Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition
July 09, 2005
We are in the grips of a dilemma here at RadioSubRosa headquarters. We've run into a wall. This is especially troublesome because, well, we don't have any walls. We dont't even have cubicles. RadioSubRosa exists entirely in dataspace. We leave it up to our readers and listeners to invoke the appropriate Newtonian rag doll physics and Looney Toons sound effects.
Months ago we undertook our latest audio collaboration. Ideas were bandied about, musical tracks chosen, sound bites collected and processed, themes discussed, and many, many beers were consumed. Then something odd happened: we looked at each other and telepathically exclaimed, "Don't do something! Just sit there!"
This approach was so successful that weeks and months flew by with nary a hint of progress. We learned to avoid each other at social events -- I personally haven't seen our ace audio engineer The Safety Wolverine in weeks -- and, when circumstances conspired to bring us face to face, we distracted one another with small talk and protracted bar tab negotiations. Left to our own devices, we could keep this up forever.
Then...
The other night Slack and I met at Junior's Tavern -- a local watering hole with a gravitational field so powerful that doctoral candidates and aspiring musicians alike are simply absorbed into terry cloth rags and wrung out in the morning -- in order to hold some High Level Talks. (Numerous calls to The Safety Wolverine went unanswered and unreturned, likely due to the miracle of Caller ID.)
"Why not," Slack proposed, his pupils rapidly assuming the size and shape of wraparound sunglasses, "kick this out to the world-at-large? Slap it up there, as is, and let the goddamn world mix it."
"That's demon talk, Slack," I replied. "Demon talk."
Join us, citizens. Listen, contribute, and collaborate.
Comments: