Member-only story
I Refused to Host a Podcast. Now They’re Coming for Me.
A dose of humor on a stressful day. You’re welcome.
My ordeal began nearly 30 days ago on a Thursday at 6:00 am with aggressive banging on our front door. I rushed downstairs and opened the door to two big men in black leather, billy clubs dangling from belts. One waved a paper I couldn’t read without my glasses. He asked if they could come in, then entered before I could respond.
“Who are you?” I asked. “What’s this about? Show me some ID, at least.” The men flashed badges I couldn’t read and waved the paper, which might’ve been a page ripped either from an NYPD Blue script or the U.S. Constitution.
“Are you Susan McGillicuddy?” asked one of the goons. I nodded, unable to come up with a good reason to lie. “You are hereby charged with Reckless Nonparticipation under Article 12, Section 206.7 of the — ”
“Wait, what?” I shouted. “I know my rights! What’s this really about?”
I looked to my husband Arnie for support, but he just shrugged.
“It’s simple, Ms. McGillicuddy,” said the other goon. “You don’t have a podcast.”
“I don’t…what?” Again, I turned to Arnie. He shook his head and looked away. Arnie had a podcast. I think. Whatever it was, it involved an expensive microphone and headphones, and other…
