Letter To Singaporean Gods.
Dearly beloved/revered Higher Powers of Singapore,
I am writing to you today with the highly determined motive of getting you to remove, or at least tweak a little of, the jingles you play on my train rides. I sincerely hope that you go through this document at least once and not ball it up and give it a new (albeit cosy) home, The Waste Paper Bin Residence. If my insignificant words have managed to stir some sort of deep emotion within you, then please consider them truly, from the heart, for I have little time to write multiple letters.
Firstly, I would like to commend your efforts. As some nitpicking hag (presumably with rollers in her hair), or even, perhaps, another fourteen-year-old with a similar superiority complex (and a penchant for red/black knick-knacks), seems to have written to you about the discomforting physical closeness of typical Singaporean train rides, you, Higher Power, must have mulled over this for a long time and decided to approach the matter with tact. Following this you applied the Theory of Broadway, Kinship and Strife for Uniqueness to produce a set of four (I have heard four. If there are more, you are spared the gracious courtesy of having my ears sample more) little songs for commuters to enjoy. Perhaps you should have chosen better trains, or commuters? The problem, of course, has nothing to do with your songs. They are perfect, thrilling harmonies that remind Singaporeans, striking a golden chord somewhere deep within their enamels, to make space for more passengers. However, unlike the guilt-inducing stickers pasted carefully above the priority seats, the songs seem to have no effect.
This was when I hypothesised that maybe - just maybe - it was the songs that were a little off. Why the theatricality? The Dim Sum Dollies, though endearing, local lovables, do end up sounding highly irritating after you have heard them about fifty-seven billion times. Or perhaps it has something to do with the volume - sometimes, as a commuter has woven him/herself into a false cocoon made of low crowd murmurings, discreet squeaks, and trainesque chug-chugging noises, THE JINGLES COME ON. The commuter abruptly raises his/her head, winces, and then pretends nothing has happened. However, scientists have checked, and the jingles are possible causes for early deafness even in the younger generation, increased heart-attack rates of the elderly, and government property destruction by well-meaning young adults. Even though the scienti
I am writing to you today with the highly determined motive of getting you to remove, or at least tweak a little of, the jingles you play on my train rides. I sincerely hope that you go through this document at least once and not ball it up and give it a new (albeit cosy) home, The Waste Paper Bin Residence. If my insignificant words have managed to stir some sort of deep emotion within you, then please consider them truly, from the heart, for I have little time to write multiple letters.
Firstly, I would like to commend your efforts. As some nitpicking hag (presumably with rollers in her hair), or even, perhaps, another fourteen-year-old with a similar superiority complex (and a penchant for red/black knick-knacks), seems to have written to you about the discomforting physical closeness of typical Singaporean train rides, you, Higher Power, must have mulled over this for a long time and decided to approach the matter with tact. Following this you applied the Theory of Broadway, Kinship and Strife for Uniqueness to produce a set of four (I have heard four. If there are more, you are spared the gracious courtesy of having my ears sample more) little songs for commuters to enjoy. Perhaps you should have chosen better trains, or commuters? The problem, of course, has nothing to do with your songs. They are perfect, thrilling harmonies that remind Singaporeans, striking a golden chord somewhere deep within their enamels, to make space for more passengers. However, unlike the guilt-inducing stickers pasted carefully above the priority seats, the songs seem to have no effect.
This was when I hypothesised that maybe - just maybe - it was the songs that were a little off. Why the theatricality? The Dim Sum Dollies, though endearing, local lovables, do end up sounding highly irritating after you have heard them about fifty-seven billion times. Or perhaps it has something to do with the volume - sometimes, as a commuter has woven him/herself into a false cocoon made of low crowd murmurings, discreet squeaks, and trainesque chug-chugging noises, THE JINGLES COME ON. The commuter abruptly raises his/her head, winces, and then pretends nothing has happened. However, scientists have checked, and the jingles are possible causes for early deafness even in the younger generation, increased heart-attack rates of the elderly, and government property destruction by well-meaning young adults. Even though the scienti