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While watching the eight year old’s skating practice today, I heard what had to be the single most bizarrely horrid piece of musick I’ve ever come across:  It was a medley of Christmas tunes (sacred and secular at random) intermixed with the “Macarena”.

Fortunately, nobody around me seemed to be in possession of a screwdriver, because had I seen one I would have felt obligated to puncture my own eardrums.

 The gel, by the way, is taking part in a performance of “The Nutcracker”.  (She’s one of the Arabian dancers this year.)  It’s only early December, but after having watched her practices for a couple weeks  now, I am heartily sick of Tchaikovsky.

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