Country Music in the Back Room. Eff Off.

Okay. So, the radios at the thrift store get SHIT for reception. The only thing that was coming in today was country. A horrible country channel, where every dude was singing about chicks in short jean shorts and did they wanna get with them. And women who I'm guessing at some point must have been wearing short jean shorts, got with a dude, and burned them.

For fack sakes.

I was stuck alone in the big back room with Mount Clothesmore, hanging up groovy things to put in the store. But shit. Country songs that go on and on in terribly predictable ways. Drinking, Trucks, Love, Hate. 

And the effing TWANG. What is UP with teh effing TWANG that every country singer sings with. There is no way in hell all of those singers were born and raised in a place where that TWANG is part of their natural speaking pattern.

Have you ever heard Sting sing? That dude is british. Oh, how about David Gray? Listen to those guys sing. They NEVER have an accent slipping in their sing-song prose.

I live in Canada. There are people who were kids in my town, who would have been exposed to more French accents than anything else... They go off an record country songs, and BOOM. Effing TWANG.

Da Fuck. I'm serious. 

Anyway, by the end of the day being stuck in the back sorting clothing, I was singing along to that shit.

Complete with false Twang.

Bullshit.

Grace.