Case in point: I hate opera. Specifically, I hate hearing soprano opera singers who hit notes so high, they wish I was deaf. It’s shrill, it’s grating, and it makes my ears file a restraining order.

But then, a few days ago, I stumbled upon a soprano opera singer who was rapping. That’s right—doing full-blown hip-hop in her best "singing-to-summon-spirits" voice. As in, to the hip, hip-hop, and you don’t stop the rockin’… but operatic.

And instead of shutting off that unholy fusion of sound and sin, my brain went: 😍🥵

I don’t know why. Something about it awakened a deep, primal urge in me. I was ready to pledge my undying loyalty, buy all her merch, and start an aggressive online campaign defending her against imaginary haters.

Like, goddamn. What’s wrong with me? Why do I suddenly want to start a shrine to a rapping opera diva?

It makes no sense. I am a rational man. Or at least I was a rational man, until that opera rapper opened her mouth and obliterated all logic and reason from my brain like a high note-powered nuke.

The stupid part of my brain has officially staged a coup.

Must. Hear. Rapping. Opera. Woman. Again.

@music@lemmy.world

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[–] essell@lemmy.world 7 points 11 months ago

It makes no sense. I am a rational man. Or at least I was a rational man, until that opera rapper opened her mouth and obliterated all logic and reason from my brain like a high note-powered nuke.

There's your mistake. You believed you're a rational man. But who told you that? I bet it was the rational part of you looking at itself and ignoring the rest of you.

Humans go through life making irrational decisions (in a good way, irrational is not a problem in itself) and the rational part of us claims "I did that and this is why" despite actually having little input in the choice until after the decision was made.

It's the arrogant one in the meeting who says nothing and takes credit afterwards for the parts that worked.