Look up “torture” in a Webster’s unabridged. Definition 1 reads, “the music of R.E.M.” Definition 2 reads, “the music of Pearl Jam.”

OK, that’s not true: Pearl Jam comes first.

All right, that’s not true either. But admit it: R.E.M. and Pearl Jam are sufficiently ghastly that a plausible case can be made for their status as purveyors of torment.

That’s why I’m confused to learn those groups are upset that their “music” was used to break terrorists at Gitmo. The bands believe the practice “turned a jukebox into an instrument of torture,” The Associated Press reported.

Not to get all technical, but exactly when was a jukebox emitting the whiny, nasal lyrics of R.E.M. and the incomprehensible yet self-important noises associated with Pearl Jam not an instrument of torture? Is it any more humane to have to listen to that piffle in a restaurant, at a Groundhog Day party or — gads! — while trapped on public transportation? I thought eardrum abuse was the point of all those albums. Why exempt terrorists from what the rest of us risk just walking through the mall?

Or turning on the television: Traumatized former Gitmo detainees report that other “music” played at them to get them to reveal where the next Little League team or knitting circle would be slaughtered included the unspeakable “Barney” theme song, the petrifying “Sesame Street” melody and, yes, the Meow Mix jingle. (Not sure which Meow Mix jingle: My fave went something like, “We like chicken. We like liver. We like Meow Mix, please deliver ...,” though plain ol’ “Meow meow meow meow. Meow meow meow meow” has cranium-splitting appeal, too.)

I shudder to think what chicken processors may do if they find out the Gitmo ghouls have been fed those mushy potpies in tinfoil. Oh, the humanity!

Soldiers vs. pencil pushers

The Associated Press reports that Michelle Obama told bureaucrats at the Department of Veterans Affairs headquarters, “(I)t’s just important for you to know that the president and I are proud of you, just as proud as we are of the men and women who serve this country, the (veterans) that you serve.”

I’m not.

Set aside, for a moment, questions about the deplorable care some veterans got at VA hospitals. Suppose all vets got top-notch treatment and excellent service from every VA employee with whom they came in contact. That’s not purely supposition, of course: Many VA employees work conscientiously on behalf of veterans, and I commend them.

But VA workers do not routinely risk death and maiming by the Taliban and al-Qaida. There is a reason why civilians stand and applaud when soldiers walk by in bus terminals. There is a reason why families anonymously pick up the tab for uniformed men and women in restaurants. There is a reason why business executives surrender first-class airplane seats to troops seated in coach — and not to federal pencil pushers, nor to car salesmen, nor to geometry teachers.

There are many respectable professions. Some are difficult or unpleasant, but with the possible exception of studio technicians at a Pearl Jam recording session, most are not heroic. There is something unique, however, about those who willingly risk their lives overseas, often with little pay and little recognition of their sacrifices.

Some bureaucrats at VA headquarters serve a valuable, even admirable purpose, but neither they — nor, certainly, the average newspaper columnist — do what U.S. troops do. So I cannot join in the first lady’s equating of their work with that of our troops.

On the plus side, it’s refreshing that Mrs. Obama no longer confines her pride in her country to the moments when it is contemplating electing her husband president. That’s progress, though it would be encouraging to hear her extol more of the private-sector workers who provide the generous pay and benefits enjoyed by the Washington employees who inspire her so.