The creativeness and ingenuity of mankind is astonishing. Truly, it is. I myself am not a creative individual, but thankfully many before me have been and they have all invented things that make my life substantially better than it would have been without them.
My bud Thomas Edison is pretty rad. I like electricity, I have no beefs with it. Whoever invented cheesecake is a hero in my books. My cell phone? Is attached to me 24/7, I couldn’t live without it.
I’ve never invented a single thing. I’ve come up with ingenious ways of making things work for me (ask me about that time when my car door froze OPEN and I had to try and drive like that……it was a standard car too, so I needed both arms, one for steering, one for shifting. Oh, that was fun), but so far as coming up with something new? Not my thing. Even making a new template for a spreadsheet is very daunting to me. What if there’s a better way to do this? What if I’m not doing it right? What if I should have it flipped around? Gah! Ah! Bah! Why isn’t there a template for this already, dammit?!
I know I shouldn’t invent things. Mostly cuz I can’t, but also cuz whatever I’d invent would only probably suck. I stay out of that game.
Some people though? They didn’t stay out of the game. They jumped in headfirst without abandon. And frankly, they shouldn’t have.
Let me introduce you to two gentlemen: Daisuke Inoue and Roberto del Rosario.
Don’t know who they are? Neither did I until about 10 minutes ago.
You see, 10 minutes ago, I snapped. I declared war on the person who was responsible for the invention of machine currently making my life miserable. Normally, that’s Bill Gates (fuck you Bill! Have you ever even TRIED to use one of your piece of shit operating systems? Ugh! Ugh I say!), but today it is an honour shared by Mr. Inoue and Mr. Rosario. I looked them up and have now declared war on them!
I have been listening, for 5 hours and 53 minutes, to my increasingly drunk upstairs neighbours and their increasingly drunk friends sing karaoke.
I can hear every word. I can hear every synthetic beat. I can hear the off key screeches, the stumbled words, the off-beat singing, the faked emotions, I can almost see in my head their bending knees and raised eyebrows while they reach towards the screen showing them their lyrics, as they try to convey how deeply this 1983 love ballad touches them.
So what do those two guys have to do with my upstairs neighbours? Mr. Inoue apparently invented the karaoke machine back in the day in Japan. We all know it as a Japanese invention, right? Right. BUT, Mr. Inoue forgot to patent it. Whoops. So in swooped Mr. Rosario, with his totally stolen idea, but with the brilliance to stand in line at the patent office and fill out the paperwork. He’s from the Philippines apparently. So are my upstairs neighbours. Maybe they’re paying homage to him instead of baby Jesus tonight, who knows.
All I know is that this invention should never have been made. Or at the very least, not allowed out of bars/pubs/clubs/strange Tokyo hotels.
They are currently butchering Aerosmith. Aerosmith! Don’t fuck with that stuff! That stuff is GOLD, oh please, leave my poor Steven Tyler alone, I beg of you! Earlier, they destroyed Hotel California by the Eagles AND Hey Jude by the Beatles. Horrific. Blasphemy. Projectile Vomit-Inducing.
Who thought it would be a good idea to package these machines up and make them available to people so they could rock out in their living rooms when they wanted?? Was turning up MTV and bouncing around like a fool not good enough? Singing in the showering just wasn’t working for a lot of people? I know who. Mr. Inoue and Mr. Rosario. Well boys, welcome to the TOP of my shit list. You invented karaoke. Prepare to die.
And why can’t they turn it DOWN???? They’ve been singing for 6 hours!!! Hasn’t it gotten old yet? Haven’t they run out of songs? Booze? Enthusiasm? Will to live?? Doesn’t that fucking machine come with a self destruct setting? Shouldn’t it know to implode on itself if it’s been in use for too long? It should know that the neighbours are about to snap and the singers themselves should give it a bloody rest and it should just sacrifice itself in order to prevent me from going all homicidal. Where’s THAT invention?? Huh?!?
They are damn lucky it’s Christmas. It’s the only reason I’m not up there right now threatening them with violence and cursing their electrical sockets!
I require alcohol. Stat. If I can get drunk enough, I won’t mind the castrated cats singing above me. Or, if I do still mind, I won’t be able to stumble up the stairs to go yell at/decapitate them.
Where’s my Baileys??!?!
Next on the stupid invention list? Those fucking shoes for kids with the wheels in the heel. Srsly.