an open letter
Dear everyone else on the subway,
Your headphones suck. So does your taste in music, but that’s not the point. The point is that I shouldn’t know you listen to crap because I am a stranger. But I do know, because your headphones are garbage and in order for you to hear music at your desired audio strength, you have to crank your volume so goddam high that I can hear it on the other side of the goddam train car. Sometimes I can even hear your blasted techno mariachi over my own music.
It’s really bad for your hearing, you know, to listen to your music that loud all the time. Nor is it any good for society — like there isn’t enough grumbling animosity without your subjecting a closely contained cadre of commuters to your autotuned Top-40 and nü metal rubbish.
Here are a few ways you can help make this city a less miserable place to be at rush hour — and maybe save yourself some hearing loss and cred-damage in the process:
Tip 1: Press play and hold the speaker openings of your earbuds together. What you hear emanating from between them is roughly what I hear sitting across the car from you — and it’s why I keep glaring at you.
Tip 2: Steve Jobs isn’t god. Don’t use iPhone headphones. They’re better now? Sure. But still terrible. Upgrade that shit. Stat.
Tip 3: A little isolation goes a long way. You won’t need to turn up your jams so high if you can more effectively cut out background noise. Go for earbuds with some rubberiness to ’em that go a bit into the ear. If you’re really resistant to a new pair, or are a total cheapskate, try something like acoustibuds, which slip over the speaker heads and guide soundwaves more directly into your ear — so you can turn it down, for pete’s sake — and block them from escaping into the earholes of innocent bystanders.
Tip 4: Everyone on this train is judging you by your music. Just keep that in mind. Especially on the L.
When your favorite band — that one you knew since they pressed their first seven inch back in high school — sells out it’s easy to get a little outraged. And it feels entirely justifiable, in a music-snob, self-righteous kind of way. If you’re talking about a TV show, however, one on a mid-tier network that’s already in its sixth season, it’s harder to dignify indignation.
While I can appreciate Coors Light signing on to sponsor FX’s It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, the product placement in last night’s season six premier was jarring. Between the Coors bottles, napkins and napkin holders, images of tapped Rockies were present in every shot from the bar.
Distracting for sure, but at least germane. When Dennis and Dee arrange a meeting with their high school crushes at a Subway, though, it’s just silly. The signage is absurd. And they’re there for breakfast. Breakfast? Even if there was some compelling reason within the show’s script to explain why they’d go to Subway, why the fuck would anyone — let alone two drunks without day jobs — go at breakfast?
Oh, that’s right:
Well, I guess It’s Always Sunny has never been about subtlety. Nor has the advertising world. So maybe it’s a perfect union. I’m sure the characters, our degenerate friends Dee, Dennis, Mac, Charlie and Frank, would sell out in a flash if given the chance.
(Mini review of the season opener: Good. Not amazing, but good. Frank asking the tranny if she had to sell her dick to China? Awesome.)
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution reported this week that Asian-Americans in the city are contesting the Rapid Transit Authority’s decision to rename a train running through the heavily-Asian Doraville neighborhood the Yellow Line.
MARTA officials were warned by an employee before the name change last October that Atlanta’s burgeoning Asian community would find the term for the line to Doraville offensive.
“Historically, it has had a derogatory intent,” said John Park, an attorney with the nonprofit Center for Pan Asian Community Services in Doraville, just down the hill from the Marta station. “It physically paints a very unattractive picture. I don’t consider myself ‘yellow.’”
Park and other Asian activists plan to meet Friday with MARTA CEO Beverly Scott. They hope MARTA will change the line’s name from yellow to gold.
It never fails to amaze how thoroughly stuffed with idiots our country’s bureaucracy is (are you asking for trouble, ya dumb masochists?), but, c’mon, it’s rather silly to get all riled up over the color coding of the subway system. Shit, Atlanta, you still Tomahawk Chop at Braves games. Come to think of it, I used to live on Boston’s Red Line in the middle of a sizable Navajo enclave and no one there had a problem.
Oh! Hold the phones! I get it now. This don’t-call-me-yellow battle cry is a cover up for a different problem, one that changing the line’s name to Gold won’t solve. Why didn’t we see this sooner? MARTA officials, if you’re reading this, the answer is clear: Change the name to the Yerrow Rine.