I have recently had the experience of driving a van 15,000 miles around the United States with an international group of men, women, and children. I think fifty years from now when I am leaning back in a rocking chair reminiscing about this trip, the main thing I might remember, other than John Tesh's tireless quest to bring intelligence to America's airwaves, is how often American radio stations, during this holiday season of Yuletide cheer, play "The Little Drummer Boy."
After a solid three months of FM channel surfing, I think I might like to do something petty and very unmissionarylike to that little drummer boy, whose song is now firmly cemented in my brain.
I am joking, of course. What I would really like to do is to put that little drummer boy and John Tesh in a room together long enough so that the little drummer boy will come out spewing pointless factoids with profound voice inflections and John Tesh will be singing "I have no gifts to bring... a-rump-a-pum-pum". It would serve them both right... nothing against the little drummer boy or John Tesh.
