We went to the beach today, and as we were leaving, we passed by some schmuck that, instead of bringing his iPod and some headphones like a normal person, had brought his radio to the beach and inflicted it on everyone in a fifty yard radius.
Now I like music (I would even go so far as to say I love music), and in certain cases, I wouldn't mind listening to what he was playing.
I understand that some people like to bring their entire house to the beach, and I have no problem with that. Bring your fold up chairs, your umbrellas, your coolers and cookers, and even your volleyball net. Put down blankets so you don't have to get sand up your shorts. That's fine.
But when you lack the capacity to empathize with the two hundred people around you, and cannot fathom that maybe, just maybe, they would prefer to hear the sound of the waves crashing against the shore as their kids shout about seashells and sand castles, and their wives say, "This is such a great day," then don't be surprised when I tell you that we all secretly despise you.
We turn to our wives and reply, "Sorry, that jackoff brought his radio to the beach. What did you say?"