Yes, I am speaking of National Public Radio. Wobblers know that something is up. From a college experiment gone wrong, the folks at NPR opened up their studios to various inter-dimensional beings that have it serving their own purposes. This probably happened around the time someone aired the "Rice as Comfort Food" article... .
At first I thought it was kind of cute that Terry Gross was a time traveler that could muster up interviews with folks on the day of her passing. I swear she had her "posthumous interview" with Robin Williams took place the day before he was found dead. Of course she loves it because all she has to do is travel forward in time to find out the celebrity deaths for an upcoming week then travel backwards in time tape an interview, that will sell like hotcakes when she returns to the present. Of course, the casual listener doesn't notice that they've never heard the interview before because he, or she, was not listening when it was supposedly aired the first time anyway. This probably saves her loads of time and effort on getting out many new interviews, which her nefarious masters probably like as well for economic reasons.
Terry Gross is actually a swashbuckling mad-scientist from the Omega Verse. She has been able to break the time travel barriers in her travels. Whenever she does, it causes parts of the universe where she lands to slip into the Omicron Verse.
A true evil genius is Doug Berman(sp?) who not only automated two living beings, into parroting themselves with material from previous years for two years every Saturday morning to do a "live call in show" called Car Talk, he brought one of them back from the dead to continue to repeat themselves weekly for at least a season to date. The show's audience are so enthralled that they without thinking turn their Saturday mornings into a Ground Hog Day style time loop. After a while, they are sure they heard the humor-laden dialog before, but for some reason find a beyond-natural comfort and warmth in the hypnotic dose of nostalgia. They actually don't realize that they are drooling and mumbling the words to an ancient incantation in an unhuman tongue as their morning coffee chills and their bran muffin goes stale. When one of the automatons says, "You've done it again. You've wasted another hour listening to us..." they subconsciously know they haven't. They have yet again repeated a formula to a massive and horrendous enchantment that requires at least one hundred million repetitions to come into effect. Only the master of the Dark Arts, Berman knows what will happen when the spell is complete.
The Sewer Monkeys, the Wewwer, are telepathically manipulating Berman into bringing their wrecked universe into our own Verse space. They haven't actually worked out what will happen when that occurs, but they figure that things can't be any worse for themselves anyway.