Jonas Valanciunas sat in front of his glowing TV in the otherwise darkened studio apartment. Arrayed on the table in front of him were a myriad of snack items: cheez doodlez, nacho chips with assorted dips, and an untouched assortment of traditional Lithuanian baked goods courtesy of his mother.
The only evidence that they had ever been noticed was the faint sprinkling of cheese dust on Jonas’ beard. They lay forgotten, as Jonas stared disbelievingly at the screen.
“I can’t believe it…” he began, before resuming his wide-eyed glare. Suddenly, he snatched the half-consumed can of Old Milwaukee nestled between his legs and started chugging. This didn’t have the desired calming effect. Rather, his face became even more angry.
“How could they gave all those Grammys to Macklemore? I can maybe understand Best Rap Song for ‘Thrift Shop’. Fine. That’s a good song. I like that song. Good beat. But Best Album for ‘The Heist’? Give me a frickin’ break! Half that album is filler! Another blatant cash in on the unquestioning public! Those hacks at the Grammys wouldn’t know good flow if it hit them in the balls!”
He got up from his ratty couch and started pacing the room.
“Kendrick was robbed! Robbed of what is rightfully his! ‘Good Kid, M.A.A.D City’ is a modern classic, one of the culminating achievements of the genre! How an album that compares favorably to both ‘Illmatic’ and ‘The Chronic’ gets snubbed of Best Rap Album defies explanation! It’s lunacy! Sheer lunacy!”
He walked over to his sound system, and put M.A.A.D on for the fifth time that day. The sound which came out of his premium audiophile equipment had a sedative effect. Leaning back into his couch, he savored the opener ‘Sherane’.
“Who cares what they think, anyway?” He muttered to himself. “I’ll always have this album, this masterpiece. And no one can take it away from me.”