Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Radio killed the silent star, in my mind, and in my car

Haki must have the radio on while driving. If I get into the car after he has had it, I turn the key in the ignition to have sound metaphorically blow my hair back. If Haki is the one turning the key, and I am passenger, he utters one of his favourite bits to amuse me in response to the radio suddenly blaring; “It’s still broken”, (in a baby voice, as he frantically turns to the dial down to my-wife-is-with-me-level).

When I drive alone the radio is off.

I have a number of reasons for this preference:

  • I like quiet. I spend most of my time in a room with 30 excitable pre-teens. Getting into a car that serves as a place of solitude is a treat. It is a space I control, where I can think, and no one will interrupt. If there are interruptions, I want to know about it, (say, a blaring horn, a shrieking siren, or a crashing sound – all good things to be able to hear).
  • I hate ads. I rent TV series’ for this reason (that, and I hate being a slave to a station’s schedule – I want to watch when I have the time, not have an appointment to work my life around).
  • I do not enjoy listening to songs over and over. When Haki and I first married he played “Hey Ya” (Outkast) on repeat for approximately one week, non-stop. I was not entertained by this, although his mimicry of the music video’s choreography amused. Currently Haki’s repeat of choice is Imogen Heap’s “Just for Now".
  • I do not enjoy listening to people that cannot speak. It seems many NZ radio hosts have trouble with the English language. In particular, I have disdain for Tahu FM (coincidentally often Haki’s station of choice). This week we were approaching The Queen’s Garden on the way to school when the female host on said station responded to the male presenter on air by saying, “He was famous for that as well too”. That’s right, “as well too”. This is not, by any means, the worst I have heard; what happened next is my cause for repeating it. Haki complained. Even he was shaking his head and laughing. Tautology / redundant language aside, I also do not care to hear well-paid people use the word “bro” three times in a sentence, call everything they perceive to be good “sweet”, nor do I wish to hear them “holla” to anyone. More than anything, I have truckloads of disdain for the term “gangsta” becoming a compliment.

Harangue, harangue.

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