When we last left Nat Bernstein and his Wright at Night program, the zero-hit wonder group the Ska-Bees had stormed out of the studio after one program as house band, swearing to never return, and therefore throwing a wrench in Nat's plans (see Theme to Wright at Night). Wright at Night, like everyone’s program, was contractually ordered to produce five episodes. Perhaps "contractually ordered" is a bit strong here; let's say, instead, your grade was dependent on your ability to complete a 15-or-30-minute program every other week.
Nat did the only thing he could for his live-to-tape, sans-audience late night talk show: he just reused the tape from the first episode for each opening and closing on subsequent weeks. Yes, at least three out of the five episodes featured the same shot of the Ska-Bees playing the same theme song. Word around the department was that some of the Ska-Bees eventually caught a later episode and all but demanded their likeness be removed from the program. Their request was honored.
Wright at Night did not really gel as a late night talk show because Community Channel Seven did not have late night hours – they usually signed-off student programming between 9 and 10 p.m., making Wright at Night more of a prime time talk show that aired before the all-night Community Bulletin Board. In turn, guests were hard to come by, there was no band, and any thought of spontaneity was lost on the multiple takes during taping. By the last program, Nat had apparently given up all hope and taken his J.T. Wright character onto campus one afternoon for silly "man on the corner" type confrontations. It was painful, not just because the last show was a total flip of format from the previous episodes, but more so because it was apparent the cast and crew was just going through the motions to fulfill class requirements and vomit out a final show. Soon the semester was over and there should end the fateful tale of Nathan Bernstein, and more so, J.T. Wright.
Visiting campus four of five years after graduating (and after my dive into and surfacing out of graduate school), I ran into the faculty advisor for the radio station who, in the course of our conversation, mentioned Bernstein. I was surprised to hear that Nat had surfaced not long before at the department's spring awards ceremony, trying to bask in his former glory. Why he showed up in the first place never made sense but, never the less, as an alumnus he was allowed to present one of the awards and did so – after prefacing his remarks with a comedy routine a la J.T. Wright. He bombed, or so said the faculty advisor, since no one knew who he was or understood his jokes.
When I heard that sad little story all I could envision was Nat alone on stage, grasping a golf club the same way that Bob Hope would, trying to get a rise from people who didn’t understand who he was or why we was wearing that god-awful sweater. An easy target of ridicule, indeed.
The Foo Fighters, or at least Dave Grohl, sang about being Alone + Easy Target on their debut album, one whose tracks easily fit our station’s sound and got plenty of airtime the summer and fall semester of 1995. After that, most Foo Fighters became popular currency at the station, and rightly so.
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Alone + Easy Target
(Dave Grohl)
Foo Fighters
From the album Foo Fighters
1995
They knew all along
They're not dumb, they were so wrong
She's not always fun
Hate it now, call when i'm done
Pieces fell in place
Puzzles suck, laugh in my face
Turn and swing the pace
I'll give this, keep the good waist
Head is on
I want out
I'm alone and i'm an easy target
Metronome
I want out
I'm alone and i'm an easy target
Crazy tv dreams might be true
Not what it seems.
Food and cavities, chewing words
Tear at the seams
He don't feel so good, don't feel bad
Not that he should
I don't feel so good, don't feel bad
Not that i should
Did you ever listen?
Get out
