I had a dentist appointment today.
I got there early, and the office building is next to a mall, so I decided to do a little shopping.
I walked into Tower Records, that hall of all that is Pop, and even a few things that aren't. Sadly, my purchases were probably all too prosaic, but even I occasionally fall prey to supporting the vile monster that is the recording industry.
I bought two CDs (David Bowie's Let's Dance and Crystal Method's Tweekend, in case anyone cares). Happy with my purchases and anticipating the wonderful music that would carol me home from the dentist, I left the store. It was only a few steps outside that I encountered the morass of corruption that I am about to describe to you.
Pausing at a trash can, I decided to unwrap my purchases, for easier loading into the CD player on the way home. This is when I encountered the Beast.
I have run afoul of CD packaging before, but today, something broke inside me. When I was confronted with that smooth, unbreakable plastic wrap, offering my fingers no purchase to find an entry into the musical wonder within, I groaned. Searching vainly for the traditional plastic pull-tab, I gnashed my teeth. And, once I had finally breached the virgin packaging of those disc-shaped jewels, believing I was only a moment away from unmasking their glorious beauty, I found the second trap.
Oh, the horror of it all! The impervious sticky plastic, which would only give way in small pieces that inevitably stuck to my fingertips, blunting them against any further assault against that insidious barrier! The frustration of sliding my fingernails against the edges of that tacky wall - as formidable a barrier as the Wall of China - only to skip past it with a spine tingling clicking sound! The tears I wept as I despaired of ever reaching my prize, the sweet tinglings of hope crushed, over and over!
I say to you now, this has got to stop. Not content with forcing us to purchase their wares over and over in each new format, not satisfied with requiring that we spend twenty dollars to receive the joyous sounds of two golden songs mixed in with an hour of dross, the recording industry also believes that we, as consumers, will accept their horrific packaging policies.
Perhaps they fear that if we could access the glorious sounds more easily, we would lose sight of their inestimable value. Perhaps, like our parents' refusal to advance us two months of allowance, they only wish us to learn the worth of what we have. Whatever their reasons, they are not good enough, and the time is now to stand up and say to them, "We will not be oppressed any longer!" We must, oh my brothers and sisters, deliver a message unto the recording industry that will shake the very foundations of their world! We must demand easy access to the fantastical sounds we are entitled to hear for our purchase! We must demand the presence of pull-tabs on every plastic wrapper, and the complete annihilation of the Sticky Tab of Death!
My friends, the only thing we have to lose by standing by and doing nothing in the face of all this tragedy is our freedoms. If we allow this to go on, who is to say what inhuman packaging they will come up with next? Soon, perhaps, it will be impossible to open a CD without a special "CD-opener" - already such things can be bought at stores which sell knick-knacks. Do you want CDs to go the way of canned food, available only to those priviledged few with the means to open them, regardless of whether you have paid for the right to enjoy their bounty? No, we must act now, before it is too late! We can only succeed, for when the recording industry learns that we will not buy their excessively packaged goods, they will have no choice but to hear us!