The program begins with upbeat music that sounds like a game show theme. Colors shimmer across the screen, and the title appears: "Hello, President."
That's Hugo Chavez's cue, and the show is on, AP reported.
The Venezuelan president's program usually lasts between four and six hours on Sundays. It's become a time-tested tool for connecting with his public, monopolizing attention and setting the national agenda.
The media-savvy leader turned it into something more like a one-man telethon with two days of talk on Thursday and Friday to mark the program's 10th anniversary. He was on the air for about 15 hours, telling stories, lashing out at critics and occasionally breaking into song.
"I think from now on we're going to have 'Hello President' every day. I'm liking the dynamic," Chavez quipped as he began one episode at a Caracas park.
Even so, what he initially billed as a four-day marathon was scaled back. The information ministry cited "technical reasons" for calling off Sunday's show.
Chavez is probably the world's most long-winded leader, an extraordinary communicator who craves the spotlight, thrives on confrontation and excels as an entertainer. His keeps Venezuelans talking about him - whether they love him or hate him.
The live addresses are essential to his style and allow him to govern through the media.
All top officials are expected to spend long hours listening. Without warning, he is prone to announce Cabinet changes or seizures of companies. Sometimes he upbraids officials for potholes or trash-strewn streets.
"Hello President" was first broadcast on the radio on May 23, 1999, shortly after Chavez took office. State television began airing it the next year.
Since then, Chavez has appeared riding a horse, driving a tractor and atop a bicycle manufactured with help from Iran. He used the program to announce he was sending troops and tanks to the border with Colombia last year, and once told former President George W. Bush in accented English: "You are a donkey, Mr. Danger."
The former army paratroop commander says the program is his "battery of artillery in the battle of ideas."
Even in a typical week, Chavez's near-daily speeches make him a constant media presence. By law, all broadcasters are required to interrupt programming and carry Chavez's speeches whenever he deems it necessary. He has taken over the airwaves hundreds of times in recent years.
Chavez's friend and mentor Fidel Castro - once a prolific speaker himself - has appeared on the program and says he watches it regularly. The 82-year-old Cuban leader wrote in a column that by his own conservative number-crunching, Chavez has dedicated roughly 1,536 hours to "Hello President" - "the equivalent of 64 days in all."
For some, that's too much.
Venezuelan comedian Laureano Marquez wrote a spoof several years ago imagining life under the perpetual broadcast of a leader dubbed "Chacu." Marquez envisions him cleaning his teeth on TV as he educates children on brushing techniques, before bursting into song with his mouth full of toothpaste. Chacu uses lunchtime to relate a favorite recipe from his grandmother, and even dominates the dreams of citizens through telepathic broadcasts.
Spain's King Juan Carlos famously told Chavez to "shut up" after hearing a small dose at a 2007 summit.
During the recent two-day special, Chavez reviewed charts of economic statistics, recited poetry and proclaimed Jesus to be a pioneer of socialist ideals. During one late-night episode, Chavez suddenly banged on a xylophone, saying, "Don't fall asleep on me."
Often emotional, the president choked up once last year while reading a sentimental letter from his daughter Maria.
But he also can be crude and aggressive toward opponents, calling them "oligarchs," "mafia bosses" and stooges doing Washington's bidding.
Critics are rarely heard on his shows - and his unexpected invitation to let some appear on Saturday quickly fell through with a characteristic flurry of controversy.
Chavez ridiculed a proposal for a one-on-one debate with Peruvian author Mario Vargas Llosa using a baseball analogy: "Buddy, I'm in the major leagues and you're in double-A."
That left Chavez - as usual - as the sole protagonist for his next televised appearance.
His folksy, unrefined style resonates with many Venezuelans. And to the fans who tune in, he presents a father figure who informs and entertains.
"It's fun," said Andres Blanco, a 48-year-old supporter. "He'll tell a story and then he starts singing."
Vanessa Davies, a talk show host on state television, calls Chavez "the great communicator of the revolution."
Others deride him as a clown who lacks sophistication or tact. Some avoid watching him at all costs.
"I listen to him for 10 minutes and that's it. I can't stand listening to all the stupid things he says," said Marina Velosa, 63, a street vendor who complained the president seems to be obsessed with imposing his will but ignores problems like crime and inflation.
Chavez himself often jokes about his tendency to talk on and on. He once noted that his opponents say "what Chavez has done is talk, talk and talk." He said they're right about that, and "I'll keep doing it as long as God wishes, because words are a fundamental weapon."