And with that, he slyly smiled and with some indignation said in a deep, mellow voice, “I have over 5 gigs of Christmas music.”
I stuttered for a response. Should I say something about how the music revolution had left us all empty with mounds of music where we can sort by bitrate or genre but listen to nothing? Should I congratulate this achievement-5 Gigs. I don’t even know what 5 gigs means, and I am purveyor in the trade of stolen tracks. Bitrates could be high the whole 5 gigs could be the incomplete work of Bing Crosby with pitchy digital fragments.
My apprehension turned to anger. The thought of one person talking about
Christmas Holiday music as if it were a commodity like pork bellies or orange juice. The glad tidings of all those souls tied up on hard disk and held ransom. Who does he think he is?
Eyes bulging, heart pumping, I said, “You have too much damn music, Christmas or whatever.”