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Roswells By James from Arizona

There once was a show host named Bell
Who's paranormal talk show he did sell.
They put on a boob
The genre was screwed
Till Art came back out of his shell.

With gusto he came,
But XM was lame,
Boned by non compete agreements again,
He sat it all out,
He brought back about
Talk radio that would change the game!

So Midnight was born,
A show that was sworn
To captivate the listener's minds
He sat a the chair,
Till threats came to bare,
With horrific, and dangerous crimes.

Art puts his family first,
So he was coerced
To give up his passionate dream.
A nerve it did strike,
With anger alike,
So Heather stepped up to the mic

In time she got skilled at her craft
And won all the best guests on back
With Abba and Gayle
Those bumpers did hail
Midnight In the Desert will live on!

I give Heather props for her chops
Against all odds she did balk
She conquered her fear
Climbed right in that chair
And mastered the Art of the Talk.

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