(ex)Plosives

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Plosives are explosive to my ears

plo⋅sive
  /ˈploʊsɪv/ Pronunciation [ploh-siv]

Use plosive in a Sentence:

While listening to the Mamas & The Papas on her iPod, Penelope played with her purple platypus, punting papayas peacefully, until a plosive exploded and ripped off her fucking head.

–adjective
1. (of a stop consonant or occlusive) characterized by release in a plosion; explosive.

–noun
2. Also called explosive. a plosive speech sound.

Origin:
1895–1900; shortened form of explosive

Speaking into a microphone is frightening for many, but I’ve long since learned how to get the butterflies to fly in formation. However, I can’t always ensure that their erratic flight will not find them smashed against the speeding windshield of technical difficulties. Jennifer and I are experiencing this in spades, these days.

The “P” sound is the perfect example of a potentially catastrophic plosive in the recording world. Couple that with wireless technology that waivers and flutters, digital audio that isn’t nearly as warm and forgiving as analogue tape, plus less than stellar equipment by which we attempt to record our shtick. Sometimes, it makes the shtick sound like shit…to me.

I’m an audiophile. No, that doesn’t mean I organize my CD collection in alphabetical order. I don’t have a CD collection. In fact, I collect nothing but memories, which isn’t necessarily a less expensive hobby, but you don’t have to dust nearly as much or worry about shipping charges should you decide to move.

I like quality audio. Playing on the internet with podcasts is an exercise in detachment, for me, since I tend to pull my hair out and fear my head exploding as I attempt to edit and minimize painful audio problems that drive me nuts, yet leave others blinking incredulously and obliviously at what I consider sheer torture.

Today’s episode of Big Shooz™ has nothing to do with plosives, directly, and you may not detect but little of their explosive residue, like bomb fragments embedded in the words next to them as they go off from time to time, but trying to clean them up while witnessing their impact is much akin to being an IED disposal expert in Fallujah.

It is an ugly mess and the carnage is everywhere, from my perspective. Thankfully, perhaps, I can censor most of it so the families and loved ones back home don’t know just how bad it really is. It takes its toll, however, and makes me less willing to get up to greet a new day in the hopes that the explosions will dissipate and I can just get back to some form of normalcy.

Jennifer and I are spoiled by years of using high-end studio equipment that was maintained by engineers who were trained to do only that while we were, uh, trained in the art of being class clowns. Unlike the Middle East, no one has died or been horribly maimed by any of my humor, plus my brand of comedy is not funded by the taxpayers. If one of my jokes bombs, the only casualty is the amount of time it took you to be offended, annoyed or wait for a reason to guffaw.

Perhaps one day we will have a top-notch studio environment, again, but until then we will continue our best efforts to bring a pleasurable listening experience to you, which will hopefully include some humor and thought-provoking conversation. However, I refuse to put out an audio product that doesn’t live up to my minimum standard though others might say it sounds fine.

For now, today’s podcast remains in all of its electronically garbled glory and gobbledygook, but we’re working behind the scenes to find and correct the audio problems. This may take time, money and technical expertise, so if we don’t have a new Big Shooz™ show ready to go, soon, then we would appreciate your patience and understanding.

Please remember that, though everything may seem fine to you, there are some of us who think and feel otherwise. While your focus is on the lighthearted banter, silliness and superficial bickering, there are some real problems that require real solutions.

In fact, continuing to look for ways to nervously laugh, have fun and distract yourself with mediocrity without seeking a real and lasting solution will only ensure that some of us can never be comfortable, some of us will continue to suffer and some of us will never come home.

Stop pretending that it isn’t your problem, that it’s over there or you don’t really hear or see anything to be worried about. Stop expecting someone else to do something about it. Stop refusing to get your hands dirty or bloody while complaining about the talking heads as you bury your head in the sand or bury your sons and daughters, sisters and brothers and mothers and fathers.

Try burying your partisan politics, your pride and prejudice and your divisive, exclusionary morals, ethics and misplaced values. Plosives never hurt anyone. Explosives are ripping this planet apart.

Plosives or explosives don’t kill people. People kill people. When will you stand up and scream, “Stop the madness!” When will you stop pretending that what you’re hearing and seeing are not excruciatingly painful – if not to you, then to your fellow man, woman and child?

When will you, finally, have enough compassion and courage to take a stand and make a difference? Today feels about right, don’t you think? Or do you? Think and feel, that is.

The Kat