Michael Gruber is the acknowledged maestro of the drop. He is the Jackson Pollock, the Picasso of their orchestration, cramming his shows that were his canvas with deadly snippets from remarks, farts, fights, robotics – you name it.
But if Michael was Pollock or Pablo, then Jeremy Moran is Paul Klee. He draws on the white, uncluttered canvas of the Morning Musers. He doesn't interlard the hosts' conversation with prerecorded hilarity at every turn – one might suspect Gordon wouldn't stand for that anyway – but when he does, it's choice, witty and to the point.
Why do I sing the praises of Jer today?
Well, partly because he checks in with this site from time to time and I'm pretty much in the tank for any Ticket guy who takes the time to share some information with the Confessors.
But partly also because of what may have been the best drop I've heard in several years from yesterday's Muser showgram.
Gordon was reciting the story of the viral video in which a couple of guys who seemed to be French enticed a squirrel to what appeared to be the edge of the Grand Canyon with a trail of food, and then kicked it off the ledge into the abyss.
Now that is not a funny story. Nor, really, did the Musers treat it that way.
But then, with what must have been almost unbelievable adroitness at the board, we heard Jer string together:
-- Some men speaking French in excited tones, followed immediately by
-- A whoosh (kicking?) sound, followed immediately by
-- A frightened, extended, squeak.
Followed by – silence. Not the silence of a layout. The silence of the Musers convulsing in breathless laughter. No one was quite sure where the drops came from: The French may have been some kind of altercation at the Tour de France. The whoosh was probably a golf swing. I don't recall any explanation for the terrified squeak.
It was the sheerest kind of Ticket greatness, issued in this case by the grossly undersung Jeremy Moran. Ladies and gentlemen, raise your mugs, I pray you, to the Morning Master Who Is Big and Strong.