Rose's Cantina

Everyday, I drive Scott to work and this gives me the opportunity to listen to private radio. Don't get me wrong. I love the tunes. I'm happy to rock out to David Wilcox or the Boss. Sometimes I like to crack the window, open the roof and blast it out, just like the homies in the next car. Unfortunately, this is a rare occurence due to the very existence of some Ottawa morning teams. Over the course of the twenty minutes it takes me to drive Scott to the car dealership, I'm lucky to hear two great tunes. That's because all I hear are bad commercials in heavy rotation, long monologues, dick jokes or deejays riffing against one another, trying but not succeeding to be funny. Some of the on air talent is so young and inexperienced, they can't even answer their own trivia questions with a computer right in front of them. God, I miss Kevin Nelson. The man knew how to be a good deejay, when to play music and when to shut the hell up. I even miss...

Some people are meant to be comets in this life. They soar through life, burning brightly. Then suddenly, the bright light is extinguished. Just like that. Kevin Nelson was one of those comets. He died today at the age of 52. I wrote about Kevin a few months back when it was announced he would no longer be heard on the radio show that made him famous, the morning show on Majic 100 in Ottawa. He and longtime side kick, Bill Parker, were being replaced with little fanfare. There were no going away parties, no back-slapping farewells. Just radio silence. Like many people in Ottawa, I was mad. I felt Kevin had been mistreated. It turns out, according to those who knew and loved him, I had been misinformed. I received numerous messages on my blog about Kevin's bad behavior, how he had treated people horribly and turned his back on the people who loved him the most. Kevin had a problem with alcohol and it, coupled with a liver infection he caught on a Caribbean trip...