So there they were, these nice people — well, it was on public radio, so of course they were nice people; I think there’s some sort of niceness test you have to take before you can get on public radio — talking about the tech bubble.

Yeah, I hear you — I didn’t know there was a tech bubble going on, either. But then, I’ve been so fascinated by the race for the Republican presidential nomination that it’s been hard to pay attention to real life.

But apparently, there is a tech bubble going on, and we all remember what happened with the last tech bubble.

(Well, if truth be told, we don’t. I don’t, anyway. But then, the only market I can afford to dabble in is the Farmers’ Market, which doesn’t have bubbles. That I know of, anyway.)

Meanwhile, back at anyway, I learned from the three nice public-radio people (well, one public-radio person, the announcer, and two economic experts — details, details) that there are four stages to a bubble — who knew? — the first, when a few smart people sense something and start investing; the second, when more mainstream investors follow them; the third, when the general public pour in like lemmings (who do not, I’m told, jump off cliffs); and the fourth, when pop goes the weasel.

Or something like that.

Then Audie Cornish, the public-radio announcer, said something to the effect of when do we in the general public know when the bubble is going to burst?

And public radio — with a silent BLIP — suddenly went off the air. And stayed off the air. And stayed off the air. And stayed — well, you get the idea.

Talk about your bubbles bursting. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes. Dead air gets very silent, I discovered. Who knew? Or perhaps, who new?

You know what I said to myself. No, what? myself said. I was nodding off there.

This is what public radio should do for fundraising, I said to myself. No more haranguing and haranguing and haranguing and — well, you get the idea. You’ve heard public-radio fundraising drives.

Just silence.

This must be what Mitt Romney’s brain sounds like a lot of the time, I said to myself. I wonder what Ann Romney says about that.

You don’t want to go anywhere near there, myself said, not nodding off after all.

I’m not going to touch Ann Romney, I told myself. I mean that metaphorically, of course. Not literally. To use a word that practically everyone misuses.

Metaphorically, myself said. I met a 4 once. He had a great sense of humor. I wonder what ever happened to Chuck.

Now, the Mitt. I’d touch the Mitt, I said. Metaphorically, of course. I don’t even want to think about literal.

You leave Ann Romney alone, myself said. You saw what happened to Hilary Rosen. Besides, you don’t know diddly, Beau, about raising children.

Wait a minute, I said. I worked in a daycare. We, I mean. We worked in a daycare.

I didn’t work in a daycare, myself said. I must have been nodding off.

You’re always doing that, I said. What I remember about the daycare is that once you finally finished washing all the mess of dishes and pots and pans that was lunch, you couldn’t wait for the charming and wonderful kids to nod off into naps.

I wonder if that’s the way it was for Ann Romney.

Don’t go there, myself said. Concentrate on the Mitt.

That’s like concentrating on dead air, I said. Which is what we’ve been doing with this public-radio thing. I do know this about the Mitt: His campaign people jumped all over Hilary Rosen, saying she was an adviser to the Obama campaign. But she has no connection to the Obama campaign. Just as Ann Romney has no connection to working people. She’s never had the chef sternly tell her, I want those diced, not chopped.

Don’t go there, myself said.

And I know this about the Mitt: His father once ran for the GOP nomination for president; he dropped out after famously saying he had been brainwashed about the war in Vietnam. Mitt has apparently been brainwashed about the rich people in the United States.

Of course, first of all, he must demonstrate that he has a brain to wash.