Why Don't Jukeboxes Offer "None of the Above"? by Neil Shelton

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 On this particular occasion, I hadn't been in a hospital since a much-earlier incident involving an erector set and a Hoover self-propelled vacuum-cleaner, so I felt a particular novice at invalidism. 

My room-mate was precisely the opposite.  This guy seemed to have a malady for every body part that still worked. 

Everything he had either ached, burned or itched.  I learned that he'd been occupying the bed next to mine for going on three years now, and his hopes of leaving it soon didn't appear to be very bright unless he were to die.  I won't upset you with a full listing of all of his ailments, but suffice it to say, you wouldn't wish his condition on your worst enemy.  Just watching the life he had to live filled me with remorse.

That was during my first couple of hours there.

I soon became aware that my hapless companion had only one bright spot left in what anyone would agree was a grim and miserable life, and that was to stay tuned, for every long, grueling minute of every torturous day, 24-7-365, to KWTO's Radio Ranch and its Radio Ranch-hands, 560 on your AM dial.

Night and day nurses came and went from the room doing things to this poor devil that to this day I wouldn't want to repeat or even think about. 

I, on the other hand, was there to have a teeny little hole cut in my otherwise near-perfect physical form, an itsy-bitsy little TV camera inserted, and very insignificant microsurgery performed.

Was I, by speaking up, going to take away the only thing this miserable wretch had to live for, just because that thing happened to be threatening to turn my brain into mush?

I was not. 

So it was that I spent four long days and three absolutely horrific nights listening to 40's-style cowboy music.  Gene Autry, Porter Waggoner, Cowboy Copas, I heard them all, and I heard them all over... and over... and over again.

Let's see now, where was I.  Oh yeah, yesterday.  Anyway, shortly after I switched off the radio, I pulled into the tire shop to get one of my tractor tires repaired.

I guess the guys busting beads and fixing flats could have been discussing Kierkegaard or Proust, but on this particular occasion they weren't.  They were listening to 60's rock and roll.

Let me make an admission here.  I grew up in the 60's.  I used to love this stuff, at least for the first thirty years or so, but isn't it maybe time to move on?  I keep wondering if my son's generation is going to be listening to Eminem in the year 2050 and if so, will I be lucky enough to die first?

When I stopped by the grocery store, speakers were pumping out elevator music.  I recognized the tune: Satisfaction.  The down-and-dirty, wouldn't-want-your-daughter-to-marry-one Rolling Stones have been reduced to Musak and what's left is following you everywhere.

And speaking of the past, I stopped to think of how many private parties I’ve been to where some old geezers jumped up, grabbed guitars and other noise implements, and started wheezing their way through yet another rendition of “Proud Mary”.

Okay maybe you see where I’m coming from.  I’m not saying that music is bad… necessarily, but what if every now and then, everyone just shut up and listened to themselves think for a while?

What wonders might mankind create if more of our environment were quiet enough to encourage deep thought?  Would we really quit consuming so much if the stores didn’t pump mindless little ditties into our brains day and night?  And what about the music?  Doesn’t it do something harmful to your psyche when you hear those old songs that used to stand for new ideas and youthful rebellion being used to hawk nasal congestion sprays?  Is NOTHING sacred?

That’s why I’ve devised a plan to begin to take back the air around us.  It’s just one product, one small step for mankind if you will, but it launches us in the right direction, and soon you’ll be able to see one in every pizza parlor in America.  It’s a juke box with an additional choice, a new touch never offered before. 

You drop in a quarter, and for four minutes, it’s absolutely silent.

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