Howard Stern Archive 1999 Now

“He’s got a squeeze toy in his pants, Howard. A rubber chicken modified with a tube.”

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!”

“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.’” howard stern archive 1999

“Put him on.” Howard’s voice drips with glee.

Robin Quivers’ laugh cuts in. “What now, Howard?” “He’s got a squeeze toy in his pants, Howard

“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.”

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. A caller, Vinny from Queens, screams: “LET HIM UP

What makes the archive magic is what follows: twenty minutes of raw, unplanned radio. Howard sends Artie Lange down to interview the impostor. Artie, already half-drunk on his 11 a.m. whiskey, reports back live via cellphone—the kind of janky tech that made 1999 feel like the frontier.