Even the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal Was Not This Cruel

Dear World,

I thought we had an agreement, you and I. The agreement clearly states that if I don't inflict my singing voice on you, you don't inflict yours on me, except within very specific parameters (see, for example, American Idol).

Since moving to Brooklyn, I can't help but notice that you've violated the policy on MULTIPLE occasions. Among the most egregious violations is the certainty that on any day that falls on a weekend, at least two people walk by my window wearing headphones and singing at the top of their lungs. World, there is just no call for that. Occasionally their voices are not that bad. But most of the time, they are awful. I would pay good money to have them stopped at the end of the block and critiqued by Simon Cowell. Because World, they deserve it.

I deserve it, too. And I know that. But at the same time, I sing only where I am allowed by international law and by the unwritten social laws prohibiting cruel and unusual punishment. I sing (very occasionally, no more than once a week, which I think you'll agree is acceptable) in the shower. Previously, when I had a car, I would sing inside it, but only with the windows rolled up and only when I was either alone in the car, or with another person who was also singing. I have sung, occasionally, in the presence of my dearest friends (or people who were masquerading as my dearest friends, but hey, we've all been there, am I right, World?).

I did recently sing karaoke with a group of people at a private party. But they made me sing, World. I told them about our agreement, and they forced me to sing anyway. I don't think that counts.

Can we please, please publish a manifesto to the effect that owning an iPod does not make you an entertainer? Nor does it convey any special talent.

Or maybe we just have to educate these people on elementary physics. "Just because you can't hear me doesn't mean that I can't hear you."

Just make it stop, World. Just make it stop.

Yours,
Katy