Tee Vee Ear

At The Masters (Technically, on the See Bee Ess coverage thereof): What the fuck-tuck-tucking hell is it w/ the gawd-awful pseudo-funereal piano, strings, muted horns & other noise played underneath the hushed & solemn announcers?

Is the soul (term used loosely) of the country-club belonging, greens fee-paying successful American businessman this numb? Do the sexist, racist crackers at Augusta National insist on it as part of the broadcast deal?

The real question is why we stopped when surfing past. Don't we know any better?