On a late humid Tuesday night in May, something unusual happened. I came across a Podcast; still running with the keys in the ignition. As a Podcast operator myself, I looked around for the host, but he was nowhere to be found. I knew where I was… and I knew where I was going, so I was pretty sure I knew what needed to be done. After getting my bearings, I wandered around the Podcast and sure enough, the plates said, “GSBFUNK1.” At that moment, I realized that this was no ordinary Podcast, this was the Geek Soul Brother Podcast. A great sense of awe swept over me. This Podcast was vintage, yet modern. Sleek yet classy. I hesitated for a minute. Dare I touch this Righteous Ride? Do I venture to step into this Cosmic Cruiser? HOW COULD I NOT?!?!?
Stepping in to this Soulful Shuttle, I settled into the permanent buttock contours in the cracked leather seats. The interior smelled like a cocktail of frankincense incense, afro sheen, and Brother Bru Bru’s African Hot Sauce (look it up, if you don’t know).
The center floor console was full of 8-track tapes… EWF, Kool & The Gang, Etta James, David Hasselhoff’s Greatest Hits, The Isley Brothers, Howlin Wolf, The Dramatics, etc. It was a musical time machine. I picked up Lakeside so I could cruise on a Fantastic Voyage, but there was this dusty gray tape stuck in the radio. I flipped on the radio and was blasted by Chuck Brown talkin’ ‘bout “Bustin’ Loose”…
“…gimme the bridge ya’ll… gimme the bridge now…”
I knew, at that moment, I was welcome in this Afrocentric Automobile.
After doing donuts in the parking lot, I headed up town. Only two of the four windows worked all the way, but that was enough to let some of the humidity out. At a stoplight, the dude next to me asked where I got my chrome curb feelers. I told him… “This isn’t mine. This Sweet Stallion belongs to THE Geek Soul Brother.” To which he replied… “I can dig it!”
A few miles down the road, with Chuck now breaking into, “If it Ain’t Funky;” I take note of some of the other elements of this Vibrant Vehicle. First of all, I have no idea how The Private fits into that booster seat, but I can understand the need for the extra restraints. It’s very clear that the 5 Nerdy Venoms are typically tucked tightly into the back seat, from the handfuls of cheerios to the half eaten novels on the bench. From the 1st Generation Game Boy to the X-Factor #52 in the back seat pockets. It’s clear that they are more than along for the ride; they’re at home.
As Chuck plucks away at the last track on the tape, I know my time is getting short. This is not my Podcast. It was only a matter of time before I would need to return this Tempestuous Transport. Drawn by the pungent mixture of burning rubber, decaying leather, and honey nut cheerios, MDawg was able to track me down. Geek Soul Brother sends word that he knows that I have his Pimped-out Podcast and he wants it back.
As I wind down the highway of the Intergalactic Interweb, I realize what an honor it is to sit in the seat of this Prolithic Patriarch Podcaster. I filled up the tank with the words that I thought he would have wanted me to say. Thanking all those who make the time to show up and push start this puppy twice a week. I reminded all those who allow these righteous rhythms to past through their ear holes; that in order to get their fill of fun and frivolity, they only need to come back to this place, at this time, next week. Out of nowhere, Renaegade rides by on her two-tone trike and drops the website information like a bundle of newspapers on Sunday morning. “THUD”. In a cloud of smoke and exhaust… she’s gone just as quick as she appeared.
Geek Soul Brother met me in the spot where he had been so unceremoniously removed from his comfy cushion. It was my first time meeting this legend of internet radio. Geek Soul Brother has the poise of Sidney Poitier, the glare of Colin Powell, and the scent of hot buttered popcorn and a hint of red gummi bears. Dressed like an Afro Jean Luc Pichard on his family farm, his cream linen button down two piece was spotless. The letters, “GSB” suspended from a gold rope chain firmly set between his honey graham cracker man mammaries, let me know that I had the right person. His walk was more like a jazzy stroll as if he was a trombone player from Duke Ellington’s big band. Smooth and off balance, but confident. His high shine brown gator Bally’s came to a stop on the hot asphalt parking lot.
He was appreciative that I took care of the Podcast in his absence. He rested his hand on my shoulder and in his soul-filled way, said to me, “Good Job.” Motioning to the Venoms to pack up the spoilers and get in. He slid down his beaded backrest, closed the door, adjusted the Private’s booster straps, and put the Podcast in drive.
I asked him… “So, Geek Soul Brother? Where are you headed this time of night.”
Peering out the windshield for a moment, he cracked a semi-smile out the corner of the mouth. He looked over his shoulder at his hyperactive crew, and then back over the faux fur covered steering wheel for a moment. He then looked back at me with a sly eye and devilish grin and said,
“It’s AFTER DARK! We’ll just have to see how far we can go.”
And with a tip of his mesh Kangol brim, he was off into the darkness. He’ll be back. 10 PM on Tuesdays and Thursdays on Talk Shoe. Until then, we know he’s taking Funk to the Final Frontier.