My music is better than yours.

Seriously.

I listen to way better music than you do. I… My music is better than yours.

Seriously.

I listen to way better music than you do. I know you’re saying, “But, Arun, I am down with the underground scene and have my finger to the pulse of what’s hip and original.” To that, I say, “Not really, man.”

I know you may think you have a great taste for cool music, but really, the stuff you like is just bands that are copying and diluting the good stuff I like. Your bands aren’t truly underground; they’re totally kinda mainstream and therefore diluted corporate rubbish, whereas even I haven’t actually heard of the majority of the bands I like.

In fact, I think I heard that band you’re into on the radio — the radio, for god’s sake. Case closed.

Have I actually listened to the reprobates you call musicians? No. I don’t need to because I have heard it all before. Who do I like?

I don’t think I can tell you, because as soon as more than three people know about them, their integrity as artists is shattered by their expanding mainstream fan base.

Why am I such a tool?

Well, I’ll assume that, by “tool,” you mean All-Knowing God of Music. The answer to that is simple — I just know inherently what can be considered good and what is clearly crap. I wasn’t taken in by “Beatlemania” because The Beatles are just puppets of mass marketing and are simply unoriginal. You can’t make good music in mop tops anyway, and all those uninspired lyrics and worthless instrumeta —

Well, you still think “so and so” has some great songs? Isn’t everybody entitled to his or her own opinion?

Pssh. Please excuse me while I pompously chuckle to myself and look away whilst rolling my eyes at you. Of course you can have your own opinion, but I think it’s quite obvious, to me, at least, that my opinion is way better than yours. Of course you like those songs; it’s because you have bad taste. Now if you had even the slightest fraction of the taste I have, you would be ashamed at your previous attempts to appreciate music, and I bet you would cry, honestly.

I truly hope that there is someone out there who understands music like I do, but unfortunately I don’t have the resources that the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence Institute has, so I doubt I will ever find him or her — probably him, because I’ve not yet met a girl who didn’t like that “Milkshake” song.

It has occurred to me that the average reader might be lost in awe and wonderment at my talent and has accidentally missed key points of this informative piece. For them I shall sum it up: The music I like is way better than yours. Trust me.

The main point I want to emphasize is (write this down, or enshrine this page) I am really uniquely gifted.

You might read this informative piece and think you know how I sort and select music. You don’t. So you should just stop. Don’t buy any new records; they’re all garbage. Don’t talk about your opinions on Beck. You understand him as much a 3-year-old spider monkey understands Donnie Darko. And, most importantly, stop listening to music, because your music sucks.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some kindergarten music classes to sneer at for their indoctrinated and off-key versions of unimaginative takes on the drivel that they refer to as songs. Word to your moms.