Last Saturday I drove to London (Ontario) at the mercy of radio as my only means of entertainment. Once you get a good distance from Toronto your choices become extremely limited and somewhat dodgy, and I found myself hitting the search buttons on the radio tuner almost every 30 seconds, hoping desperately for some consistent programming that could help prevent highway hypnosis.
I forgot about the radio for a few minutes when I had to do some tricky lane changing. When I was all sorted out I heard a station identification for the frequency I was on. They said their programming was family friendly, from their music selections to their between-song banter, and you could listen to them with confidence they would never, ever let you hear anything remotely objectionable.
Deeply offended by this, I immediately hit the search button again and landed on a station playing “Anarchy in the UK” by the Sex Pistols. I cranked it, singing at the top of my lungs, drumming madly on the steering wheel, neither family friendly nor socially acceptable but delighted to the core.