Deanna King of 95.1: The Triunph of Mediocrity!

Deanna King, The Luckiest Woman in Rochester Media History

Hey, I think we all wish we could be Deanna King. 

 

Deanna King certainly is very successful in the world of the small and insignificant Rochester, New York, media. Especially since her broadcasting talent is shockingly inconsequential and her forced, uncomfortable on-air radio rapport is eerily similar to Forrest Gump debating quantum physics with Carl Sagan.

Deanna King is over 40 (something she does not like to admit, but the eye lines and hair dye don't lie) product of a Batavia, New York, upbringing one of the most trashy zip codes outside of the 315 area (I was shocked when I discovered she was from Batavia and married a white guy), but it does not stop her from indulging in Millennial diversions, such as taking selfies with the biggest bimbo broadcaster in Rochester, Nikki Rudd...how cute! I know she wants to turn that clock back and regain her elastic skin and tight vagina, but if she did that, she would not have been crowned the Queen of Rochester broadcastingby iHeart Media.

It certainly helps that she believes she is talented, since the overall output does not match her considerable ambition. 

Hey, lack of talent but ambition to spare has fueled the entertainment careers of execrable entertainers like Carrot Top, Keanu Reeves, Fred Durst of Limp Bizkit, Kanye West, Arianna Grande and Sandra Fluke, and extended their fame way beyond their "sell by" date, so why NOT give it a spin? In a stunning development a few months ago, after years of domancy after being quietly expelled from the Rochester news world, iHeart Media signs Deanna King to a fat contract where she saunters into radio station 92.5 FM's THE BREW studio and hovers in and out of the Brother Wease Show, the country station on 92.5, Bob Lonsberry's (aka Ned Flanders') bullshit show on 1180 Am, and subs whenever Kimberly or Beck takes a vacation (or one is suspended for one reason or another). Her presence can be accurately described to that of a horsefly buzzing around a small reading room in a Victorian home, awaiting a rolled newspaper to flatten the interloping annoyance silence the annoying buzzing and noise.

The thing that disturbs me is that she is not exactly a known presence in the local media and had an almost invisible presence on television even when she was a "regular" in the local news:

Deanna King worked for a decade in the TV news industry as a producer and reporter.    She dabbles in radio when someone is brave enough to let her co-host.

• Name one thing she has "produced" (beside a C-section scar). I  doubt Steven Spielberg is calling her on speed dial to "produce" Armistead II.
• I have not seen her do a report on television since Justin Beiber popped a pubic hair.

Which begs the rhetorical question, how in fuck's sake did she discover the MacBook screenshot of the iHeart's CEO shoving a semi-melted Mars Bar into his secretary's sweet honeypot???

 

Hold your hats, folks! If gracing Rochester Radio with compelling stories of driving her kids soccer games is not headline grabbing enough, she has decided to take up the mantel previously abandoned by T.S. Elliott and Kahlil Gabran and has gone literary. One of her new ventures is literary. I know. Hold your sides. John Grisham and JK Rowlng had better take out insurance. Check it out: her masterwork of wordsmithing, "Observations of a Cynical Mom" is out so there so that the terrestrial world can be entrusted with her innermost thoughts about motherhood, being on the radio, motherhood, the fact her husband won't pick up his socks, and, oh, it almost escaped me...motherhood (if you haven't guessed within 3 seconds of her blathering on her wordpress meanderings, she is a MOM, which possibly means she has children). It is all analytical deductions that made me conclude that. 

She said she always wanted to be a broadcaster. In her new kiss-ass blog, "Brother Wease" found here: http://cynicalmother.com/?p=7015

I knew I wanted to work in broadcasting from the moment I got my first tape recorder.  I wanted to grow up and make as little money as possible.    If you are under 20-years-old you may not know that a tape recorder was a machine used to play cassettes.  It could also record music or audio.  We would put a cassette player next to another cassette player, hit the ‘play button’ and illegally dub music for our friends.  It took patience.  Without fail, someone would walk in the room, speak and interrupt the recording. Then, you would have to start over.  Meanwhile, my children complain when it takes longer than 30 seconds to download a song from iTunes. 

I must say, if I was a 20-something Millenial wanting to know the history of audio recording medium, I would implore them to not waste your valuable selfie time and don't read a book on David Sarnoff or Gugliemo Marconi, gentle readers, I would point to the bon mots of one of Deanna's informative Cynical Mother blogs. In "Brother Wease," She almost did not mention her kids for almost 1/3 of the aforementioned blog until she slipped up and succumbed to her maternal mediocrity. Good attempt, though, sugar. Maybe next time.

She further states in her incredibly glib way, 

His name was Brother Wease.   He was a radio pioneer paving the way for other so-called “shock jocks.”  Brother Wease was risqué.  He talked about topics that made some blush, but he was funny.  His interview skills were like no other.  His questions were sometimes wacky, but it was always an interesting conversation.

Maybe being in a one horse town (technically a city, which incidentally rhymes with shitty) has made her mentally oblivious to the history of radio personalities dating back to Bob Grant, Don Imus and Howard Stern, who, incidentally Ms. Bellavia, were doing what Wease was doing before Mr. and Mrs. King created a baby batter sculpture named Deanna King.

It makes me wonder, Deanna, that you are sucking up in such a disturbingly blatant fashion, go all the way, put on your fishnets and high heel boots and a vinyl miniskirt, and loiter around Lyell Avenue with a big "Will blow you and jiggle your testicle for a radio job" sign attached to your back. You may not be a political wife, despite your best ambitions, so it is best to do what you do best in order to get those radio jobs better talents have not been awarded.

So, Rochester media "backroom" movers and shakers, this is what you have created. 

The elevation and promotion of an undistinguished, vanilla, safe, run of the mill, boring, former news second-biller to a prominent radio station presence because somehow, somewhere, she is "owed" for some unknown and (apparently, kept secret) reason. Because the elevation of Deanna King from her once deserved oblivion is the archetype of the Peter Principle in the work world. The worst you do in your chosen profession, the further you are pushed up the ladder, moving up quickly your head spins, so you cannot fuck up the jobs you were previously entrusted.

Thanks iHeart Media. 
Pimpin' Aint Easy