All posts reflect my own stories and opinions and are not endorsed by WORT or its Board of Directors.
Signal Drift: Chapter 21
“We were wrong about the EMP, Cronauer. It wasn’t just a stray burst.” Through a crackling Yaesu handheld, Dave reveals the architect behind the “Dark Sky” burst—and why the Driftless valleys were left intact to serve a new, predatory kingdom.
Signal Drift: Chapter 20
The “grandpa” mask was on, the honey was a bribe, and the WORT master crystal was tucked over his heart. Norm Stockwell didn’t look like a revolutionary, but as the heavy steel of the Checker Marathon hit Highway 14, the signal proved otherwise.
The Trillion-Dollar Soundstage
We left a pickup truck and a flag on the moon, and we still have people convinced it was shot in a basement. It’s time to stop the “space shit” talk and look at the telemetry.
Signal Drift: Chapter 19
At 23:30, the lot at Station Zero was heavy with Driftless mist. Cronauer pulled on the Biltwell helmet, feeling the hardwired leads click into place. He lowered the PVS-14s over his eye. The world turned a grainy, glowing green. He hit the ignition. The boxer twin hummed low. He scrolled the iPod wheel to Queensrÿche’s Empire. As the opening bass line of ‘Best I Can’ slammed into his ears, he clicked the visor shut and kicked the GS into gear. He didn’t turn on the lights. He just leaned into the darkness and vanished into the treeline.
The Pasta-to-Logic Pivot
When you hit a brick wall for three days and then accidentally overwrite your buddy’s entire project, you pivot. Toss in two beers on an empty stomach, a Prince deep dive, and a plate of pasta to save your soul.
Denim Détente: The 20-Year Truce
How I learned to stop worrying and love the elastic waistband. For a wheelchair user, blue jeans aren’t just fashion—they’re a 15-minute NASA-level logistical exercise. After twenty years of cargo-pant safety, the denim has returned.
Signal Drift: chapter 18
“Clinic update for March 11th,” the voice said. It was thin, frayed at the edges, but the cadence was unmistakable. “Audrey to… anyone. Cronauer, you out there? The signal is fading. God, I hope you’re listening.” The static rushed back in like a flood. Cronauer didn’t move. He just watched the needle settle back to zero. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “She’s alive.”
The 12-String Entry Tax
I love the 1970s, but my smart speaker thinks the entire decade is just one long, endless stay at a specific hotel in California.
The Banana-Pants Defect
The Prince of Darkness meets Harry Styles. Between the Timberlake funk and the Bublé charm, the music is surprisingly solid—but the banana-yellow pants and gym sweatshirt combo is a total systems failure.
Signal Drift: Chapter 17
They want the radios, and they want the food,” Dave said quietly. “They want us hungry and quiet.” Cronauer reached for the gain knob, his eyes fixed on the orange truck parked outside. “Then I guess we better start building that tower on the ridge. If they’re going to come for the signal, let’s make sure they have to climb for it