FUCK. Not only am I unexpectedly forced to endure the surprise hell of an off-the-approved-spring-and-fall-calendar public-radio fund drive, but IPR just played a snippet of this nightmarish unmusical confection as a stealth-attack fade-out from its forced-jovial banter about the best name for the distinctive holiday color of the mug incentive that nobody on this or any other inhabited planet wants to receive.
So I’m out.
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