Music’s place as a military occupational specialty is well-established. Since their first invite to the White House in 1801 by President John Adams, service-specific ensembles like the “President’s Own” United States Marine Band have contributed significantly to some of our nation’s most longstanding traditions.
But at some point in our country’s history, most likely the disco era, our timeline appears to have diverted onto an alternate tangent in which significant investment in military pop, rock, or country bands — looking at you, Max Impact — became an inexplicable priority.
The immensely complex scientific rendering below depicts our likely slip into an alternative reality.
What followed in our new, hellish reality were cringe-inducing performances by uniformed personnel that have been shown to significantly corrupt the microscopic hair follicles in the human ear.
Mere moments of auditory exposure to such sounds can make even the 1985 Bears’ “Super Bowl Shuffle” sound like a 10-year collaboration by Nas, Jay-Z, and Tupac.
They are the musical embodiment of the Steve Buscemi “How do you do, fellow kids?” meme, the Dr. Evil insistence that he is “with it” and “hip” as evidenced by his “duh-ka duh-ka duh-ka” rendition of the Macarena.
And the trend is not relegated to the U.S. military alone.
Shame on all of us who casually dismissed Australia throwing their Akubra military slouch hats into the ear-bleeding ring with “On the Left” by Sisters in Arms, a song that debuted on YouTube to a colossal 40 likes in 48 hours while accumulating nearly 600 thumbs down in the same span.
Much like the nuclear arms race of the Cold War, the exceedingly pertinent race to produce the greatest military-funded musical numbers is upon us.
In “American Psycho,” Patrick Bateman (Christian Bale) says, “I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape.”
If it wasn’t already obvious — in our new reality — that this is also the mission statement of each band, this year’s Fourth of July celebration on the White House lawn removed all doubt. Watch for yourself.
Performances by spun out-looking, animatronic animal bands at abandoned, asbestos-filled Chuck E. Cheeses have elicited a livelier response.
If you or a Chuck E. Cheese-exposed loved one was diagnosed with Mesothelioma you may be entitled to financial compensation.
Someone must get to the bottom of why this is included in the Defense Department’s spending budget. In no way does this contribute to DoD’s Sheriff Woody-like list of pull-string catchphrases like “lethality,” “readiness,” and “there’s a snake in my boots” — unless counting the performance’s lethal impact and unspeakable detriments on poor, innocent Bruno Mars.
To those ordered to carry out these performances, blink three times if you are in trouble. If ever there was a time to become a conscientious objector…
We will get to the bottom of this. Until then, take it away, Max Impact.