THE PANHANDLING BROADCAST SYSTEM
Covering the Left's Enormous Asses since 1965
The mentality engendered by employment within PBS aside, another aspect of working at KQED involved dealing with NABET, the station’s labor union. Given the work ethic and attitude with which the membership approached their jobs, the acronym stood for Not A Bit of Effort, Twerp.
The scheduling department, with which I had to deal on an hourly basis, presented the only upside to this situation. The three main people, Jim, Jerry, and Simon must have gone home every night and beaten the dog, given the obstacles consistently put in their way. Their boss, Larry, should have been canonized during his tenure.
Requesting even an hour’s time of one of the 682 skilled laborers present at KQED generated enough paperwork, Prilosec, and Sturm Und Drang to mount a summit meeting between superpowers.
I called scheduling with a simple request for a one hour voice-over for a documentary on, ironically, Harry Bridges, the famous Longshoremen’s union leader.
Simon: “Scheduling. Dis is Simon.”
Me: “Simon, it’s George in unit managers. I need an hour of audio this afternoon.”
Simon: “I don’t have anybody.”
Me: “I saw a couple hundred of the NABET guys down at the Slo-Club, great name for a hang out for them by the way, having a 27 course lunch.”
Simon: “Yes, Dey on break.”
Me: “I get it. When dey back from break, can I get one of the audio guys or gals to record some V.O. in the booth at three o’clock?”
Simon: “Two.”
Me: “Okay, two o’clock, but I don’t think they’ll even be through the soup course by then.”
Simon: “No. You need two people to run audio in booth.”
Me: “First of all, I didn’t think you had anybody. Second, that booth isn’t big enough for one person, let alone two. What are they going to do?”
Simon: “One to adjust microphone. Other runs tape machine.”
Me: “Are you F&$KING kidding me?”
Simon: “No. Is in NABET rules book. Section 22, para—”
Me: “What does the microphone adjuster do while the other person is running the tape machine?”
Simon: “Fills out timecards for session.”
Me: “Okay, fine.”
Simon: “Send me FAX, two copies of session script, name of actor on AFTRA contract, AFTRA contract in triplicate, radio and TV buy, and name of good place to buy miniature television set.”
Me: “What?”
Simon: “Kids want TV for car. It runs off cigarette lighter input. Very clever.”
****
I made up the part about the 27 course lunch. Might have only been 22.
KQED’s management staff, as befits the personality of a bunch of touchy-feely Marin County types, had zero interest in actually lodging consistent complaints about NABET. When any of the production people brought problems to me, I requested that a discussion with scheduling and the shop steward might be in order.
No one wanted to do that. Long after I left, the union, the feckless producers, and their helpmates in top-heavy management cratered the station’s General Ledger and led to less effective local programming and even fewer documentaries for which the station could claim credit. That trend continues to this day.
But by golly, trotting out Bill Moyers to slam conservatives or binge-running (No one binge watches PBS, except for Downton Abbey) alternative lifestyle short films, satisfies the sanctimonious.
And I ain’t talking about the viewership.
Can’t properly bid this section a proper farewell without a few words on Pledge, the scourge of anything worthwhile to watch on PBS. It is the interrupter of any rhythm and appreciation of public television. If Pledge could be taken outside and shot, I’d be breach loading the shotgun and walking into my backyard to do it.
Pledge runs 52 weeks out of the year, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, or it just feels like that. The rest of the time, the local affiliate or national feed consists of worthwhile educational programs and family oriented fare that crosses all borders of gender, faith, ethnicity, and sexual orientation.
Sure it does.
And, as much as I’d like to post a typical Pledge Pitch for a few laughs, I haven’t taken enough Xanax in my life to pull out of the pit of despair into which I would plummet. Don’t think I can bring myself to recount the dialogue from the usual tag team of the effeminate Castrati and the cloyingly solicitous Manhattanite doyenne trying their level best to separate us from $50 for a copy of The Mario Lanza Diet Book.
I am moving on from PBS. You should too. I realize there is a dearth of educational alternative viewing stations out there such as The Discovery Channel, NatGeo, Hallmark, SCI, The History Channel, Ovation, Animal Planet, NASA TV, C-SPAN (Cough), Curiosity Stream, The Travel Channel, The Golf Channel, NFL Network, MLB, NHL, and the various international feeds from other countries that any basic cable package will provide.
And there’s just so darned little On-Demand and PPV that making a $50 donation to the elites seems like a fair trade. That and the Gazillion Dollars sent to those losers every year, some of which is hoovered out of your taxes, whether anyone at the CPB will confess to it or not.
Yes, the American public should just keep falling for the “Could you really take Sesame Street away from your children.?” Or as a PBS newscast would put it, “Could you really allow the blood-thirsty, evil Republicans to take away the opportunity for poor little children of minority parents to have access to the same programs as the spoiled-rotten, glow-in-the-dark spawn of Satanic conservatives?”
And now, back to the private sector.
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