The aggravated voice seems to be getting, well… more aggravated, if at all possible. You decide to turn the radio back on, so as to have some background music while you argue with a disembodied voice. You flip the dial, and turn on some tunes.
You begin whistling along to “Dust In the Wind”, a tune you’ve always found very whistling-along-able, despite being horribly overplayed. Your whistling is distracted by a groaning.
You cease your whistling, and ask the aggravated disembodied voice what’s wrong.
“I hate hate hate that damned song. And I know me some damned songs. I heard the damned songs of the damned every damned day, dammit,” says the voice. “And that song is still worse.”
You sniff indignantly, and search for another station. You make the sign of the goat and nod your head appreciatively when “Carry On, Wayward Son” begins blasting out of the speakers. This causes the voice to groan even more loudly.
Once again, you pause. You decide to ask the aggravated (and very whiny) what music it likes. Not surprisingly, the voice says “Yanni, Celine Dion, Jessica Simpson, Kenny G… stuff like that.”
You shudder convulsively, and begin twitching uncontrollably. The twitching causes the car to begin weaving from side to side of the road. You begin to wonder if this is safe for your continued existence.
You cease to wonder when the aggravated voice begins to hum something, building until it suddenly breaks into “My Heart Will Go On.” The wondering ceases for the simple reason that you have whipped the steering wheel strongly to the right, sending you into an amazingly large oak tree. Along with the wondering, you have also ceased thinking, breathing, and, for that matter, living.