Monday, June 21, 2010

An Open letter to the Rick’s American Café DJ


We think of disc jockeys as trendy audiophiles, who furiously labor over turntables to produce fresh new sounds to enable hip gyration. However, whenever I look at you I can’t help but notice you appear just as I do now: sitting with headphones on, staring at a laptop. I challenge you sir, to prove to me, nay, the American public that you are anything more than a glorified playlist.

Your only task is to create a 4-hour playlist that's only requirement is that the last song is Kenny Roger’s The Gambler. Though, in your defense, the playing of this song is critical to encourage attendees of this basement-of-bad-decisions to "know when to hold 'em," and when to - perhaps - just call it a night. However, though your website claims that you are “always up to beat with the best new tracks,” I don’t think I have ever heard a song at Ricks and thought to myself that “I must get this song onto my iPod immediately.”

Aside from b-day shout-outs, most of which fall on to deaf ears, as the intended recipient either left of is making out with some one in a dark corner, I would have to rank the complexity of your job somewhere between portraying a comatose patient in a play, and operating a rarely frequented tollbooth. Out of respect for the girls and boys that frequent this bar in hopes of "just wanting to dance," we will hence forth refer to you as "DJ Starfish."

Sincerely,

The Starfish Chronicles

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