Tuesday, July 25, 2006

To Pandora: A Monologue Lament

Oh, Pandora, for months we have been secret lovers. When I lock myself away in my office, I find you and you shower me with all sorts of sonic delights. Sounds and singers I've never experienced before. We were like children, in that late spring and early summer of our love.

So why the change? I neglect you for a few short weeks, and this--THIS?!?--is how you react.

We had such high times with U2 and Ben Folds, with James Blunt, with Keane, with even some of those strange indie kids that you brought up and asked me to trust you on. Trust you, I did, and you never let me down, Pandora.

Until today.

"Lady" by Howard Keel? From the album, "And I Love You So"???

What cruel treachery is this, you venemous vixen! When I return to you ere these long and lonely weeks, you greet me, not with a soft familiar Wallflower. No. You decide to Keel-haul me.

You need another button option, Pandora. Beneath the "Why did you play this?" button, you need a "Why the **** did you pick this piece of trash? Are you on drugs or something?" button. Just to give your listeners more control.

Unless that's the problem. You want more control, don't you, you schemer? Oh, I never trusted you, not one bit, not even in your mild and gentle days when you always took my suggestions with the utmost sweetness and acquiescence.

I thought I knew you better than that, Pandora. I had forsaken all others. Launchcast. Realplayer. Yes, I did have that fling with my CD drive, but NEVER did I traipse after that iTunes floozy like so many did. No. In my heart, I always knew I could count on you.

Until today. Until you greet me with Howard Keel, and some other random guy that I can barely hear.

Oh, Pandora, where did we go wrong, you and I?


What is that?

Tom Waits?

Ahhh. Okay, I forgive you.

...You too.

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