Does Marge listen to A Prairie Home Companion?
— Topher McCulloch (@tophrrrr) September 2, 2016
(an homage to https://t.co/aiYmiHi5vw in fifteen tweets)
— Topher McCulloch (@tophrrrr) February 6, 2017
What is Marge’s favorite public radio program? Is it Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me? This American Life? Car Talk?
— Topher McCulloch (@tophrrrr) February 6, 2017
To what does Marge listen over coffee on cold days? Whose jokes make Marge laugh? Which host does Marge know, truly and well?
— Topher McCulloch (@tophrrrr) February 6, 2017
Which program tells Marge in three acts to leave the brute, knowing she won’t? “And of course, each week we bring you a story.”
— Topher McCulloch (@tophrrrr) February 6, 2017
Who, on a morning walk, listening to narrative storytelling makes Marge think? Surely not Terry, or Jad and Robert.
— Topher McCulloch (@tophrrrr) February 6, 2017
Did Marge mourn for Tom Magliozzi? Late nights, driving to Shelbyville, staring at her steering wheel, haunted by who was Click or Clack.
— Topher McCulloch (@tophrrrr) February 6, 2017
Does she see in Car Talk a cautionary tale? Too fondly-remembered, semi-synonymous Click & Clack — could this fate too befall Prairie Home?
— Topher McCulloch (@tophrrrr) February 6, 2017
Perhaps when both were still on air, Garrison grabbed Marge’s attention in a ditty for Bebop-a-Rebop Rhubarb pie and held tight.
— Topher McCulloch (@tophrrrr) February 6, 2017
What prompted this sudden connection, this sudden expression of— what was it, hunger?
— Topher McCulloch (@tophrrrr) February 6, 2017
She didn’t listen often — a casual listener, sure, but had she ever even pledged to NPR, let alone MPR?
— Topher McCulloch (@tophrrrr) February 6, 2017
And yet here she was, listening intently, quietly, secretly, while her children shrieked and her husband pounded Duff.
— Topher McCulloch (@tophrrrr) February 6, 2017
One night, when Marge couldn’t sleep, she decided to download old episodes on iTunes to listen to Keillor’s down-comforter voice.
— Topher McCulloch (@tophrrrr) February 6, 2017
Marge downloaded into the night, her headphones flecks of white in a mound of blue hair, and for once she felt not so alone.
— Topher McCulloch (@tophrrrr) February 6, 2017
Marge felt the cool breeze of Lake Wobgeon on her face. Outside the window she heard Garrison, quiet as a mouse, his converse wet with dew.
— Topher McCulloch (@tophrrrr) February 6, 2017
Marge looked to him— “Guy Noir?” and Garrison shook his head.
— Topher McCulloch (@tophrrrr) February 6, 2017
And Garrison whispered this: “When this tweetstorm is over, you will have nothing that you want.” pic.twitter.com/9CRQTv4src
— Topher McCulloch (@tophrrrr) February 6, 2017
With all apologies to the original, much better twitter poem.
https://twitter.com/RaphaelBW/status/752661152174182400
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