I was in the middle of dinner at a sort of cheesie, corporatie restaurant, and being after Thanksgiving and all they started playing Kenny G's Christmas album, quite possibly one of the most tasteless albums ever made. I'd much rather listen to Seven-Thousand Dying Rat's masterpiece album "The Sound of No Hands Clapping." In fact I had to get up from my seat and run to the restroom to let out an explosion of disgust for that dentist-office soprano saxophone. Right when I finished wiping my ass from all the moist splatter that Mr. G had inspired the next horrible track came on causing me to sit back down for the violent round 2. It's the perfect storm, the combination of two of the worst musical genres in existence: smooth jazz and christmas songs. I think I lost a few pounds at dinner that night; thank you, Kenny G, for inspiring me.