WVUM.

Can I share something with you?

Something like a "burn book?" You remember - the "burn book" from "Mean Girls," Lindsay Lohan's last, best, only movie?

In case you never saw Tina Fey's first notable cinematic masterpiece, it's about... like... middle school or something. I don't remember, it was dumb. What I do remember is that it was the first and last time I saw Lindsay Lohan do anything noteworthy besides snort bags and bags and bags of blow (awesome! You're like my marching powder hero! How do you DO it?!) and have DUI accidents (not awesome!)

Anyhoo - a burn book is where you compile a page in a book about what you hate about someone you don't like.

And I have one.

And, unfortunately, it's a D.J. on WVUM, the University of Miami's radio station.

I'm going to preface this post (rather belatedly) with a plug: I. LOVE. WVUM.

LOVE IT.

I think it's an amazing college station, and I think it brings us the newest, coolest music.

If you want cool, new available (and even then, sometimes not) music, 90.5, WVUM FM is the place to go. It allows me, a 20-something, square lawyer, to go to the places where the "kids" go, and be familiar with the music.

BUT.

This year, there was a notable shift in DJs.

I guess I got spoiled, listening to the same voices from the past four (six?) years.

Like Kyle. I loved Kyle. I developed a radio crush on his weird, adenoidal, stoned delivery. Heck, I even spoke to him once to ask what a "Blue Ribbon" song was called! (It turned out that I later became friends with the subject of the Blue Ribbon song, but that's a different story for a different post.)

And there were the other DJs with their sexy voices and their good taste in music who I grew to love over the past years...

And this year, all that changed.

Don't get me wrong, there are some good DJs, but I'm about to rant about one.

And, D.J. MED, this is for your own good - I say this out of love:

I loathe listening to you. Hate it. Spin the songs, and speak as little as possible. When ever you're on, I want to change the channel. And you're on a lot.

Your delivery is halting and obtuse. It's "hurry up and wait" and you try to interject political dialogue into your radiocasts, and frankly: they fall FLAT ON THEIR FACE. You're not a smart woman - that's FINE, but don't jump into the deep end without your waterwings and your kickboard!

It's awful listening to you... It's like listening to a shy seven-year-old deliver a book report to the entire second grade the first week in September.

Painful.

Awkward.

Badly-cadenced.

Play your music. Don't talk to me about the war in Iraq. Don't field calls - you're not equipped to have the conversation. Just... let me know what else Beirut or the Killers or Hot Chip or Simian Mobile Disco has come out with, and we'll all be happy. I'll listen to great music without looooooooooooooooong, painful, erratic and idiotic, awkwardly-phrased commentary about irrelevant subject matter, and you'll earn yet another fan.

Everybody wins.

Here's the thing: you're in college. Your U.S. History class is a great platform for your viewpoints.

Your public radio show... is not. Because... you're too young to have valid viewpoints, and I can tell you that, because I'm only five years older than you are.

So, can the chatter, and put on a disc.

And let's rock.