Push the damned button

So I was driving a rented car and had about an hour to get where I was going. My usual  approach  to pass the time  is to listen to a podcast on some improving topic like a revolutionary new pruning technique or new dance step but my extra clever smart phone was low on juice and I had to save it for work. Now as some of you know, this presents a dilemma for me because this means I could have been left alone with my thoughts for over an hour. And in general I'm not someone I like to spend a lot of time alone with.  It's nothing personal - well I guess it is personal - but it's just that sometimes the conversations I have with myself get a bit bogged down  - it's a little like going on an LSD trip without the lysergic acid or the chaperone....I suppose the mot juste would be "weird".  So anyway I was eyeing myself in the mirror to see what I would say next when I remembered that cars had those old fashioned radio thingies in them. And if you pressed the button they would play songs and rants and try to sell you stuff. So hallelujah! I was saved. I wouldn't have to listen to myself drone, instead I could listen to someone else do it for me which I find more interesting because when I drone I almost always know what I'm going to say next.

So I whipped out onto the freeway and pressed the button. Out came static with a voice that sounded like it was coming all the way from Mars (The deep south of Mars) and then some strange staticky caterwauling by some Martian chick. So I pushed the button again and out came a religious program talking about getting Power from Jesus (my these green energy people are resourceful!) So I ixnayed on the Esusjay and on came National Public Radio so naturally I punched the button lickety split: more staticky Martians. Again: Jesus. Again: NPR. Martians. Jesus. NPR. Martians, Jesus, NPR. Now I am sorry but I don't like southern Martian music and I sure as hell am not going to listen to some self righteous scold preach at me about the end of the world and tell me to repent. On the other hand I would have listened to the Jesus program but it was Baptist and I'm Presbyterian and we have strict rules about listening to people who deliberately add syllables to their words (yay-yess and so on).

So once again I saw myself looming in the mirror and was about to panic when I realized that the radio thingy had two buttons - one for the Band (which I naturally thought meant rock band) and one for the Station which I guess is the one that has the songs. With more relief than you could know unless you've spent a lot if time with me I pushed the Station button and out came Classic Rock 105.7 The Drone. Gratefully I pulled over to the side of the road and thanked (the non-Baptist, non extra-syllabic) God for saving me from myself. I also thanked the Gods of NPR but since I've never been quite sure who they are I thanked 'em all: Moloch, Gaia, Isis (no not the hackemoffs, the Egyptian Chick from way back - who do you think I am?), Cthulu, Zul, the Stay Puft Pastry Monster you name it.

Because I ain't  takin' no chances getting stuck alone with me.

Nosireebob.