Messing up my Spotify algorithm.
My brother in law once stayed with us for a week. He’s gay. *considers* I only mention his sexuality because… well… maybe its not pertinent… but saying he’s gay is easier than getting into a long convoluted roundabout paragraph about why his taste in movies is so radically different from mine.
Wait? Are you saying Gay men can’t like great cinema.
Um… *looks around nervously* I just meant… you know… atypically…
OH, so all Gay men like Gilmore Girls and Love Actually…
Jesus Jo, THIS is the problem… this pigeon hole thinking…
Wait… what? No, I’m… eh… super progressive. I just… eh… use stereotypes because… I… um… you know. I love Gay people.
Why don’t you just say, he likes Dawsons Creek and that series where that American Chick goes to Paris.
Emily in Paris?
Thats the one.
She’s Phil Collins daughter.
Sufficed to say since he was using my Netflix profile, my ‘suggestions’ is now completely and utterly fucked. I don’t really mind. Being a curmudgeon that hates almost everything that modernity has produced means I hardly ever watch anything on television anymore. Also, the internet has completely and utterly addled my mind, so if its longer than three minutes… *laughs* I’ll probably have to ask my wife to get back on top so I can take a breather.
If you took a week to mess up my Spotify account though… I don’t think we could be friends anymore. In fact, chances are high that, in the near future, you’d find yourself walking into a room where Joey has taken the time to lay down a large sheet of plastic.
No one knows me better than Spotify.
Except Google. And maybe Pornhub.
I listen to Spotify pretty much all day though… those other algorithms are just passing fancies. They mean nothing to me!
Will you look at that frown line! I need to start moisturizing.
In any event. Thou shalt not touch Joeys Spotify is likely canonical rule number #1.