Vietnamese Wedding Dinners.

Today, my family and extended family went out and had dinner at this Chinese/Vietnamese resturant. Luckily, we ran into a Vietnamese wedding dinner, complete with their marching band.

WARNING! graphic imagery/strong language/racist comments ahead. Parental discretion is advised.

Let’s get this straight: I don’t like to discriminate against anyone. I’ve been the victim of discrimination, I understand how it feels to be on the recieving end of a racist comment. That being said, Vietnamese wedding dinners fucking sucked. I’d pay a handsome sum of money for anyone who can explain to me how anyone can appreciate random music blasting at over the top volume (We’re all the way across the room from the speakers and I’m still so dizzy right now I can throw up) and call it some sort of “celebration”?

Here’s how the music is being played. They pick a random note on the keyboard. Then they MUST make the next note off key. If they run out of off-key notes, they start repeating one of five random prerecorded sequences over and over again, or play the same note for about 50 times. Okay, repetition is okay, I for one used to love pop music so I have no right to judge the lack of creativity; but I can’t stand the notes going all off-key.

See, whenever you listen to music, even though you might be listening to an unfamiliar piece, you have a sense of where the music is going and can appreciate the next note fitting into place even if you don’t see it coming. Something becomes a master piece if the notes can take you to a full journey of sorts in a single song. Now, Vietnamese music – traditional ones – would take you a few steps somewhere and then hit a sour note and send you spinning, then take you to another direction for a few steps and spin you again.

This kind of crap makes me feel agitated, angry, and plain want to kill something – in fact, all I can think about when I was eating my dinner is how I can take a butcher knife and fucking kill everyone in that wedding and stuff maggot into their open wounds and rape the bride’s ass until somebody can put a stop to this fucking piece of mind raper they call music (you’ve been warned). The level of agitation is right next to Mexican folk music – but at least I’d skip the maggots and ass raping in that case, at least those music have rhythms.

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