No Corner to Hide (The Max Masterson Series Book 2) by Mark E Becker
Authors: Mark E Becker
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not be flailed by call-ins who I can’t control. I don’t work like Somovich, and if his viewers start in on me, I’m going to have a bad day. I don’t like bad days,” he explained.
The next day, the show would start the same. Nothing changed, and Glen had another segment that essentially presented the same material with different players, all bent on changing the world with peace, love, and getting along. The fallacy of his argument, that lasting change must address the core of the problems, was never mentioned. Glen Aspect’s view of life was simple: As long as the world continued on the same path toward perceived annihilation, his talk show would never be cancelled, and his personal prosperity was guaranteed.
“The ultimate obscenity is nuclear energy. It doesn’t choose its victims. Everyone becomes its victim,” he started in his daily editorial. The opening statement had to be what he called a “headline grabber,” and each one was carefully crafted for maximum controversy by his staff of seven writers.
The mornings were devoted to his show so that he could book the afternoons for guest appearances on other talk shows to discuss his views. The irony of the situation was that Glen didn’t have many views of his own, and his appearances were written and rehearsed for maximum play on all of the major networks. He was a regular contributor by virtue of his ability to talk in the time allocated for his segment, and his staff wrote the questions for the interviews. All the networks had to do was park Aspect in a chair and let him read from the script.
“Remember Three Mile Island? Chernobyl? How about Fukushima? Hiroshima? Nagasaki? Well, I’m here to tell you that we have our own nuclear disaster waiting to happen again right here in the good ol’ United States, and all it will take is one big earthquake in California. That’s right, folks. The Diablo Canyon nuclear plant is built on one of the biggest earthquake faults in the U.S., and it’s a disaster waiting to happen. And mark my words, it will happen.”
Aspect didn’t waste any time seeking comment. He was the Chicken Little of the talk show world, and people loved it. There was no need to explain his views. His genre was sensational fright inducement, and he knew it. Glen Aspect was a real-life horror ghoul dressed in an immaculate pin-stripe suit.
u
CHAPTER 27
B
ob, Phil, and Jerry sat in their usual Thursday night “meeting.” At least that’s what they called it, but it was more of a structured excuse to get away from the wife and kids for awhile, drink beer, and eat chicken wings. They had been doing
the same thing for so long that it had become a habit. Jerry never let a Thursday pass without reminding his fellow members that he held the record for consecutive meetings, which made Bob and Phil eternally regret that they chose the birth of their children over the meeting. Most of all, they regretted that Jerry would do anything to maintain his string of attendance, and they would never be able to steal that badge of pride, no matter what. Jerry could be on life support, and he would still find a way to be there.
Jerry took the opportunity to start the meeting by waving a drumstick covered with Blazing Volcano sauce so hot that it had been rumored to eat the flesh off of unsuspecting hot sauce rookies. He announced, “Let the meeting begin!” and they turned toward the big screen situated at the end of the bar. Their focus was the political news of the day, and they had long since programmed themselves to filter out the information they deemed not worthy of discussion. This Thursday, they chose to focus on reports of the new president, Max Masterson, and his vice-president, Scarlett, who they had privately confessed to each other that they would screw in a heartbeat if their wives wouldn’t find out. They then took a male oath of secrecy by saying in unison, “If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll personally kick your ass.”
The next day, the show would start the same. Nothing changed, and Glen had another segment that essentially presented the same material with different players, all bent on changing the world with peace, love, and getting along. The fallacy of his argument, that lasting change must address the core of the problems, was never mentioned. Glen Aspect’s view of life was simple: As long as the world continued on the same path toward perceived annihilation, his talk show would never be cancelled, and his personal prosperity was guaranteed.
“The ultimate obscenity is nuclear energy. It doesn’t choose its victims. Everyone becomes its victim,” he started in his daily editorial. The opening statement had to be what he called a “headline grabber,” and each one was carefully crafted for maximum controversy by his staff of seven writers.
The mornings were devoted to his show so that he could book the afternoons for guest appearances on other talk shows to discuss his views. The irony of the situation was that Glen didn’t have many views of his own, and his appearances were written and rehearsed for maximum play on all of the major networks. He was a regular contributor by virtue of his ability to talk in the time allocated for his segment, and his staff wrote the questions for the interviews. All the networks had to do was park Aspect in a chair and let him read from the script.
“Remember Three Mile Island? Chernobyl? How about Fukushima? Hiroshima? Nagasaki? Well, I’m here to tell you that we have our own nuclear disaster waiting to happen again right here in the good ol’ United States, and all it will take is one big earthquake in California. That’s right, folks. The Diablo Canyon nuclear plant is built on one of the biggest earthquake faults in the U.S., and it’s a disaster waiting to happen. And mark my words, it will happen.”
Aspect didn’t waste any time seeking comment. He was the Chicken Little of the talk show world, and people loved it. There was no need to explain his views. His genre was sensational fright inducement, and he knew it. Glen Aspect was a real-life horror ghoul dressed in an immaculate pin-stripe suit.
u
CHAPTER 27
B
ob, Phil, and Jerry sat in their usual Thursday night “meeting.” At least that’s what they called it, but it was more of a structured excuse to get away from the wife and kids for awhile, drink beer, and eat chicken wings. They had been doing
the same thing for so long that it had become a habit. Jerry never let a Thursday pass without reminding his fellow members that he held the record for consecutive meetings, which made Bob and Phil eternally regret that they chose the birth of their children over the meeting. Most of all, they regretted that Jerry would do anything to maintain his string of attendance, and they would never be able to steal that badge of pride, no matter what. Jerry could be on life support, and he would still find a way to be there.
Jerry took the opportunity to start the meeting by waving a drumstick covered with Blazing Volcano sauce so hot that it had been rumored to eat the flesh off of unsuspecting hot sauce rookies. He announced, “Let the meeting begin!” and they turned toward the big screen situated at the end of the bar. Their focus was the political news of the day, and they had long since programmed themselves to filter out the information they deemed not worthy of discussion. This Thursday, they chose to focus on reports of the new president, Max Masterson, and his vice-president, Scarlett, who they had privately confessed to each other that they would screw in a heartbeat if their wives wouldn’t find out. They then took a male oath of secrecy by saying in unison, “If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll personally kick your ass.”
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