Mike North, I christen you "ICARUS."
At one point, Mike North, I, and presumably many others, found your story representative of a great success forged from humble beginnings.
Although your lack of intelligence often was revealed, you did talk sports with a passion.
However, my friend, you have strayed and have dared to approach the kingdom of intelligent talk radio. You left Dan Jiggets, your symbolic Daedelus, and foolishly soared with reckless abandon into the realms of politics, social issues, and entertainment. More significantly, you have endlessly regaled us with your paeans to the joys of alcoholism.
Alas, Anne Maxfield and Fred Huebner are but wings of wax, who have failed to support you in your ill fated quest. As your delusions of grandeur have increased, these pathetic waxen sycophants have melted into non existence. As shown by your piteous ratings, your plunge into the sea is imminent.
Your pathetic cries to your father, and the hopeless flapping of your wings, and gums, are futile and will not sustain you.
Return to your roots, dear Icarus, and once again become the humble boy with feet firmly planted on earth. Embrace Daedalus, or some other mortal, and allow them to engage you in intelligent and reasoned debate about our local teams.
The Gods are merciful, sweet Icarus: it is not too late.
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