Alright, Dan Moulthrop, we get it. You’re the world’s most amazing person. You’re intelligent, friendlier than a Jesuit at Happy Hour, and unlike us, you're rarely drunk on a Tuesday morning.
Oh, and that show you host on 90.3 WCPN, The Sound of Ideas
, it’s pretty damn good public radio. We gave it a Best of Cleveland
award, because it invites newsmakers, journalists, and regular folks to dissect the stories behind the latest headlines. ...
How you landed in Cleveland is beyond us. Shouldn’t you be in some bustling metropolis, like Pittsburgh?
But your latest stunt takes it too far. You’re already going to end up in heaven, Dan, or wherever it is people from Berkeley go when they bio-degrade. Yet just when we thought we did something good by giving our leftover shake to a glaucoma patient, you send us an email asking for our help in your quest to cure cancer
, which, knowing you, you'll probably have wrapped up by Memorial Day:
Hey there, friends,
Some of you might think this is totally goofy (and it is), but on St.
Patrick's Day, I'm going to shave my head for charity, and I need your help.
Here's the pitch: We're fighting childhood cancer. I shave my head on March 17th, you sponsor me with whatever feels good ($50 feels pretty good; $100 feels like nirvana) and together, we do more than just raise awareness, we raise serious cash. The event is called St. Baldrick's Day (a whimsical twist on St. Patrick, but obviously, wherever there's cancer, there's a good likelihood you'll find bald heads), and last year, people like you contributed more than $12 million to efforts to fund research and make clinical trials available to more kids. Some of the money also goes to fellowships to encourage the best and the brightest aspiring young doctors to get into the business of fighting childhood cancer.
Jose Cuervo: Apparently it doesn’t grow on trees.
Listen, Dan Moulthrop: We realize we’re never going to be a Dan Moulthrop. Dan Moulthrops only come once every third or fourth generation. They’re like prophets, only with cool zip-front sweaters. And while there’s no way we’d shave off our Aveda nourished tufts, helping you out might get us some karma, or whatever Chez Panisse
goodness your people give in return. So we’ll do our best to pitch-in by purchasing one fewer round of Cuervo shots after work tonight, and send the money your way instead … you godamned public-radio saint, you.
(By the way, we’re using the money we were planning on pledging to your radio station. You think Cuervo grows on trees?) – Bradley Campbell