I was away at college in the South in the fall of 1978 and became friends with a DJ for the top rock station in the midsize city. My roommate and the DJ were from the same small town, and when the DJ caught his first big break to work in the city, my roommate dropped him a note, and the DJ dropped by one day. My roomie wasn't there, but the DJ and I tossed back a few shots of Jack Daniels and got along well. He and the roomie had nothing in common except their hometown, as it turned out, but the DJ and I hung out a lot until I left school at the end of the semester. He was just a good ol' Southern country boy who liked to party, and he thought WKRP was the greatest show ever. We were watching the night of the turkeys episode and I don't think I've ever seen anyone laugh harder. We lost touch after a while, and a few years ago I tried to locate him. His sister works on a small newspaper in Virginia, and she told me he had a massive stroke (he'd be in his early 50s now) and can't speak well enough to work in radio and that his memory is not so good. He doesn't remember me, apparently. Peace, Mike. I hope you get the DVDs and that it jogs your memory a little.