posted on Jan, 14 2009 @ 07:43 PM
The odds are you have bad taste in music. Maybe not, but the odds are that you have bad taste in music.
Happy toy ears.
It's not entirely your fault.
Success means jobs, executive salaries, advertising revenue, and transportation industry contracts. It means sales of sound equpment, electronics,
tourism, fashion, concert venue tickets, jewellry, cigarettes, magazines, perfume, cars, pets, high school sporting equpment, sneakers, t shirts,
computers and handguns.
The population of the world is increasing.
People are living closer together.
Speakers are more powerful and walls are thinner.
A desperate, titanic struggle has been gathering momentum.
On one side, the vastly more populous of the combatants is complaiscent in it's sense of safety. For the most part, its canon fodder, recruited from
the fear driven production line of an education system that regards conformity as the supreme virtue, well-insulated passive-aggressive peas in a
giant pod within the consumption meme.
For the most part, they are not even aware that there is a counter meme of silence.
They have yet to even begin to imagine the possibility that somebody may not participate simultaeneously with them in the entry level enjoyment of the
variation of air pressure waves produced by the electrical stimulation of their speaker diaphrams.
Theirs not to question the warmed-over sentiment.
The direction their life is taking in a sound-painting by numbers.
The cloaking of mind-candy emotions in the language of the fear of introspection.
The frustration at the receding horizon of a hinted-at fulfillment, expressed in volume knob control, and small-time relationship opportunism.