Stop Michael Berry

By P.J. Jackson  Michael Berry, I don’t know where to start. You have been a very bad boy, running out of advertisers and talking about those damn gun shops. You try to play yourself off like some Texas hillbilly, but we know better; don’t we Mike. Do you think your diehard listeners know you went to the University of Nottingham in England? I am willing to bet that 90 percent don’t, nor do they even have a clue where Nottingham is; most probably think it was some attraction at the renaissance festival. You have your listeners snowed, all that country music you play and pretend to love; what a joke. You’re about as country as Woody Allen, and not nearly as smart. I hope you have a plan B; you’re going to need it. This radio gig ain't lasting much longer, all these sponsors are running for cover. You can thank your buddy Limbaugh for that, maybe you can strike a deal with Sirius radio; that’s where Rush is headed. I came across these smart ass rules for life, and I thought of you Mike. I can hear the hate in your voice every day, and it makes me sick. So I would guess these are the rules you probably live by.