I drove to the City this afternoon, and, as is my custom when driving alone for long distances, I passed some time scanning and intermittently stopping at various radio stations. This is the story of my amusing (if you enjoy sick humor) experience.
The first station I stopped on was a classic Country station. I first stopped because it sounded so much like a Southern Gospel song I know that I could have sung the Gospel lyrics in place of those on the radio. The actual lyrics, however, were not bad, and I appreciated a series of several songs celebrating lifelong love and fidelity. Admittedly idealistic, I reveled a while in the idealism. Then I heard something like "When we made love was more than just an affair; I really love you." Involuntarily flaring my nostrils in disgust and feeling slightly nauseous, I said aloud, "I can't listen to this" and promptly moved on.
The station two hits down was again Country (remember, I'm in the south), this time contemporary. The words caught my attention as they celebrated a woman pouring her heart and soul into building her husband's home, raising their kids, ironing his clothes, and more. I was comfortably appreciating the beauty of the sentiment when the chorus rudely interrupted. . .and the perfect homemaker came home to find in a note that her husband didn't love her anymore. What did she do? Let herself go, of course. . .to enjoy her first blind date and. . .that's when I moved on, blinking in disbelief.
Later, of course, I returned to both stations. . .allowing ample time for the blasphemous tunes to end.
That's my tale, my trip between two cities. In the future, I will attempt to remember that, at any moment, the appreciable songs on any Country station may be rudely interrupted by something more deserving of laughter and derision than easygoing enjoyment.