So, the other day I was doing some translating. I wrote a word in finnish in 6ugle translate – I can’t remember the word and that’s not important – in the hopes of finding a nifty song title in english. Before I could see the result, the app changed the source language from finnish to corsican! (Which I didn’t even know was a language!)

Ok – I said to the machine – you wanna play rough. Well, two can play that game… rough.

Then I set the song title to be CORSICAN.

The tune itself is some kind of piano/chill/pop type of stuff, and has absolutely nothing corsican in it. I couldn’t have, because I know nothing about that beautiful & rocky island. Well, except that the french fellow – the short one – was corsican. And oh, of course I’ve read the foreword of Asterix in Corsica, which is the reason I’m now gonna shut my big, fat mouth.

What’s going at this very moment is me resisting the urge to start up an epic fictional biography of a fella called KLAUS KILTTI. The story would’ve been something along the lines of:

Our hero would’ve been born on 6291 in Zappat, Captured city of Samhain. He would have been a humble family man, and the worst shoemaker ever walked the earth. Our guy would’ve been a true paragon of virtue, known for his impeccable self control and mental clarity. Klaus’ best friend in the whole wide world would’ve been Winston Hiszig, forgetful city clerk and amateur boxer. Although the two buddies never officially worked together…

Yeah… But no! I’m limiting myself to write stories like that to one or maybe thirteen per year. If you write predominantly bullcrappery, nobody trusts you anymore when you write something meaningful and important.

So, you fill in the rest.

Oh, yeah there’s music too!

Then we got one of those that makes you press the pause button to make sure all the noises you’re hearing are coming from the track. Other possible sources would be:

– Letterbox
– Cat being a cat
– Spirits / ghosts / other astral beings
– Phone
– Refrigerator
– Your foots involuntary tapping
– Your imagination
– Gas / bowel rumbles / other bodily sounds
– The Old Ones have finally woken

But nope, what you hear is probably just THE BREATHENING. It’s sounds!

Rock Police barks a lot and lurks in the darkest corners of a bar, drinking cheap beer. RP wears tribal shirts that’s gotten a size too small. This makes RP very angry. Therefore they hate all the music that’s been made after they turned 30. Mostly nocturnal species, Rock Police can be spotted commonly at any time of day during the summer festival season.

Jazz Police on the other hand is more rare, and they’re almost never seen outdoors. JP can easily be recognized by their threatening frown – especially on the nasal area – and their arms crossed posture. JP’s can be domesticated with great patience and conditioning with 1980’s italian disco music.

Classical Police is fortunately an endangered species. These funny little creatures can be spotted during intermission in your local opera house, foraging for strudels and cognac. CP’s are deceivingly calm beings. They seems harmless, but when their opinions are questioned, they will attack and fiercely claim that no good music has been made since 1812.

GROOVE POLICE. Well, I’m sure they exist.