So I’m at work and I go outside for a smoke. For no reason whatsoever, the chorus to a song I haven’t heard in 15 years (at least) latched on to my frontal lobes and would not let go.
When I die, I’m going to ask God or Buddha or the FSM or whoever what the fuck is up with earworms† because they seem to serve no purpose whatsoever other than to drive up traffic at YouTube and Pandora.
Here’s one urban myth about them [via Kellaris’ website]:
Some people believe that earworms are a manifestation of one’s subconscious attempting to send a message, or perhaps even the voice of God “trying to tell us something.”
Lessee. Switchin’ to Glide … uh … Switch to Astroglide?
*Yes, I have heard the theory that the OCD-prone are also earworm-prone. To which I reply: Shut up before I smash you in the face exactly 123 times.
†That’s right, this man thinks of ways to make annoying assed jingles even more annoying assed.