Just can't stop the music that's in my pants

                              For the most part, my smartphone and I get along smartly.
                              It takes and receives my phone calls, checks my email, displays my photos and reminds me about appointments, many of which I'd just as soon forget.
                             And I keep learning new things it can do.
                             Recently, for instance, I pressed an icon on the screen that displays text messages I didn't know were there.  Apparently, I was supposed to have met my wife for dinner somewhere on April 11.
                             But now I've discovered a whole new feature or my smartphone:  It plays music.
                             Whether I want it to or not.
                             This discovery happens the other day when my wife says, "Your pants are making music."
                             "I love it when you talk dirty," I reply.
                             "No, I mean, there"s music coming out of your pants pocket.  You must have made a butt call with your phone."
                             I pull the phone out of my pocket and, sure enough, "Home on the Range" is coming out of its tiny little speaker.
                             So I press the home button to stop it.  It does not stop it.
                             What it does is display a photo of some guy named Cowboy Joe.  I have no idea who Cowboy Joe is, or how he got into my pants, but I definitely want to get rid of him.
                             "Just turn off the phone," my wife suggests.
                             I turn off the phone.  But not Cowboy Joe.  He keeps singing about deer and antelope playing.  I turn the phone back on, which makes Joe sing even louder.
                             At this point, I do what I always do when faced with electronic devices that have multiple buttons.  I start pressing all of them.  None of them stop the music, but one of the buttons connects me with Siri, who asks how she can help me.
                             "How can I get rid of this music," I shout.
                             I have to shout to be heard over Cowboy Joe's warbling about the skies not being cloudy all day.
                             "I'm sorry," Siri says, "I didn't get that."
                             While this conversation takes place, my wife is on her tablet searching for instructions.
                             "Stop the music," I shout again.
                             "I'm sorry, I didn't .................."
                             "I said stop the music, you stupid twit," I yell.
                             "Did you just call me a twit?" my wife yells.
                             "Not you, her."
                             "Well, don't call her names, either."
                             Finally, my wife finds a site that informs us there's no "off button for whatever started the music, only a pause button.
                             Which means we have not necessarily heard the last of Cowboy Joe.
                              But if he ever starts singing in my pants again, the words Cowboy Joe hears are going to be a lot worse than discouraging.