As I Listen To NPR And Drink Coffee, I Wonder How Far A Stick Will Go Up My Ass


*DING* The coffee is done. I pour a piping hot cup and clasp my hands around the mug. I take a deep inhale of the fresh brew like an attractive model in a commercial of some sort. My first sip is cautious of the temperature. Slowly and gently, I nod my head: “good coffee” I think to myself.

It’s a quiet morning, and not too much after 7 AM. I haven’t quite decided how to start my day and have the idea to turn on NPR while rummaging around looking for inspiration, or even a direction of where to head. It seemed like a good sense of background noise, and maybe I’d even catch up on some news.

I’m half listening to what’s going on—some field reporter is at the US Senate—as I aimlessly click around on the internet refreshing social media sites, knowing full well I don’t have any new notifications (how sad), and hating everything saved in my flash-drive. I take another sip of coffee, and what’s this…

There seems to be a stick making it’s way into my ass.

Seems out of place, but I think nothing of it initially. I keep meandering around my computer and still, to no avail, I’m searching for answers to start my day. The NPR field reporter sets up a voiceover quote that’s coming. A senator speaks; he’s proposing a change to the current state of affairs in some doctrine I’m unfamiliar with. I think to myself, “What’s that all about?”

The stick has officially lodged itself in my ass.

I’m a little uncomfortable, for this is new territory to me, but I take a sip of coffee and continue with what I’m doing. I close all my internet browser tabs and decide it’s time to get to work. Well, first, another sip of coffee is in order. The field reporter announces that some people are in opposition of the aforementioned senator’s idea for change. I take another drink. The field reporter sets up a voiceover for the opposing viewpoint. I listen intently. I drink more coffee. “Wow, so these politicians don’t agree with one another?”

The stick is gently nestled, but not fully in my ass.

I get myself a refill of coffee. I stew over what these two senators are saying. “Who’s right? What’s my opinion on the matter?” I take another sip.

The stick has now slid further inward of my ass.

The field reporter suggests things in this pressing matter could unfortunately be drawn out over a long period of time given the conflicting viewpoints. “Well, that doesn’t seem good. If this matter is so urgent why can’t they come to a consensus?” I take a gulp of coffee in frustration.

I’m beginning to forget there’s a stick traveling up my ass, and rather embrace the feeling.

The senator proposing change again has a voiceover. Then, the field reporter throws it to the opposition for their voiceover. Things seem dicey. I finish the current cup of coffee and get yet another refill.

My ass is now one with the stick.

“Hmmm, the one senator’s point seems rather trite,” I think to myself and simultaneously realize I’ve never used the word trite before now. I drink more coffee. I can’t help but wonder, “Do people realize what’s going on in Washington? These changes could gravely effect the status quo.” Another gulp of coffee.

I’ve completely forgot there’s a stick in my ass, and instead am focused on the drone of NPR and downing more coffee. I’m no longer attempting to get any work done.

“I’m glad they’re reporting on this. More people need to know this stuff. I’m an intelligible guy. This is what you do when you want to be a well-informed adult. Drink coffee and listen to NPR. I went to a liberal arts school. I know what’s up. I might even scoff at people who go elsewhere for news, but not until later.” More coffee goes down my throat.

The stick doesn’t have much further to go.

The field reporter gives a summary of where things are headed and signs off. I’m appalled and begin forming opinions on the matter. Again, I take a drink of coffee. Now, the show anchor restates the field reporter’s name and what the story was about. I’m relaxed by their soothing vocal tone and lack of bombastic cues toward their unapologetic opinion that other news outlets offer. Their voice could put me to sleep, but I’m enthralled by the news and high on caffeine.

The stick has virtually reached its destination.

The anchor advises listeners to stay tuned for a classical music concerto. A preview of the overture plays as a dull murmur leading listeners into an underwriting spot (fancy advertising).

I take a final sip of coffee. “Hey, that sounds nice. I will stay tuned for that. I can appreciate classical music. Actually I think I could quite like it, given the chance.”

It’s official: I have a stick up my ass.