Dear D-bag,

Just because I kept your station on when I turned on my car because I heard the end of a Moby song does not mean that you have the right to hijack my ears for your rambling pleasure as you awkwardly fumble through an apology for your accidental insulting of Moby. I don’t really even like Moby, he just isn’t bad enough for me to spend time trying to find something better on Maine’s limited radio. You don’t then need to extend your audio-assault to eight minutes of rambling nothingness about how we could be listening to this on our “computers .. of… um… all sorts.”

Ah, your show is called “Pattern Recognition,” I get it, I recognize the pattern: You are annoying me every other word. Please go back to the music. Not that I think your taste in music is great, it’s just better than hearing you try to make up for the fact that you’ve forced yourself down a monologue about technology’s ability to be ever-changing. And now that you are stuck in this ramble-fest of boring diatribes about modernity don’t end it with the phrase: “soon there will be GPS socks.” That’s not funny. Okay, it made me laugh, but that doesn’t mean that it is funny for the reasons you think it’s funny. I thought it was funny because you paused afterward as though your giant studio audience of loneliness would laugh at your supposedly clever quip that you probably heard from a friend at some bar and are now using for the tenth time hoping for the same laughs that came that first time you heard the joke when you and the entire audience was wasted and the creation of the concept was off the cuff. Now your scripted combo of technology and footwear seems stale and your confident delivery only serves to make it more awkward.

Please be done with talking. I’m almost home and you haven’t finished up with your annoying longwindedness. And please don’t go back to talking about Radiohead.

Worst of all, don’t make me feel bad by ending my ride home with a new song that I really like. Now I have to like you. Ugh.

-NG