Regretfully Indifferent

Fight the Power. Stay Informed.

Sunday, November 02, 2003

I stole this from a random site. I hear this all night every night...


Songs of Kmart: The Power of Repetition

At first you hardly notice. The songs aren't all that bad; or so it seems. The first day is a pleasant medley of music. Sure, they may have played two horrendous songs by Boston, but at least they only played one of Barbara Striesand's. Day two: Another pleasant medley of music. If the listener is sharp enough, he will notice that these are the same songs as yesterday. No matter, they can't do this EVERY day, can they? CAN THEY???

Well, according to the Bill of Rights, the suckers CAN. And they DO. Of course, they like to mix it up every now and again. One week they'll go on a Rod Stewart kick, the next will be dedicated to Roy Orbison. How do these 'Dedication Weeks' work, the eternal reader asks the Punk God? Quite simple, actually. The lower denizens of Kmart pull out the greatest hits album of the said 'artist'. The Kmart person hits 'Play'. The Kmart person hits 'Repeat'. The Kmart person goes home, leaving the rest of us locked onto "Pretty Woman" for the rest of the week. My highest personal count of one song in an eight hour shift is five, set by "TLC" by some unknown country band. "I need TLC ASAP!" I will never cleanse myself of those terrible lyrics.

There are two types of Kmart workers. Those that live with the music, and those that fight it to the bitter, blood-drooling end. My best defense was to hum some catchy Nirvana melody for 8 solid hours, but I also found hiding in the bathroom, where one could turn OFF the speaker via the lil' knob, to be even better, although temporary. And did it ever make coming out of the bathroom a painful experience!

My sources have told me that other stores simply lock onto the local crap radio station. Kmart was far more brutal in its torture. Kmart has been practicing its craft for almost a century; it knows exactly how to get inside the mind of its slaves and spoon out the innards. Kmart has its OWN radio network. THE KMART RADIO NETWORK, as the annoying announcer liked to announce.

One day, they played a song by the Monkees. I was in heaven, such a song was bliss after the tortures I had felt. But then I truly understood the EVIL that runs through Kmart. Directly after the drab melodious tune, BARBARA STRIESAND assaulted my ears. Blood- real, sticky, red, goddamn blood- began to pour from my ears. They say the Rack is bad. Bah. They say the Chinese Water Torture is a killer. Feh. They say that the thing in the Princess Bride is the worst of all. They know nothing. Kmart has found the secret to torture, and they use it wisely- to brainwash, to corrupt, to rule the world.

[Listening to: "O Come Emmanuel" by Chasing Furies]

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