Dear Top 40 Radio Stations

I am not a conservative person.

I’ve got tattoos.

I’ve been pierced in more places than just my ears.

I’m not easily offended.

And I like to say fuck.

A lot.

But when it comes to my kids, that’s a whole different story.

We’ve got seven kids.

Yeah. Seven.

The youngest five are all under ten years old.

And when it comes to them, I’m pretty old fashioned.

I’m big on manners.

On being respectful of adults.

I’m conservative with respect to what they can watch on tv.

I’m not sure if you know, but the shows for kids on tv these days suck.

They are largely inappropriate and use language I don’t want my kids to hear until they are old enough to comprehend when its use is appropriate and when it’s not.

Our financial situation forced us to cancel our cable subscription.

That turned out to be a good thing, because now I don’t have to worry about the shitty programs my kids are finding on tv.

At least we still had satellite radio.

Well we did. Until we couldn’t afford that and had to cancel it.

So now we listen to “terrestrial” radio.

My kids, as most of them do, prefer you pop radio stations.

And you know what?

YOU TOTALLY SUCK, TOO.

And not because you play Justin Bieber and One Direction and a whole bunch of other “artists” that would cause my younger, 22-year-old self to throw up in her mouth a little bit.

I’ve officially passed that point where I would rather be caught dead than caught listening to anything labeled Top 40.

I don’t even care about that anymore.

No. You suck for two totally different reasons.

First, you fail to censor songs on your station that younger ears have no place hearing.

It’s bad enough that bitch isn’t bleeped out of All About That Bass, and that I have to listen to Ed Sheeran complain about his stupid ex girlfriend who disappeared with him to have sex of course.

But this fucking song, Stay High,

this uplifting and inspirational song for young girls by Tove Lo?

I eat my dinner in my bathtub, then I go to sex clubs

Watchin’ freaky people gettin’ it on

It doesn’t make me nervous, if anything, I’m restless

Yeah I’ve been around and I’ve seen it all

I get home, I got the munchies, binge on all my Twinkies

Throw up in the tub and I go to sleep

And I drank up all my money, tastin’ kind of lonely…

Well, that one is too much.

I just don’t have the energy to explain to my 5 kids who are under the age of ten what sex is and what bitch means and why some depressed chick is puking in her goddamned bathtub.

So there’s that.

And then there is the bullshit that the djs discuss.

Yesterday on my way to preschool, do you know what your stupid morning radio hosts taught my kids?

Your djs introduced my children to the term, man boobs.

Do you know how many times a 4-year-old will ask you what man boobs are?

No?

Me neither. Because my four-year-old is still asking.

I think we are up to about 4, 872 times. And counting.

And so, 98Q, I am dumping you.

And when my preschooler teaches his whole class his new vocabulary word, I’m going to direct his teacher to you.

 

Thank you for making me Number 1!

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