Wednesday, August 17, 2011

30 Day Song Challenge - Day 2

Day 02 - your least favorite song

I hate a lot of songs. At work there is a speaker above my desk for the office intercom system which constantly plays the worst drivel ever pooped from the butt of white loser culture. I hate every singele one of these songs with the fire of a thousand suns. A co-worker tells me that if you type "Matchbox 20" into Pandora, the exact playlist will come up. I don't want to try it because I don't want any of these "artists" to get additional airtime. Adult contemporary is the worst thing ever created. I'd rather listen to crunk-core or witch-house or any of the multitude microgenres recently coined by kids these days than sit through this shit. What could possibly possess someone to write this type of stuff, much less listen to it? But there is one song on the playlist that holds a special place in my heart - well not my heart - what's the part of your body that hates? It holds a special place in my hate storage place.


Behold: Superman, by Five For Fighting. This came out during that time when a lot of shitty bands were writing songs about how it's hard to be Superman, and these guys said, "Hey, that's a lame idea! Let's run with that lame idea, and make an even lamer song that will shrink the collective penis of America! And while we're at it, we'll choose a tough-sounding name that will make the song sound even lamer in comparison!"

In the lovely sport of hockey, you see, a player gets penalized with "five for fighting" in particularly egregious fights, getting five minutes in the penalty box instead of the usual two. Make sense? Sure. Compare it to the song though. Make sense? Fuck no. It has no context in relation to hockey. It's not even the opposite of hockey, because that would somehow relate it to hockey. You can't even ribbon dance to this shit.

I first heard this song in the summer of 2001, I believe, on the college radio station of my hometown. Even though it was a terrible station compared to other college radio stations, this song had no place on their playlist. And it was in heavy rotation. I would call in and request that they don't play it. Every single time it happened. I was driving a lot for work and had the radio on a lot. One of my friends worked at the station and actually didn't play the song when it came up on rotation and was fired for it. He was already on thin ice for playing the wrong Weezer song once, but clearly something nefarious was at work here.

Flash forward to that fall and New York gets attacked by terrorists, and this song suddenly becomes a huge hit. Now, I have always thought the 9-11 truther folks were full of shit, but I am starting to connect the dots. It was not an inside job by the secret global elite as a means of creating an excuse for war in oil-rich lands thereby opening up the Mid-East as grounds for setting up an empire as some would have you believe. No, it was caused by these guys, to make this song a hit, thereby seizing the levers of power in the trans-global adult contemporary internet playlist market, so that they can make my life terrible. I started doing onsite work for a client in February 2009 beneath the intercom speaker and this song came on the speaker that first day. And the volume has slowly been cranked by that secret adult contemporary trans-global elite. I would send a T-1000 back in time to eliminate this band's parents, but I am afraid that tragic irony will step in and my actions will lead to them being spawned, just like with what happened to Linda Hamilton.

And what about that video? It's my first time seeing it, and  the video somehow manages to make the song worse. I hate this band with every ounce of my soul. Yes, I said soul, I am no longer skeptical about the existence of the soul because I can feel my soul being run through a meat grinder with every note of this song. And it gets played at work every single day. Welcome to my nightmare, bitches.

1 comment:

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