The right really dominates radio, and it's amazing how much

Host: The radio station hummed like a sleeping animal — low static, faint feedback, the buzz of tired fluorescent lights. Through the glass window of the control room, red ON AIR letters glowed like a warning. The night shift had begun: empty hallways, a pot of burnt coffee, and the distant hum of signals stretching across the country like invisible veins of opinion.

Jack sat before the microphone, his grey eyes fixed on the clock above the console. Jeeny leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her dark hair catching faint glimmers from the equipment lights. Outside, thunder growled — a storm preparing to speak louder than both of them.

Jeeny: “Roger Ebert once said, ‘The right really dominates radio, and it's amazing how much energy the right spends telling us that the press is slanted to the left when it really isn't. They want to shut other people up. They really don't understand the First Amendment.’”

Host: Jack adjusted the volume knob — the faint hiss of silence filled the room. His voice, low and rough, carried the weight of weary realism.
Jack: “Ebert was brave to say that out loud. Especially back when it wasn’t popular to criticize the loudest voices in the room.”

Jeeny: “And it’s still not. The same echo chamber, just with better microphones.”

Jack: “Yeah. The irony is, the people screaming the loudest about being silenced are the ones talking without interruption.”

Jeeny: “That’s the paradox of power — it mistakes volume for persecution.”

Host: A flash of lightning cut through the glass, briefly reflecting Jack’s face — sharp lines softened by fatigue. The radio’s muted hum became almost hypnotic, the heartbeat of modern propaganda still alive even at midnight.

Jack: “You ever notice how outrage has become entertainment? It’s not about ideas anymore — it’s about who can shout the loudest. Ebert saw that coming. He knew the airwaves weren’t just filled with voices — they were filled with fear.”

Jeeny: “Fear sells better than truth. Outrage pays better than objectivity.”

Jack: “And empathy doesn’t trend.”

Jeeny: “It never did.”

Host: Jeeny stepped closer to the console, eyes following the flickering meters that measured silence like heartbeat lines. Her voice lowered, calm but electric.
Jeeny: “Ebert wasn’t just talking about politics — he was talking about corruption of discourse. About how the First Amendment wasn’t meant to protect comfort, but conflict. Ideas arguing with ideas, not mobs drowning each other out.”

Jack: “Except now, we’ve traded conversation for confirmation. Everyone’s broadcasting — no one’s listening.”

Jeeny: “Because listening means risking change.”

Jack: “And change is terrifying to those who think freedom means dominance.”

Host: Outside, rain began to hammer the windows, as though the storm itself wanted a turn at the mic. The room filled with its rhythm — a percussion of unrest.

Jeeny: “You know, when Ebert said that, it wasn’t just about talk radio — it was about control. He saw how easily people confuse freedom of speech with freedom from criticism.”

Jack: “Yeah. They want the right to talk, not the courage to be questioned.”

Jeeny: “That’s not freedom — that’s dictatorship in dialogue.”

Host: Jack leaned closer to the mic, flicking the switch on. The red light glowed brighter. His voice came through, deep and deliberate, cutting through the static.

Jack: “You’re listening to Late Frequency Radio — where we still believe freedom means everyone gets to speak, not just the ones with sponsors.”

Jeeny smirked, mouthing silently, nice line.

He switched the mic back off.
Jack: “You think anyone out there’s still listening?”

Jeeny: “Maybe one person. Maybe that’s enough.”

Jack: “You sound like Ebert now.”

Jeeny: “He believed conversation could still save us — that if people kept talking, they’d remember how to think.”

Jack: “And instead, we learned how to yell.”

Jeeny: “But yelling isn’t the problem. It’s why we’re yelling. When the right dominates radio, and the left dominates fear, the truth gets trapped in feedback.”

Jack: “So who’s the villain?”

Jeeny: “Silence.”

Host: The word hung in the air like smoke. Jack looked at her, realizing she wasn’t talking about censorship — she was talking about fatigue. The kind that kills curiosity.

Jack: “You really think there’s still power in the printed word? The spoken word?”

Jeeny: “Of course. That’s what Ebert was saying. The fact that people still try to censor, discredit, or dominate means they still fear words. That fear proves they still work.”

Jack: “Then maybe we’re the last romantics left — believing that reason can still compete with rage.”

Jeeny: “No. Not the last. Just the tired ones who haven’t given up yet.”

Host: The rain softened outside, replaced by the distant crackle of thunder retreating toward the horizon. Inside, the radio console glowed faintly — a small ship sailing through static seas.

Jeeny: “You know what’s amazing, Jack? That people like Ebert — critics — had the courage to critique not just movies, but the world’s moral soundtrack. He wasn’t talking about entertainment; he was talking about ethics.”

Jack: “Yeah. He knew media isn’t a mirror — it’s a megaphone. And whoever holds it decides what echoes.”

Jeeny: “And right now, that megaphone’s too heavy for reason to lift.”

Jack: “Then we lighten it. Word by word.”

Host: Jeeny smiled softly — the kind of smile that carries exhaustion and faith in equal measure.

Jeeny: “You know what I love most about the First Amendment? It doesn’t promise comfort. It promises chaos — but the kind of chaos that builds democracy instead of burning it.”

Jack: “And the irony is, those who scream about losing their freedom are the first to deny it to others.”

Jeeny: “Because they don’t want freedom — they want dominance dressed as liberty.”

Jack: “And yet, the airwaves are still full. The microphones are still on. The ink’s still wet.”

Jeeny: “Which means the conversation isn’t over.”

Host: The clock struck midnight. The hum of the radio deepened — the storm had moved on, leaving the air heavy and clear. Jack looked out the window, watching the faint neon reflection of the “ON AIR” sign ripple in a puddle outside.

Jack: “You think Ebert would still be hopeful today?”

Jeeny: “He was a critic, Jack. Critics are the most hopeful people in the world — because they believe things can still get better.”

Jack: “And if they can’t?”

Jeeny: “Then we talk louder. We write better. We fight smarter.”

Host: Jack smiled — the first real one of the night — and flicked the mic back on. The red light burned steady.

Jack: “Alright. Let’s make Ebert proud. Tonight’s topic: truth — and the dangerous beauty of saying it out loud.”

Jeeny: “You think anyone’s still awake?”

Jack: “The right people always are.”

Host: The soundboard came alive, the airwaves carrying their voices out into the dark — through static, across rooftops, into cars, bedrooms, kitchens. Somewhere, someone paused mid-scroll to listen.

And in that quiet rebellion — in that fragile, flickering transmission — the First Amendment lived again.

Because as Roger Ebert had understood, free speech wasn’t about volume; it was about courage. And even in a world addicted to noise, courage still sounds amazing when you turn the dial just right.