Mr. Yuk

I don’t like listening to music I don’t like.  I know that sounds redundant, but I really mean it.  A lot of people can be perfectly content no matter what music is playing.  They can go from store to store or bar to bar and not even consider the music.  They just hear it and move to it.  I’m not like them.  It’s hard to explain what country music does to me.  The twang in their voices, the drawl.  The trite lyrics and catchy hooks and steel guitars.  I understand why people like it, but it’s not for me.  John, who sits next to me listens to whatever the local country station is.  They play the same ten songs all day long.  When his music finds my ears, my brain starts to react.  I feel like it puts a look on my face similar to those green poison control stickers.   

If one of these songs should make it into my head and I find myself humming it, I become very disappointed with myself.  I look for another source of music like the victim of a practical joke involving peppers looks for water.  I require familiar music to soothe the wounds.