by Randy Reynolds
I came in early each day, usually around 2 a.m., to write and record I.B.’s bits in a wild voice with a Cajun accent. By showtime—6 a.m.—I’d have downed the first six of the ten cups of Community Coffee I would drink each morning.
I.B. talked about real things--expose's that I got from tipsters and whistle blowers from all walks of life and from every level of government in Rapides Parish. For reasons sometimes selfless, sometimes self-serving, my sources flooded me with tips, many of which—the ones I could verify--ended up on the air.
I spent almost all my waking hours for several years verifying-- making sure that every word out of I.B.’s mouth was true, hence the 10 cups of coffee per day and the nights of writing till midnight and going to work two hours later to record our expose’s and/or jokes.
I started each report with a helicopter sound-effect. Then came I.B.'s trademark yell, "Aaaaiiiyyyiiieee! " and we went into our schtick and exposed another boondoggle… 5 days per week, 51 weeks per year, (52 weeks one year when I refused to take a vacation and worked 364 days before taking off the last day of the year.)
The eye in the sky... Most mornings, in the late 1990's and early 2000's, lawyers and public officials gather around someone's car outside the Rapides and Avoyelles Parish, Louisiana, courthouses. With car doors open and radios blaring full blast, they listen to I.B. Flyin' on the Randy Reynolds Show. They'll be talking about it all day, a common greeting in the courthouse being, "Hey, did you hear what Ol' I.B. said about you this morning?"
http://reynoldswriter.blogspot.com/2008/03/eye-in-sky-ib-flyin.html
One cop taught me some moves...in case the mayor attacked me physically. The sheriff called me into his office and gave me a carry permit (and waived the fee) and sent me to an insurance agent who gave me a free liability policy that went with the permit. A store owner who was an ex-cop gave me a handgun to carry at all times. Cops met me at clandestine locations, in their homes, at lawyer's offices and at police stations to explain one injustice or another that I could use on the news or turn into a comedy bit. It was all pretty dramatic stuff, but funny, too. One cop--who had a lot of musical ability--recorded some songs about the mayor's misdeeds and I played them on the air to great acclaim (and ratings.) Some of the misdeeds of the mayor (and others) I turned into I.B. Flyin bits. Others I used on the news. Many qualified for use both ways because the news was so funny in Central Louisiana in those days that it was hard to tell the difference between news and comedy.
http://reynoldswriter.blogspot.com/2011/01/locked-and-loaded.html
Me and I.B Flyin and Mr. Winky and Plucker the Duck... It's week seven of the 13-week ratings period and my imaginary co-hosts and I are in rare form. My jokes are funny, my listeners are funny; even the wooden duck-call known to listeners as Plucker-the-Duck and the plastic squeak-toy I call Mr. Winky are in rare form today.
http://reynoldswriter.blogspot.com/2008/03/tallywhacker-bridge.html
A morning show like no other... behind the scenes.“You comin’, too, Randy? You a good man. You deserve to get out of this place… and so does I.B. and Plucker and Mr. Winky and Shirley Q. Liquor..”
In Boo’s condition, it would do no good to remind him that I.B., Plucker and Mr. Winky are all just different versions of me—figments of my imagination presented on my show as separate individuals—and that Shirley Q. Liquor is an Internet Comedian.
http://reynoldswriter.blogspot.com/2008/03/snakes-spaceships-and-naked-deejays.html
http://reynoldswriter.blogspot.com/2008/04/magic.html
Monroe... Movin' on up...
http://reynoldswriter.blogspot.com/2008/04/dream-charts.html
...........
