Friday, April 11, 2008

(Brrrrrrrrrrr) What happened to that boy

This morning on the train there was this guy standing in front of me wearing headphones. Now, the 6 train is very quiet in the morning as everyone is miserable and tired and aware of the fact that we are being herded like cattle into the open glistening mouth of cubicle hell, so it is always easy to hear what people are listening to regardless of headphone density. So this dude was listening to some repetitive rap beat which, every few minutes, would be punctured by the sound of firing guns. Yes. Firing guns.
And at first I was worried. What sort of person listens to the sounds of war in the morning? And, I thought, if he is listening to this song in the morning, what does he listen to at night? It could only get worse. What sort of effect does this have on a person?

But then I thought about this song that Lindsay and I used to listen to in college.
Birdman (baby?)- ‘What happened to that boy?’
Okay, well really it was just me who listened to it, and I did it to make her laugh, but somewhere beyond this fa├žade of comic relief lay a genuine affection for the song. I liked the beat, and sometimes they’d play it at the Post.
Not only is the Birdman song unforgivably stupid (he coos like a pigeon during most of it) but it starts with a loud gun shot. I actually think there is more than one gunshot throughout the song as well. So what I would do during college is turn my speakers up really loud and then put that song on, pretending to duck when the gun shot rang out across the whole room. Then Linz and I would laugh and laugh while listening to the rest of the song and attempting to make the bird noises.

So what does this mean? Why would I laugh when I heard a gun shot? Am I just as bad as the skinny dude with a bad moustache who was listening to the machine gun diddy this morning?

And I came to a conclusion. No I am not. I’m funny and he’s a retard.

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