Killing Me Softly With Their Song
Taste is a peculiar thing. It’s very subjective – for example, I can’t stand Natasha Bedingfield, but I can see why people with no ears might like her. I don’t personally like to wear my jeans around my ankles, but teenagers think this low-slung look makes them look ‘wid it’. Taste is never black and white – there are varying shades of grey, but there are, however, moments when vast majority of sane-thinking people turn to each other incredulously and silently scream “What the fuck were they thinking?”
I had a “what the fuck were they thinking” moment the other day when I walked into Clinton Cards and was greeted by the Spice Girls ‘Wannabe’, being played on the pan pipes. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to murder a Spice Girls number, but this one was being positively bludgeoned to death with an over-sized Care Bear. I had to leave before started vomiting out of my ears. Some of you may say I was asking for it by walking into Clinton Cards, but they’re not the only ones at it. I went for an Indian over the weekend and the backing music seemed to be a loop of ‘A Groovy Kind of Love’ arranged for the Casio keyboard (you know - one of the ones that you had as a kid and used to play the demo when your gran came round so she thought you were really good and gave you some money).
It’s almost as if they’d thought “What would our customers like to listen to while savouring an onion bhaji or perusing a selection of inoffensive yet affordable greetings cards? I know – how about this melee of aural bile and sputum that will cause them to fit uncontrollably and vomit out their own intestines? Yes, that’s what they’d like.” The only good thing that I can draw from being subjected to such tripe is that it causes such a violent reaction in my guts. The day that I find myself in Clinton Cards and actually tapping my foot is the day that I pick up the stupid over-sized Care Bear and suffocate myself by swallowing it whole. I pray that day never comes.
I had a “what the fuck were they thinking” moment the other day when I walked into Clinton Cards and was greeted by the Spice Girls ‘Wannabe’, being played on the pan pipes. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to murder a Spice Girls number, but this one was being positively bludgeoned to death with an over-sized Care Bear. I had to leave before started vomiting out of my ears. Some of you may say I was asking for it by walking into Clinton Cards, but they’re not the only ones at it. I went for an Indian over the weekend and the backing music seemed to be a loop of ‘A Groovy Kind of Love’ arranged for the Casio keyboard (you know - one of the ones that you had as a kid and used to play the demo when your gran came round so she thought you were really good and gave you some money).
It’s almost as if they’d thought “What would our customers like to listen to while savouring an onion bhaji or perusing a selection of inoffensive yet affordable greetings cards? I know – how about this melee of aural bile and sputum that will cause them to fit uncontrollably and vomit out their own intestines? Yes, that’s what they’d like.” The only good thing that I can draw from being subjected to such tripe is that it causes such a violent reaction in my guts. The day that I find myself in Clinton Cards and actually tapping my foot is the day that I pick up the stupid over-sized Care Bear and suffocate myself by swallowing it whole. I pray that day never comes.
Technorati Tags: cards, Spice Girls, murder
posted by Matt at 7:55 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home