Dear, Mr. Radio Man,
I do not want to hear your shitty music in the car beside me because you need your sub bass playing so loud you start an earthquake or have a seizure. I do not want to hear your shitty music while you sit next to me on the bus, they’re called “Headphones” for a reason, because they belong ON YOUR HEAD. I do not want to hear the shitty music on that stupid boom box you carry around on your shoulder because everyone MUST like what YOU like. I do not want to hear the shitty music coming from next door at 2 in the morning when I’m trying to sleep. You know the volume control knob has a “low” setting too, right? I do not want you to turn up your music when I try to speak to someone next to me, trust me, I don’t want the person to think I’m singing “Disturbia” because they can’t hear ME now. I don’t want to have to keep repeating myself when speaking to you because you won’t take 5 seconds to be curtious and take the fucking headphones OFF. And for the love of god, please please PLEASE don’t mouth the words of the song you’re singing, seriously, you look like you’re talking to the voices in your head.
I refuse to accept that whatever you’re listening to is more important than the rest of the world. In fact, the only good thing about that is one day when you’re house is on fire and you can’t hear the alarm because you’re music is too loud, YOU WILL BURN TO DEATH.
Sincerely,
Mark Wiland
