Whenever I am forced to listen to the ridiculous bass-thumping of some dumbass's car stereo, I feel like my head is going to explode. It makes me want to put my window down and scream something derogatory about gangsta rap, but even uttering the words "gangsta rap" makes me sound like the whitest white girl on the planet, so Coolio cruising by with his nine-thousand dollar car stereo would probably just laugh at me.
After suffering in silence for too long, I discovered something that makes me feel better: Revenge. I was stuck in traffic earlier this week in front of Slim Shady in a Ford Fiesta with rims that cost more than the car, blasting what I think was rap music - hard to tell because the bass was rattling the engine so hard I could hear it knocking around under the hood - but I did catch the occasional "bitches" and "hos."
Rather than stand up on the seat with my head and shoulders through the sunroof and attempt to communicate "pardon me, you dim-witted douche..please turn your wannabe ghetto-ass music DOWN" through sign language, I flipped through my CDs until I found Cowboy Mouth "Live at the Zoo 2004." I put it in the CD player, adjusted my bass to low, and cranked up the volume. My factory-installed car stereo that has never been above 9 or 10 kicked ass. I couldn't hear "Down Ass Bitch" anymore, and Slim Shady couldn't either. And since we were stuck in traffic for another 10 minutes, I feel like he gained a new appreciation for what music is supposed to be (as did the other cars around me).
Once again, rock and roll has saved my sanity. Thank you Fred Le Blanc, you crazy f*cker.