The Idiots That Give Us Hope


My fingers glided across the radio station buttons, one after another. Six stations, and five commercials. It is something like a conspiracy that radio stations almost all go to commercial at the same moment.

Let’s just band together, one radio station manager may have whispered to another from within his dark colored hoodie. All the other station managers would have made their best efforts to look casual as they strolled into the bar, one by one, and settled down onto the stools in a long line.

One hoodie-clad manager may have passed a crumpled piece of torn paper to another. It read: At forty-five minutes past the hour, every hour—make it happen. Alone we can do so little, together we can do so much. As the note was passed down the line from one shrouded radio manager to the next, slowly the heads began to nod. That old quote about banding together always moves people. And so the conspiracy began.

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I have no idea why I put this picture here. Laziness, perhaps?

But you see, there was one station manager that was always late to secret meetings. Frankly, he was always late to everything. He showed up in his hoodie just five minutes too late, and instead of joining the conspiracy, he just drank a bunch of beer and watched the football game. Now you would think that the one late station manager would be our salvation. But no. Sometimes life is cruel.

The only station that isn’t playing a commercial decides to play The Backstreet Boys!

I tossed the words scornfully in the direction of the radio, but no amount of scorn was going to resolve this conspiracy. To listen to a car salesman in one of those really stupid dramatic voices trying to sell me a new car, or to listen to The Backstreet Boys in those really stupid dramatic voices singing about how much they love me? Decisions, decisions.

I just wanted a little help staying awake. I spent a week recovering from the flu, and then had the flurry of activities that needed catching up on, but no time to enjoy the freakishly warm weather occurring in January. No matter—it may have been rush hour traffic and it may have been only one hour until sunset, but damn it, I was making the short drive to the beach…very sleepily. Because despite my determination, my body had not quite returned to its normal break-neck speed since the flu.

I just want a nap…on the beach, I thought as I shifted my attention back to one of those silly boys telling me I am his fire. I hit the power button on the radio and was greeted by peaceful silence for at least two minutes. Then something interesting happened.

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Completely and utterly irrelevant picture. Still lazy.

There was a strange, echoing booming sound coming from somewhere up ahead. I rolled down my window. Yep, it was shit music being blasted at an absurd level somewhere in the string of cars ahead of me. But it wasn’t The Backstreet Boys, so I rolled the windows all the way down. Now a mystery began to unfold itself. I felt my eyelids perking up as the sleepiness faded away.

Just who was the fool that thought that everyone in my town (depending on how far this individual was traveling down the main thoroughfare) ought to have to suffer through his or her music? Who was the fool that was trashing his or her hearing, so that by age fifty he or she would not have to worry whether or not there is a radio station commercial conspiracy—he or she will be practically deaf.

I craned my neck around to see if I could make a determination, but the sound seemed to be bouncing off the trees next to us, making identifying its origin tricky. I scanned the cars I could see ahead of me.

First, there was a large white van. The sort of van I call a “Homeschooler Van,” because more often than not they are owned by religious fanatics that think having twelve kids is a good idea, and then proceed to homeschool them. Those sort of folks seemed unlikely to be the culprit, but then a big puff of smoke came billowing out of the driver’s window like something from a rap video. Maybe it wasn’t a Homeschooler Van after all.

But, maybe it was the smoke coming from a hand-carved wooden pipe lit by a man with a thick black beard, authoritarian parenting flashing in his eyes along with a bit of fire and brimstone? I couldn’t be sure. But really, who blasts music like that from a van? Nobody. Moving on.

Next up was your standard young person car. I think it was a Kia or something. It seemed a likely culprit. I examined it closer. It was very Plain Jane. Too Plain Jane. People that blast music like that are generally stupid, and it shows because they generally take a Plain Jane vehicle, and spend crap tons of money to make it look fancy with really dumb trimmings and trappings…instead of spending that money on intelligent things, like a more reliable car, or rent in a decent side of town, or electricity.

Anyway, the car was not dressed up. It looked like something that belonged to a nursing student just trying to get home after a long day getting clinical hours at a nursing home. Bed sores. Yikes. They certainly weren’t interested in blasting music. Moving on.

A workman truck? Not likely. A grandma car? Even less likely. And then I caught a flash of pink from a rim, and I knew we had a winner.

Several vehicles up ahead sat a white pick-up truck. On the back window someone had embellished the words “White Brick” in cursive handwriting. Pink and blue and green lights, ever changing color, emblazoned the rims. And from the rolled down, rattling windows came the deafening, teeth grinding, offensive noise.

