It's hard to ignore preparation within the entertainment field. At some point though you just have to cast inhibitions into the wind, and let your inner creative beast do the dirty work. It is with great sadness that I report John Mccormick, who is heard here, had his inner creative beast pass on to the netherworld. It was reincarnated as a creative sloth with the intellect of a bag full of sand.
This isn't exactly rare for John to launch himself headlong into a "report" without taking a quick gander at it beforehand. I really don't think he minds though. He's gotten to that age where any normal sense of regret, or embarrassment has for the most part gone out the window. It takes a while. Nearly an entire lifetime, but we will all turn that corner, set up shop, and give ass backwards directions to whomever also makes it around the bend of senility . We will not be sitting on the telephone in a trailer broadcasting such notions on the radio however.
If you've already listened to the clip go back and give it another run through. Note the eloquent way he butchers each word, running it down with a combine, chopping it to bits. Each pause building anticipation as to what could possibly come next.
This isn't exactly the hateful by any stretch of the imagination, but I felt that it would be a good example of what we have to work with. We shall see what evil lurks in the future. Until we meet again, salutations.
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