Time Out Chicago looks at Red Bar Radio

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: Time Out Chicago / Issue 196 : Nov 27–Dec 3, 2008 : Hot-air personality : Mike David thinks he knows what ails Chicago talk radio. But is his Internet program the antidote or just bad medicine? : By Steve Heisler : Mike David, the 25-year-old host of the weekly Internet comedy talk program Red Bar Radio, has a knack for getting under people's skin. For instance, he sent me an e-mail containing the demand, "I want an article. Seriously." Even less charming: That directive was preceded by condescending comments about articles I've run in TOC's Comedy section. : Before the e-mail, my experience with David and RBR was secondhand - hearing about broadcasts from others and occasionally catching parts of shows. The two-hour affairs - streaming Wednesdays at 7pm on redbarradio.com, later available as podcast downloads - feature local stand-up comedians joining David in the studio to skewer pop culture and the local comedy scene with no language or content filters. Two years ago, they ridiculed stand-up Trenton Willey's physical appearance and "gay voice," then conned him into doing a prank interview that ended with the hosts telling Willey he's a terrible comedian. Last July, David and friends mocked a local comic for participating in a story about jokes that offend women and zinged: "I heard she's bisexual because no guy would f#ck her," then launched into a discussion about how it's stupid to be offended by the word c#nt. This riled people - one comic called the show an "echo chamber of misogyny." So, naturally, when I got David's e-mail, I was tempted to dismiss it. : But the more I learned about Red Bar Radio, the more I understood its significance. David has spent six years building a miniscule following into 20,000 weekly listeners worldwide. And whether or not you enjoy talk radio or find David's sarcasm-heavy RBR funny, you have to respect his dedication to an FM-style, comedy talk format that's nearly extinct in Chicago. : David has worked himself to the bone since 2003, motivated by his desire to trounce local talk radio hosts he deems lazy. His efforts take the form of building up his website, promoting RBR on social-networking sites, soliciting advertisers and researching topics for the show. With revenue from ads and RBR premium members (who pay for access to exclusive multimedia content), he was able to quit his graphic-design day job five months ago. : His work ethic is surprising, given his scholastic record. David grew up in Buffalo Grove and attended Stevenson High School in the late '90s, but was kicked out after his freshman year for ditching classes. He finished tenth through 12th grade at Lincolnshire's Ombudsman, where students go to only one hour of class a day. He attended film school in Florida before cofounding an AV company - Red Bar Productions - and inadvertently birthing Red Bar Radio. His shtick started with a three-minute audio clip on Red Bar's site, but after friends encouraged him to do more, David built it to 30 minutes and slotted space on his website for weekly updates. The show has since relocated to three basements and two living rooms, growing larger every year due to David's marketing efforts and audience word-of-mouth. : David has finally found something he's passionate about - that's the sense I got upon visiting his Albany Park condo for a live show. As I stepped into his studio, which is cluttered with sound boards, computers and a thick fog of cigarette smoke, I could hear David's thick Chicago accent - the signature sound of his exaggerated on-air persona. Still broadcasting, he said he wanted to "clear the air" and asked what I thought of the segment in which he talked about me. I had no idea what he meant, so I told him it's all good and took a seat off to the side. The show picked back up, and as part of an ongoing gag, David sprayed cohost Dean Carlson in the face with Silly String. Carlson said "F#ck you" while David and guest commentator James Fritz laughed hysterically. More "F#ck you"-ing; more laughing; we were off to an uncomfortable start. : David eventually moved on—he was eager to talk about comments Matt Damon made regarding Sarah Palin, that her come-from-nowhere story is like a "bad Disney movie." He played the clip, then proceeded to tear into Palin, his Alaskan former roommate and "retarded" people - positing passionately that "They do reek of boogers," and that "retards'" friends are the only ones offended by this kind of talk. : Others agreed with David's assessment of PC culture: "Dean from Australia," a regular listener who has a Red Bar tattoo (he's not the only one), Skyped in to throw in his two cents, and to talk about his 34th birthday. The gang's genuine excitement eased the earlier tension, and the discussion became more lively. : Despite my best efforts, I found I was actually enjoying myself. In just a few minutes, the show started to feel like a conversation among friends who share a sick sense of humor, and the door was open for anyone to join. "Everybody thinks bad shit," David says. "I was on the train today and some fat guy sat next to this girl. She's thinking, Oh my God, this slob is here. I don't think anyone's censoring themselves in their mind, so you shouldn't have to in real life." : David's humor is not for everyone, and the show's "We make fun of everybody" tagline has gotten him in trouble. In early 2007, after a string of noise complaints filed by female neighbors, David got incensed on-air and tore the women apart. They heard the broadcast and told the police they feared he would commit a hate crime against them (they were a same-sex couple). A judge threw out the case. Even his cohosts get fed up with David (by his count, he's had a dozen before Carlson): 18 months ago, Fritz quit after David brought on a female comic to promote her new TV show, then bashed her during the interview. : Fritz recently returned, claiming David's mellowed out and no longer does things like berate struggling local comics for terrible sets. "He's grown up - he was a little shock-jockey before, but he's more of a goofball now," he says. : David admits he's toned down, mostly to avoid lawsuits. Still, during my visit, David asked if Carlson's Silly Stringed eyes were okay and offered up a towel - but no apology. You'll never hear "I'm sorry" on air, either. "It's like saying, 'Just kidding' after everything you say," he says. "Penn Jillette said once that insensitivity training is the most important thing we can do... Learn to not let [things] bother you." : Easier said than done. Upon leaving the live show, I downloaded an archived segment titled "Time Out magazine wants to sit in on one of our shows - I scream at them." What followed was a string of visceral, hatred-fueled screams of "You're a f#cking hack, Steve," and a tirade against my habit of drinking wine at comedy shows and the "stupid glasses" he claims I wear - both factually untrue. : So it goes with talk radio - especially the censor-free Internet kind - and Red Bar is an example of how the spirit of Chicago comedy talk is thriving online. Just don't expect David to take any criticism to heart. "The people who don't want to listen to you aren't going to listen," he concedes, "no matter what you say."

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