This is a compost pile of radio refuse that has filled the landfill landscape of my trek across the continent of radio from California to Maine and every FM bordello in between. In no particular order this is more of a shotgun approach than that of a marksman.
General Managers of radio stations are fun to fuck with because, number one, they’re easy targets and you come out unscathed if you have the ratings. They know better than to bite the hand that feeds them… revenue.
I discovered a long time ago they are called “General” Managers because they lack “specific” knowledge of what radio is…a few exceptions to the rule of course.