Acoustic Rapes

I go through phases where I behave as the culture whore I aspire to be. I saw a play last night. Nothing so earth shattering; they’re still working out the kinks. ‘In previews’ I think the artistic term is.

But, I’m always open to come what may, and it came to me in a throwaway line early in the first act. My apologies to the playwright, but it went something like this:

[On the inescapable inevitability of Bing Crosby’s ‘White Christmas’ during the holiday season} ‘It’s like a tiny acoustic rape every time…’

I’ve no real thoughts on Bing Crosby. But. that was a brilliant, yet conflicting moment for me. If the word ‘rape’ is co-opted for to describe any moment other than that unspeakable personal violation, does it diminish the power of that word, or desensitize us to its significance?

On a more superficial deconstruction of that line, it made me wonder about how we fall victim to auditory assaults on a daily basis. All too often, I do feel imposed upon to endure other people’s conversations, mind-numbing diatribes on whatever it is they’re watching on television, or their latest spiritual awakening. And that’s just from the people I like.

I, however, have had to endure the indignity of being called selfish because I don’t want to hear what someone has to say, listen to a snippet of their new favorite song, or check out this totally awesome youtube video. I have no intrinsic dislike of you or these things that bring you joy. But for pete’s sake, pick your audience, and pick your moment!

I think opinions and suggestions are like vampires. They have to be invited in.