Okay. You've driven for three days straight. Over land. Down dusty trails that haven't been traveled since the gold rush days - at least, not in both directions anyway. You're at least a hundred miles from the nearest populated town. Maybe a few less from the nearest highway. Water? Fuggitabout it. Food? That's what you're being viewed as. Cell service? (bring a Satcom?) Mmm hmm. But the view is breathtaking. You pop open that last cold Dos Equis, raise a salute to the vast wilderness, and chug it. You look at your watch. It's time to head back for home. If you were diligent in marking your trail, you will find your way back out and reach the highway by sunset. So you fire up the trusty big block Ford V8 of your Bronco, put the transmission in drive, and then.... Ennccchhh Ennnccchh Ennnccchh Ohhhhhhhh sheeot. Not good, not good. The most horrid, grating sound you could ever imagine. And the bigger problem is... you aren't going anywhere. Make it end! Make it end! Anything! I promise I will be a better person! Make it stop! You cast aside your agnostic reservations and quote Budda, Allah, Jehova, Zeus, Balthazar, Pisces, Libra, Sagittarius, the Pope or whoever might be listening in a frantic assemblage of passive verbiage that could only be interpreted as speaking in tongues by the lucid. Then it finally stops. Well... For those unfamiliar, a major large fitness chain that boasts round the clock access has recently adopted a new, standard music feed in all of its facilities. Now, the music feed they USED to have boasted lots of techno/club/dance mix cardio ready choices, which were generally quite compatible with high energy exertion. You kind of felt like you were in the club with the ladies, well, and you kind of are but instead of buying them drinks in a feeble attempt to lure them back to your batch pad or your hotel room or minivan stripped of the booster seats, you talk to them and pretend to be their workout buddy in an equally feeble attempt to achieve the same ends. Now.... now it is different. Now the music feed occupies a TV. Not just one TV, it occupies approximately every third TV on the exercise floor. And they are special TV's. You can't change the channel. They are hard wired in to the corporate music feed, complete with ads. The ads. Okay, reference the clip above. There is this one ad that they play constantly, every ten minutes on the dot. The Music Run. And the jingle... well, honestly, I'd almost rather be stranded in the desert under imminent demise by starving mountain lion and coyote (I don't know that they have mountain lion in the desert but there certainly are no bears and mountain lions sound menacing) than listening to these god-awful grating, mashing sounds that lead in to semi-intelligible lyrics that make absolutely no rational sense. It's like someone placed a three year old hyped up on donuts and some of mom's mocha in front of the synth keyboard and let him go at it. The first time I ever heard it I thought the CD player was broke. And then, it happened again. Obviously they didn't fix the CD player. The third time it became apparent that a spastic, malfunctioning CD player was not to blame. My god, someone got PAID to produce that abomination? And by the way twenty f... er, rather, unnamed national fitness chain, ALL you play is either modern top 40, or, moldy, slow, '60's and '70's music that even grandma is tired of listening to. People be trying to work out here yo.