The file clicks on. There’s the warm hiss of a studio microphone, then Howard’s iconic voice—gravelly, half-laughing, already annoyed.
“Put him on.” Howard’s voice drips with glee.
“Melvin, I respect your commitment to flatulence-based vigilantism. But unless you can clear a room at the Friars Club, you’re a tribute act. Security? Escort the gas man out.” howard stern archive 1999
“I have—and I am not making this up—a man in the lobby wearing a full Fartman costume. Cape. Mask. The ass nozzle. He claims he’s the real Fartman. He wants to challenge me to a ‘flatulence duel.’”
In 1999, the Howard Stern Show was at its chaotic, boundary-shattering peak—terrestrial radio’s last wild years before satellite and podcasts changed everything. An archive from that year isn’t just a collection of bits; it’s a time capsule of analog-era provocation, recorded onto DAT tapes and hard drives that fans hoarded like gold. The file clicks on
And somewhere, on a forgotten hard drive in a New Jersey basement, Melvin the impostor’s full audition tape still exists. Waiting.
The studio erupts: Gary “Baba Booey” Dell’Abate groans; Fred Norris hits a fart sound effect (No. 7 from the “Brown Note” library). A caller, Vinny from Queens, screams: “LET HIM UP! I GOT TWENTY BUCKS ON THE FARTMAN!” Escort the gas man out
“Alright. Robin. We have a situation.”