Hello, it’s me. I was wondering if, after all these years, you’d like to … blah blah blah. We’ve all seen this lead in articles about this woman so many times that it’s hard to keep count at this point. That’s why I think we, as a society, need to hear an important message, and I would never have thought that I would be the messenger: we need to move on from Adele.

There are many reasons to utterly detest her music, but chief among them is the fact that it simply isn’t relevant anymore. All she does is wail about her failed relationships, which does not at all befit the time we are living through. Everything is going great right now, and everyone’s so happy, so why does Adele expect us to keep listening to her sad junk? Maybe the middle-aged moms whose heads exploded in 2010 when “Rolling in the Deep” came out can still enjoy the nostalgia, but I don’t see any reason why the rest of us should feel the same.

Even if we take her music out of its cultural context, it still doesn’t nearly warrant the kind of praise that the media gives it. Adele’s lyrics, for example, seem to have just been pulled from better songwriters’ shredded, recycled scraps.

Let’s take a look at this stinker: “It’s about time that I face myself/ All I do is bleed into someone else/ Painting walls with all my secret tears/ Filling rooms with all my hopes and fears.” Someone, anyone, please pass a barf bag. The only thing these lyrics make me want to do is figure out which first grader she pulled out of elementary school to write it. 

And, seriously, she just has the worst voice in the world. I always get so worried when I hear her music because it sounds like my cat is dying in the next room. She births those notes from her mouth with seemingly the same amount of pain as actual childbirth. Our Adele-obsessed world needs to wake up and realize that she is not a goddess on Earth, but merely a 35-year-old woman who screams slightly more on pitch than the rest of us.   

For all those reasons and more, I think it’s clearly time that we give up on Adele. Let’s just throw all her vinyls and CDs into a ditch and forget about them. Finally, I have a special message to anyone who reports seeing me wearing her merch or scream-singing along at her Las Vegas concert: snitches get stitches.