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What Form Rejection Means To Me

Dear [insert name here] The Rejectionist,

We want to thank you for submitting your [type of submission] essay topic, [title of submission]What Form Rejection Means To Me,” to The Anger Ball. Unfortunately, we don’t think it would be a good fit for our blog, as it does not fall into any of the topics we generally pursue. [insert personalized feedback] “What Form Rejection Means To Me” initially piqued our interest, but it failed to keep us as enthralled as we had hoped. However, the character of Lola Pants was intriguing, and with more development, we may be interested in future topics involving her.

We hope you will be able to find representation elsewhere, and please keep us in mind for future submissions.

The Anger Ball


Your taste in music confirms my hatred of you

I figured I’d round off this week sticking with the music theme.

Even though I have managed to escape to suburbia, there are things I am learning are universal. For example: No matter where you go, some asshole is going to feel the need to share their terrible taste in music with the world.

In the cesspool city I just fled, it used to be people pumping the bass, which is inarguably even WORSE than people just blasting music because you can’t even TELL WHAT SONG IT IS. All you know is it’s 3AM and your windows are shaking and someone’s dogs are barking while some asshole is stopped at the red light on your street with their bass shattering ear drums everywhere. But it wasn’t just people in cars blasting music, unfortunately, because at least that was almost always transient (hey, the light turns green eventually, even if it feels like fucking eternity when you’re trying to fall back asleep for work the next day!). We also had the pleasure of living near people who liked to blast their music in the morning or late at night from their porch or apartment window. Breaking news: Not everyone likes the same type of music; that’s why there are so many different genres. So please keep your fucking terrible taste to yourself.

I thought maybe I had escaped this by moving to a relatively quiet neighborhood, and in honesty I mostly have. There is no more window-shattering bass, at least, and during the day it is mostly quiet. But this past weekend I learned that the guy living across the street from me is obsessed with hand-washing his car and likes to blast his car’s stereo while he does this. It’s weird because his house has a garage and he parks his car inside it, yet I saw him washing his car both Saturday and Sunday. Well, by “saw” I really mean “heard”. I’m sure it’s boring to hand-wash your car, and doing it in silence can probably drive a person insane. But guess what? Mp3 players were invented for a reason, asshole. Put on some fucking headphones and boogie down all you want, but stop assaulting the rest of us.

Frankly, I don’t even care if someone has the same taste in music as I do and blasts it. It’s rude to do so in a public area no matter where you are. (And just for clarity: my neighbor was washing his car on the street, not in his garage, so it was a public space. And I would argue that even if he was in his garage, if his music is loud enough to be heard across the street, it qualifies as being part of public space and thus worthy of my ire.) Trust me that everyone is constantly judging you for a million other reasons—you don’t want to add your music taste to that list. At least not immediately.

The other music overshare trend that I just don’t understand is people who have headphones in, for example on public transportation, but have the music turned up SO LOUD that people near them can hear it. And I don’t just mean can hear that there is music playing; I mean hearing lyrics and harmonies and rhythms. No lie, I was once sitting next to someone with their music turned up so loud I could hear it through the music I was listening to. I think just trying to comprehend how that’s possible killed half of my brain cells that day. Look, I know that subways can be noisy and the public service announcements can be really damned annoying, but you know what’s even worse? Being forced to listen to someone else’s shitty music. So turn your damned headphones down. Plus, if there’s an emergency, how do you expect to hear what the conductor is saying when your music is so loud it’s making your ear drums bleed? Oh, right. You expect to pop out one of your ear buds, look at me and ask “What did they say?” Like I’m your personal assistant who’s just more than happy to let you know what you missed while you were rocking out to some terrible song.

You want to know what the conductor said? He said turn down your fucking music before I shove your mp3 player down your throat.

Monthly Raging

June 2019
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