Music to Absolutely No One's Ears

Hey Rhonda,

So, I understand you're a music lover, eh? Well, perhaps more accurately, I hear you're a music lover. Hold on, even more accurately, I've been given undeniable proof of your musical affections courtesy of the unrelenting, shrill, off-key renditions of Top 40 hits you perform every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Or, for all intents and purposes, every goddamn day of the week.

What is that? What's going on? Explain yourself please.

Maybe you're just misunderstanding the concept of the radio. See, it's this thing where musicians--fancy word for "song makers"--put their music so it can then be played on the airwaves---fancy word for "invisible sound lines"--and then be shared with listeners across the world. And, so far, it seems like a pretty decent model of distribution. They don't need your help. It's doing just fine.

Now I understand, with the advent of internet radio and bit torrents and cloud players, that you want to get in on this next generation of music marketing. You may think you've stumbled upon a way to make popular music even more popular. (And that process somehow involves the keen sense of timing accompanying your not-at-all disturbing pelvic gyrations.) But let me assure you, it's just not the case.

When you shriek along with that "hot new Bieber track," it doesn't make me want to listen to Justin Bieber any more than I already didn't. It just makes me want to punch you in your voice box until it spits out a cure for the audio herpes you've given my earholes. And don't get me started on the whistling...

Oh, ya know what? Fuck it. Let's talk about the whistling.

There is a time when whistling along with a song is permissable. And that time is when the song you're whistling along with features actual fucking whistling! That's it! When that Flo Rida song comes on, go ahead, let loose, go nuts, do your thing. Do it any other time and you only prove that A) you don't know the actual lyrics or B) you have nothing else to fill the vast voids of communicative silence in your life because you can't be bothered thinking of words to speak. What's next? Growling? Oinking? Elbow clapping? It's a slippery slope...is what I'm saying.

So if you'd be kind enough to leave the singing and/or whistling to the people who get paid to sing and/or whistle their songs on the radio, that would be swell. Then you can get back to doing whatever it is they still pay you to do. (I wanna say soap refiller?)


- Your coworker