KaraNOke

As you read this blog, keep in mind: public speaking ranks up there as one of people's top fears, even ahead of dying by two or three spots.
I sat in Applebee's, enjoying the untold pleasures of my triple chocolate meltdown. ALL BY MYSELF and wondering how this dessert was one of the best kept secrets in Phoenix, and in every suburb of these United States. Talk about "eatin' good in your neighborhood." I felt like hanging out on street corners telling passerbys, "Hey, have you tried that triple chocolate meltdown?" I wanted to convert people to its goodness and have them pledge allegiance to only enjoy its splendor for dessert when dining out. But I stray...I was jolted out of my reverie by this sound. This sound...How to describe it? It happens all of the time, I'm sure. In many a casual dining locale, or pizza and 25 cent wing nights where the servers take a little off the top of one's martini to make sure it's up to standard-in front of you, yet behind the bar. Noone can see servers once they step behind the bar, right? It even happens in dark country western bars in which the likes of me feels a little unwelcome and nervous for some reason. As goes for any other "stranger" who dares enter. This phenomenon often goes unregarded until it affects one personally, i.e. disrupting my dessert.
Sounds like:
A cat being bathed
Fingernails on the chalkboard of my soul
My brother talking about his sex life
Hearing I Owe 10,000 in taxes
The smallest, mousy voice amplified by modern technology and thus forced upon myself cloaked in bad phrasing, timing and rhythm, thus causing the song to lose all meaning and enjoyment. Of course from a genre I hate!
Karaoke-or as I like to call it when it goes bad: Karanoke.
Music when it's done well can be quite moving. It can transport one's soul to a magical place. It can soothe, inspire, energize and frankly, make for a good ol' fun time. And for this reason, music should not be left in just anyone's hands-or lungs.Whoever thought, "Hey, it would be so cool if I took a microphone, hooked it up to a jukebox and anyone who wants to become a singer can!" Well, he or she was probably the worst perpetrator of all. Probably singing directly in his friends' ears covering all the easy listening hits from the 70's-80's. I'm sure he personally recorded the lyrics to accompany the songs in his invention in one large volume while in the basement of his mother's house in which he has lived "forever." Literally.

As this one brave or foolish? soul belted out I forget what, I wondered to myself, "Why?" If we as people have so much fear of public speaking, how is it that we are able to sing,badly, for 3-4 minutes continuously? Listening to the taunting jeers of the audience, the only entertainment we were enjoying was some sick primal gladiator type in which we enjoyed watching an innocent person going down. Sitting in my seat, safe, I could only think, "Wow. Sorry for you, but you did it to yourself lady."
These people, Karanokes, are going for glory, just like Russell Crowe. One day slave, next King. That's admirable. But they haven't checked their actual abilities. They haven't asked themselves, "Do I look awesome shirtless?" or "Can I drop-kick a scary looking dude three times my size, cut his head off and feed it to a lion?" No. No such introspection in these cases.
Maybe just one shot-and one dare-too many.