.
...Annnnnnd, we are back, folks, I'm Lee Reynolds on ninetey two point' - - [click]
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