THE C-of-C-C ADDICTION CIRCLE.

Melody as Methadone, Nostalgia as Neuromodulator, and Protest-Song-of-the-Day.

Guest Facilitator: Sam Loudermilk (Court-Mandated).

Special Advisor: John St. Evola

“In such ugly times, the only true protest is beauty.”

—Phil Ochs

🎶 Protest-Song-of-the-Day:

Against the noise of the times, the counterpoint is beauty—elegantly stirred into melody without end.

PRIMARY TESTIMONY

Rey Pierre-DeWitt, C-of-C-C Chaos Coordinator

“As our retirement and senescence expert Justin Aldmann likes to say,

We’re not old, we’re Mid-Century Modern.

As we age, too, we find ourselves seeking the simple elegance of melody. We confess to listening to internet stations that repeat a limited number of former hits in their almost pure melodic form. Their beauty can really shine this way. We can experience them closer to their essence.

Melody brings beauty to the chaos that surrounds us now. The repeating and developing patterns of the notes bring a sense of order. As original Latins we love the pure sunlight of Reason that is a precursor of everything being in its place. Reason and order go together. Think a bleached temple in the bright Mediterranean sun. Hail Apollo.

Melody then becomes edifying to whatever contemplative activity we are indulging in. A force multiplier once again.

These pared-down melody versions are also a heuristic for memory. Sometimes we didn’t even know we were familiar with the tune. And then there they are evoking mood and emotion—a very simple magic.

We chose this particular ordered placement of rhythm and pitch because of the mid-century modern picture which accompanied the link. Think the aesthetic of the Jetsons.

So sit back and relax with your favorite small dose of alcoholic beverage of the day or maybe an aesthetically pleasing jigsaw puzzle to solve and join our protest.

God, I love this part of my job!”

SIDEBAR COMMENTARY

Mrs. Begonia Contretemps (European Correspondent, NVZ Spokeswoman):

Music today sounds like a migraine in gym shoes. I prefer arrangements that accompany a cheese course, not a court date.

Give me a chanson, a bossa nova, or a moderately sentimental showtune. Something you could set a table to—preferably with matching silver.

I find most modern ‘beats’ indistinguishable from construction noise. And I don’t trust any song whose performer wears cargo shorts or refers to himself in third person.

As I always say, style without symmetry is simply assault.”

Justin Aldmann (Retirement & Senescence Correspondent):

“Rey quoted me correctly—I do say we’re Mid-Century Modern. What that means is we’re built to last, but only if properly dusted and not placed near direct sunlight. Melody is my favorite kind of nostalgia: it doesn’t pander. It supports. It’s like a well-designed recliner with lumbar integrity. And when you find a good one like Senza Fine, you don’t just listen—you inhabit it. I personally recommend pairing it with a Werther’s Original and a long sigh.”

Black Cloud (Chief Poetic Justice Warrior):

“I used to write protest songs. Now I hum quietly and let the harmony do the talking. Beauty ain’t escapism—it’s revenge. And melody is the cleanest form of that revenge. It’s a protest march in 3/4 time. When I hear a line that returns to itself like a river bending toward memory, I remember who I am. Melody doesn’t just haunt me—it heals me. I don’t trust any revolution that can’t carry a tune.”

John St. Evola (Special Advisor Emeritus):

“What Rey calls melody, I call metaphysical infrastructure. A well-constructed tune is like a Roman aqueduct—graceful, functional, and indifferent to your feelings. Melody, when it’s right, doesn’t flatter—it forms. That’s why I listen to it like scripture. Senza Fine is an excellent choice. It’s a time loop in silk gloves. I love melody not because it comforts, but because it structures. In a culture of collapse, it’s one of the last things still holding.”

Sam Loudermilk (Court-Mandated Guest Facilitator):

“You people are out of your damn minds. Melody this, melody that. You’re all acting like you can file a good chord progression as a tax deduction. But I’ll say this… I sat alone with Senza Fine on loop and a shot of amaretto I didn’t even mean to drink. For two minutes and thirty-seven seconds, I didn’t hate anything—not even myself. That’s… not nothing. Fine. You win. Melody’s got something.”