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Yep, this isn't even a picture from Florida. What can I say? I guess it's time for bed.

I leaned back in my seat and smiled. Damn it, these humans are predictable. I held up my water cup to the windshield in a toast.

There may be radio commercial conspiracies, and The Backstreet Boys might still play 20 years after their vile debut, but as long as there are idiots there will always be entertainment. To you, White Brick.

And I took a long drink as the traffic crawled forward.

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Seems like a decent way to keep the peepers open during the drive...And interesting, but unsurprising, that you also have those idiots who believe everyone needs to listen to their poor choice of music. Happens the world over I think.

I loved your choice of non-related random photos...That first one is something and then that second...Quite something else again, and the third is also something, but not the same something as the other something in the other picture...Or something like that anyway.


How sad that Australians also do this. I guess there are idiots everywhere. But if my title is true, then I suppose there is hope all over the world too.

They are definitely all something. Whether they are something worth looking at is another matter entirely, but something they certainly are.


I think our idiots got their motivation from your idiots, TV shows, movies and music videos. Now our idiots are indistinguishable from your idiots.

Sometimes something, like your photos, are better than nothing and whilst something could be classified as nothing if it is something then it actually is something. So, if you ever feel like posting something make sure it isn't nothing because nothing can't be something unless that something you post is indeed something that people determine is nothing. But really it is something , as it has to be if you've posted it.

I don't know what I just said, by the way...I just woke up..Was dreaming about something but it turned out to be nothing, or something that felt like nothing...Ok, I won't go on...🤣


Oh dear, what a sad business the spread of American idiocy is. I hope the Australians at least add a bit of Australian flair to their "White Brick" trucks.

So I had a dream this morning that was something of a nothing. I was in my parent's back yard with my children, in the city, when a wild boar charged us. I managed to get us in the house and then was forced to hold the door closed against the wild boar, which scratched me, and then I wondered if I would need a rabies shot. I'd say that was definitely something of nothing.

I hope you are feeling better.


Aussies add a little of our own flair in everything we do. Legit.

Cool dream, except for getting scratched. Wild boars can be dangerous though so you're lucky you got away with just a superficial wound. Yes, certainly a dream that was nothing, but felt like something.

I'm ok, back is giving me grief but I shot today...Now I'm on the pain killers like Tic Tacs. :)

I found myself being immensely entertained by your writing about idiots entertaining you on the road. Isn't it fantastic how you can make time pass better when you take a few outside irritants and run with it :D


I'm glad my amusements were also amusing for you. We've just got to find a way to turn society's negatives into positives :)

Loved reading your story @ginnyannette, made me laugh as my mind went to the numerous television stations all having adds at the same time. I can see TV station managers all dressed in expensive black suits sitting at an expensive restaurant all doing the 'let's all run 5 commercials every 10 minutes..................


Ah! I bet those folks do have secret meetings. Like you said, probably at fancy restaurants since TV makes a lot more money. The next time I am visiting one I will keep my eyes peeled. Thanks for reading :)

I was in an office the other day and the music played on the radio was Exactly the same music in the same order that I used to hear when working in a similar office in the 1980s. Radio ain't going to get any better 😉

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Haha, I suppose there is some comfort in things always staying the same...unless we are talking The Backstreet Boys. ;)

Did you get there in time? Did you take a nap on the beach ?

I like the Backstreet Boys ! ha ha

I don't understand the thumpers and the loud rolling party wagons. You can say now it is because I am old, but I didn't understand them when I was young either. I always seem to wonder if they will need hearing aids by 40...LOL !... I wonder what kind of damage they may be doing to their hearts.

They are just having fun though....right? I am not sure of the message they are trying to get across or if there is a message at all. :)


The message is mysterious. Is it, Look how cool I am or I love this music, and I know you are going to love it too or, more likely, Look at what a badass I am by annoying an entire town. Because surely no one actually enjoys deafening themselves.

You are a happy-go-lucky person, and so it makes sense you would like those Backstreets Boys. I love happy-go-lucky people, so I respect that. I still don't like them, but I respect your decision ;)

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What fun you can have on a normal commute to the beach! Did you get to take a nap once you got there?


Sigh, I did not. Too busy watching little kids in a public place. But I did see a lovely sunset glow off the wet sand, so there was that.

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Yeah you can't fall asleep with the kids under your watch. But it still sounds pretty great!