Metallica, Day 28: The Home Stretch

Check out my boys from Metallica. Look how cool they are. How fearlessly they command the snakes. Notice the hair, the shades, the attitude. Perfect role models, real men.

Actually I feel like I've had a boa constrictor around my head for the past twenty-something days.

I'm a pretty laid back dude. I usually keep everything optimistic. There's not a whole lot that bothers me. But if I have to hear one more double-bass kick drum solo or another one of The Field's guttural howls, I'm going to to jump through a window and strangle the next woman or child that I see. I feel the frustrations of a thousand Gary Colemans.

Don't get me wrong: there's been plenty of times when tunes like "Carpe Diem Baby" got my motor runnin on the way to work, or times when I'd catch myself humming the chorus to "Low Man's Lyric." I'm not saying that it's altogether bad, but I'm at my wit's end. Here are a few morsels to attempt to give you, the reader, an insight to my April 2008:

1. I haven't had road rage since July 2000. Late last week a gentleman in a Buick Le Sabre cut me off and almost creamed into a young woman in her Mercury Milan. Without thinking, I sped up and got alongside the offender's vehicle and sounded the horn for a full 11 seconds. In hindsight, I would say that my actions were 92% influenced by the fact that "Don't Tread on Me" was playing.


2. My use of racial slurs is up by 4% this month. This follows a nineteen month streak of a consistent decline. I have no explanation for this phenomenon other than my increase in Metallica intake.


3. Due to the clause in our agreement in which we can listen to music that is out of our control, I have found myself out in public more often than I should be -- Just to enjoy music. If anyone needs a list of the restaurants/bars/establishments/ice cream parlors/car washes that have the best music in town, let me know. I can produce a list in a matter of seconds.


4. In addition to #3, I consistently over-react to non-Metallica tunes. For instance, Thursday Kyle and I were in a department store and Seal's "Kissed by a Rose" came on the house music and we were elated; high fives were exchanged. A week or two back I was dancing fervently (in public, by myself) to "I Saw the Sign," as performed by Ace of Base. I can also clearly remember weeping softly to Elton John's "Don't let the Sun Go Down on Me" while enjoying a quesadilla at the neighborhood Applebee's.


5. I am angrier. But it's different than I would have thought. I assume that many people would expect the same kind of anger that I did: the outward, caustic anger that is embodied on Metallica records that is a not-too-subtle backlash against society, upbringing, the common man, and kittens. (Metallica's eighth -- and probably worst -- studio album St. Anger comes to mind. See related video below. barf). Rather, it is bottled anger that weighs on my soul and is like a bowling ball chained to the ankle of my psyche. I'm sure that with enough time on a Metallica-only musical diet, someday I will be in my daily routine, making a phat beat or calling a customer service department to thank them for doing a wonderful job, and suddenly my mind will cleave and a disgusting, alternative personality will emerge, screaming about how I hate tacos and stuffed animals, making crude gestures while dressed like a nun, and with breath reeking of soft pretzels and frozen burritos. This Edward Hyde-esque character will also certainly be Polish.

Almost to the end....