A woman always wanted an expensive car - a status symbol to drive around
and  be seen in. She scrimps and saves, goes to the BMW dealer, and plops
down several years income for a brand new state-of-the-art, computer
enhanced, kick-ass, dream mobile.

While she's driving off, she decides she wants some music and searches for
the radio. The dashboard looks like a control panel at NASA. She fiddles
with this button, that gizmo, jiggles these and those, but finally gives
up. Can't find the damned thing.

Furious, she races back to the dealership and screams at the salesman.
Tells him they forgot to install the radio.

He assures her it's right there in front of her. It's hooked into the
onboard computer. All she has to do is tell it what she wants. 

He demonstrates: "Classical," he says. "Click", the car fills with the
sounds of Paganini.

"Blues," she says, and "click" a B.B. King classic plays.

She drives off amazed. "Country," she says, and "click" a Garth Brooks
tune comes on.

"Folk" and "click" Joan Baez sings about the night they drove ol' Dixie
down.

"New Age" and "click" Yanni at the Acropolis snaps on.

She's so captivated by this new toy that she isn't paying much attention
to the road.   Another driver runs a light and cuts her off.

"ASSHOLE!!!"  she screams.

"click"

"Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States."