The Last Gasps of Howard Stern?

If the self-proclaimed King of All Media were to retire, his departure would as quiet and unpublicized of a disappearance from the airwaves as any minor commercial voice-over drone: a human voice grown so familiar suddenly replaced by a human voice of another, as someone new enters the Theater of the Mind. Howard Stern's counting the days left before the termination of his five-year deal at Sirius, and the show has become increasingly nervous entertainment. If Howard were to be planning his descent into production, ending his routine morning drive-time ritual and, essentially, his career, life on the Stern show would look much as it has, and does.

Howard got wistful months ago, inciting a conversation between Fred ("King of Mars") Norris and "Vegetating" newswoman Robin Quivers, as to who really had an outstanding beef with the show's longtime writer, Jackie (The Joke Man) Martling. After Jackie left over a contract dispute, his seat in the studio would come to be filled-- for a time-- by troubled standup Artie Lange. While Artie's problem was heroin, and his formal and informal rehab will likely prohibit any future appearances on this incarnation of the Howard Stern Show, Jackie'd jump at the chance to appear, even for a day. A few months back-- perhaps seeking to give cred to what were his finest hours in radio-- Howard began to shift toward the sentimental, resulting in his deep voice trembling ever-so-slightly, as it has in decades previous over divorces and national tragedy, over the long-awaited in-studio interview with the elderly creator of a female masturbation machine. Still, Howard attends therapy, at last count, four times each week: his drive to provide for his audience helps him maintain his high standard. In the mind of Howard Stern, success is only available to those who fully commit to a task; thus, the show has been ending consistently at 11:00AM, meandering through Robin's news with a humorous and false sense of hurry.

Howard's neurosis may mean he's never going to "retire," only to repackage and market his vast catalog: clips of his famed Channel 9 shows are wildly funny, and not only for their low-production-value, campy, bad-hair qualities. More easily than may first appear, Howard Stern may further descend into weird post-celebrity mental illnesses-- like Brando or Orson Welles-- if his laurels and previous accolades are what he chooses to rest upon. For now, he still has the chance: it's likely none of us will know the fate of his contract until, perhaps on some January morning, the channels on my Sirius reorganize themselves and his persistent presence will be gone.