A few weeks back, I bought a bunch of CD changer magazines from a thrift shop with the idea that I might be able to sell them online. One of them was full, but I couldn’t figure out how to open it to see what was inside. Written in Sharpie on the magazine was: “Megan’s Hands Off.” A passionate music lover, no doubt, I thought, there must be something good inside.

I could not have been more wrong. I don’t know who would be bold enough to lay claim to the dross inside this thing. The only good disc was the second half of Elton John’s Greatest Hits dual CD set. Then, there was a live Rod Stewart album, and three Christmas CDs, including one by Anne Murray.

I shouldn’t have expected anything more from that particular store in this fucking hick town, and I don’t know why I did. Actually, that’s not true. I know why I did. It was because of that admonishment written on the label: “Megan’s Hands Off.” Who would be so protective of such shit music?

And why? Why would I have to buy a CD magazine someone decided to retire at Christmastime? And why had Megan let her guard down when it came time to donate her precious magazine?

I suppose, if you think about it, the odds of retiring an electronic device like a CD changer would increase at Christmastime when people upgrade and replace their older devices. Or, maybe Megan died at Christmastime, and her family is only now getting around to cleaning out her shit.

Whatever the case, now I have five CDs and no CD player. Not that I would have listened to these anyway. Let’s hope I can sell the magazines.