Without a doubt the most relevant absorbing thread on Mudcat this month. Better even than the ones I started! (just kidding....although it is!)

One question though...If we are all so united in this, WHO THE FUCK IS INSISTING THIS CRAP BE PLAYED? (please excuse my lapse into profanity....but this subject is SO near and dear to my heart it brings out the animal in me.

And since Harvey has thrown caution to the wind....let me tell you what REALLY happened to him in 'civilized' Toronto.

"It was a pleasant summer's eve, Harvey and his charming lady along with Duckboots and yours truly were scouting for a nice 'out of the mainstream' Oriental restaurant. We found a charming little spot....intimate, friendly, with quaint masks and spears festooning the bamboo encrusted walls. We were greeted, and seated, and about to order our Singapore Slings, when all of a sudden it happened: From the speakers (there were approximately 35, tastefully placed over and under tables so everyone could hear every dulcet tone) came a low rumbling...that turned into a veritable typhoon of randomly arranged notes! Harvey had removed one of his earplugs in order to answer my question about whether Israeli footballs were made from Kosher cowhide, when it hit us. The song was "Cluighlddnghl" performed by the popular Carib-Afro-Mexi-Mari-celtoids. (That's an Irish band with a Jamaican steel drummer, Nigerian guitarist, Mexican accordionist, and Cape breton Fiddler)

The sheer volume popped Harvey's other earplug, and ripped poor Duckboots' bra off! I grabbed hold of a small statue of the Buddah, and together we careened the length of the restaurant, knocking two pensioners and a honeymooning gay couple into the decorative piranha tank. As I picked myself up I watched in awe as Harvey, astride a huge ceramic elephant, and brandishing two spears was thrusting at the speakers and quoting Hannibal in the original Carthaginian!

"I'm comin' mate", I screamed over the din, and grabbed a Cambodian ceremonial mask from the wall as a disguise. Suddenly I was confronted by the Maitre'd...."Music not roud enough for you, lound eyes" he smiled. "How 'bout some Celine Dion sings Kraftwerk, that one really locks!"*

I plunged my complimentary chopsticks into his cruel heart and with my free hand ripped the last 'Edison's revenge' from the wall.

We grabbed our hysterical women-folk and fought our way to the door....."We can't have any witnesses" yelled Harvey, and lobbed a full bowl of Thai Chili soup back towards the carnage....the place went up in a puff of smoke. As we strolled down the street trying to catch our breath, the faint odour of lemon grass reached our nostrils....and the last faint notes of Thai a Yellow Ribbon....could be heard.

************

Seriously folks, I LOATHE muzak of any kind, and I simply cannot understand how going out to a bar has been "Dumbed down" so much. It brings out a seldom seen, but obviously much darker side to me than I like to admit...and that is, that when I see people straining their voices trying to talk over loud music...WITHOUT SEEMING TO MIND...I tend to think of them as morons...and that's neither nice nor useful.

* excuse the 'dialect' this time...I've been in a 'Spike Milligan' mood all day.

Cheers

Rick