Daughtry: "Life After You"

Oh man, is this song great. This song is so good I can’t even talk about it. So let’s instead talk about the UPS Warehouse at 1500 S Jefferson St in Chicago, IL, where I sat listening to this song last night, and more importantly let’s talk about the entire staff of said warehouse, who are hate-filled people with sad little suicides in their eyes and who bandy their ownership of your shit over we hapless victims’ heads like so much synthesized strings in this awesome new Daughtry song. They feed off our confusion and disappointment, relishing rebukes like, “It could take up to two hours for your package to arrive,” or, “That didn’t come off the truck, I don’t know what happened,” or, “You need a form first,” or, “I can’t do that because I hate you,” all said while never making eye contact, staring instead at some computer screen that—honestly?—probably doesn’t have anything relevant on it, just like rape porn or something. This “fuck-you,-customer” mentality is so breathtakingly pervasive at the UPS warehouse at 1500 S Jefferson St in Chicago Illinois that it certainly must run up to the very highest reaches of the corporate ladder, like the warehouse manager himself sits around drinking raccoon piss because he hates himself and life so much, and somebody comes in and is like, “Gary? Your wife is dead,” and his response isn’t even a shrug, just another big drink of raccoon piss because who gives a shit.

Still, it’s like Daughtry says in this cool song, I know “there’s still life after you,” UPS warehouse at 1500 S Jefferson St in Chicago, IL. For me, at least. I’ve got my new speaker, and it sounds great, particularly when playing this new Daughtry song. I’m moving on from the experience, like Daughtry in his new song. But all the complete fucking jerks that work at the UPS warehouse at 1500 S Jefferson St in Chicago Illinois have to wake up again day after day, today tomorrow and the next and so many more stretching until that blithe vanishing point against the unfeeling horizon, and must wake up again and again to that stillborn hell they call a life, that dirty and blank warehouse where human souls accumulate in dead reeking black piles like so many cigarette butts in an ashtray. Also Daughtry’s vocals sound very powerful and evocative.