The blare of pop music careens from the television.
It’s New Year’s Eve.
Once again I lounge in the living room with my family,
as we endure the “music” of the year—
an agony of sound, lyrics repeated over and over—
while the singer barely mouths the words into a microphone.

The screen cuts to a shot of the crowd, and somehow,
the image of the deluded masses who seem to enjoy this torment
is worse than the song itself.

The song returns in full force,
and I change my mind:
This is much worse.
The long labor of the sound engineer
is lost in the fame of the singer
who only pretends to sing.

I wince and grab noise-cancelling headphones.
I plug them in and start my music.
The raw force of heavy-metal consumes me.

My resolution:

stop listening to the radio.