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Chaka Khan

Today, as we drove back home from the Museum of Science via I-93, I looked up from the road, for a moment, to see one of the digital billboards next to the interstate shift from an Arby’s ad to reading:

CHAKA KHAN!

That was it. The exclamation point was theirs. No mention of tour dates or concert venues, just two blazing words, yellow on electric blue, screaming out to Greater Boston:

CHAKA KHAN!

I like to think that somewhere, in a windowless office many miles away, pounding on the keyboard that kept the numberless commercials shifting across the LEDscape, a nameless operator was shaking his booty hard, his earbuds carrying the music as an artery carries blood, mouthing the words as boogied “I feel for you/Think I looooove you…”

His groove escaped him, leaping the operations control and broadcasting out across the city.