I hate whistlers.
If you are a whistler, I hate you.
All that mirth and nonchalant attitude, set to a poor attempt at a melodic tone makes me sick.
To the high whistler, which sounds more like a respiratory issue than tune, I say no more. To the extra loud whistler, who believes indoor settings suit their pathetic talent best, I demand silence. To the morons who have convinced themselves they are actually masters of instrument, I say get a life ... your "skill set" isn't even offered in band camp. Stop this assault on the ear drums of America.
I hate things that can even be confused for this pandemic putrid of pierced punim. Take "Whistler's Mother," hate it!
There are societies and appreciation groups for whistlers on Facebook. Why do we provide credence? I would view Mark Zuckerberg as the greatest leader of our time if his sole accomplishment moving forward is shutting this farce down.
I was in a meeting recently with a CEO of company you all know who was looking to employ my services. (Usually that would give him a leg up.) Turns out he starts his weekly meetings with a whistle in unison of their company theme song with the rest of the lemming-like C-Suites.
Needless to say I pucker for no one. My Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah was not on display this afternoon, but my loud sarcastic laughter was. OK, there are more important things than money ... just can't think of any right now.
So to recap, to all whistlers, stop. No one thinks your talented or interesting.
Do something impressive with your life. How about yodeling?
CEO/The Big STIR
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