There is some music I just don't like. For example pop music from the 70's, or say, anything from Elton John. I would just prefer not to listen to it. Not that I claim it's painful to listen to, unlike show tunes. It's not even that show tunes are painful, but it just seems there's always at least one person around who was in theater in high school that insists on singing along. Even when no one is around, there's that lingering dread that some theatre person is going to jump out from behind a shrub and join in "I am the very model of a modern Major-General".
She's got electric boots
So we have established that I do not like 70's music. Which made it very disturbing to find myself humming a 70's tune every morning while taking a shower. Every morning. A different 70's tune. Is this some sort of perverse cosmic punishment that I be selected to channel a 1970's DJ?
A mohair suit
My AM/FM/CD alarm clock was designed by a sadist. This is actually ok, since I believe waking up should be a pain causing event, so much so that I actually try to add to the pain. For example, I set the clock 20 minutes ahead, that way when the alarm goes off, I have to do math. I also set the alarm to wake me with an annoying buzzing sound. I could choose to be woken with music, but the buzzing, that's where the pain is at.
The clock, being designed by a sadist, goes to great lengths to make it difficult to turn the alarm on an off. The mechanism is a small slider the moves between 4 positions. The positions are clearly labelled, but that's just to taunt you, because the slider is located on the side of the clock, where you can't see the labels.
Also note that the two most useful settings are located in the middle, where it is hardest to set the slider. The end points, on and off, are at the ends and are easiest to use, as if the primary funtion of this device were for music. Let's be realistic, I haven't used my alarm clock as my primary stereo system since college.
You know I read it in a magaziiiiine
I was baffled by my ability to channel a 1970's DJ until one day my finger slipped while trying to turn off the alarm and it landed on the "Music" alarm setting and found that the radio was tuned to a 70's Hits station.
This was a clue.
I reset the alarm for minute later and waited.
When it went off I slid the control from Buzz to Off but more slowly than normal.
There it was. Just a snippet of the radio broadcast trailing out behind the alarm buzzer before going silent.
I did it again.
I would have probably experimented more had my wife not glared out from underneath the covers next to me, "What the hell are you doing?"
I opened my mouth, "I....". I looked into those kind, loving eyes and realized that sharing my excitement over my discovery would not go over well. Instead, I opted for the quick exit, "Nothing dear." I padded off into the bathroom.
Bennie and the Jets
So now I had my answer; sliding from Buzz to Off always let a small snippet of the radio slip out, not enough for me to notice consciously but just enough, maybe a half a second or less of music, that my unconscious could figure it out by the time I got in the shower.
This was terribly upsetting. Although I had solved the mystery, it had a far darker implication. In my head, in some dark recess, I am carrying around an entire library of 1970's pop music.