To call what follows discourse is an insult to the very idea. More likely words laid down while lost and dangerously confused in the Bo-zone. But for all the Bozo's on this bus, the trip may be familiar, kinda "I been there done that". Now Nod and say Hmm.
The Monster 300 watt reciever in our home office has been down for the count for a few months now. A Kenwood from the 70's. Dial tuning, no frills straight up clean power. It certainly does not owe me anything. Dependable service for close to 30 years. Without the engine to drive it, our ancient seldomly updated stereo system has been dead in the water. Silent Giant, so sad, it sits and gathers dust waiting for power to live again. Still for so long, I imagine a tear as it runs down the volume knob and drips onto a haphazard CD. Quiet and desperate, it suffers in silence as I ignore it's presence and wax philosophic about it's former grandeur.
I thought I wouldn't miss that Kenwood and the sounds it cranked. Those late night sessions in the office. Headphones on and groovin while I pounded meaningless drivel into my journal. Volume turned up to wow, the ole Kenwood "Direct Power" driving sweet,sweet music into my head and everything else out.
My karaoke routine falls deaf on my ears. The screeches I call carrying a tune set the cats' hair on end. Puppies scramble and milady frowns. To retaliate, she tells me that to even think of singing, humming or trying to keep a beat in public is pure lunacy on my part. And will not be fogiven as I am not old enough to get away with it yet. Says something about being beat down like a clown. She insists I am the classic old white guy who has lost any clue or hint of the beat. Any beat. All I need is my cap turned to the side, a huge chain with a clock around my neck over the football jersey of my choice to complete the cartoon.
I dunno. Seems a tad harsh in my opinion. When "Zep ll" is makin the hair on the back of my neck stand up, I am in sync. When Tull's "Locomotive Breath" makes my feet shake the desk, I am the beat. And when I get clean with "Ball & Biscuit" by White Stripes, no one can rock out the Blues like I can. Technically I may need some fine tuning, but emotionally, I am the King of all I listen to. A legend in a non-mind with no sense of time.
I was sure having the home sound system down would not be a problem. Afterall, tunes were available in the rest of my life. Listening to silence in the office might just be the ticket in my otherwise rocked out lifestyle. Bring in a much needed dose of reality and common sense quiet. That was the rationalization I used to put off getting the home system up and running again. More the case of being lazy and too lazy to admit it. Inexcusable use of weak and sad reasons to do nothing instead of something, even if it was wrong.
That's okay, I can deal with it. I have mastered the "never do today what you can put off til next week" program and am a licensed neer do well. A card carrying, couch potato hammock lounger. Moments spent in deep and intense nothingness are my specialty. I am so accomplished at zero activity, I will watch the same channel for hours if the remote is out of reach. Jack LaLane re-runs kinda grow on you at dark-thirty on a Thursday. I work hard at spending time horizontal. And I am really good at it.
Today I came into the office and thought I may have been too quick to judgement regarding the importance of stupidly loud music in my life. Frankly I missed it. Hmm. A quandry, a perplexing situation. On the one hand I wanted music and I wanted it now. The obvious labor intensive solution means I have to do it if I want it , and no one is around I can whine to for help. I will have to break my own Non Work credo to make this happen. A rock and a hard place. Just contemplating all the motions, manuveuers, and gyrations needed to make it happen makes me nauseous.
On the other hand, I have not yet satisfied the mandatory 3 month delay before fixing this particular thing requirement of my guild, the LNGMA (Lazy No Good Men of America). As the regional second banana to His Holy Laziness- The Right Slothly Newt Barco, I must never cave to the temptation to set a bad example. Rules are rules. If I am to expect rank and file adherence to our holy edicts, I must follow them myself.
Damn restrictions. I must find another way. I run the LNGMA rule book through what I will charitably call my mind. "Um, er , maybe that exception will work. No, can't use it. That one is only applicable when outside and camping in a group of 8 or more in a co-ed campsite." I continue to file through the rulebook in my brain. Zipping by one of promise, I have to back up. I tell you, kicking the rolodex in my mind into reverse once it's already rolling is no easy task. Bypassing my target 2 more times, I finally zero in and, Voila!
"Yes, this will work." Chapter 3 - "Exceptions to Non Work Edict Commandment #15." Point 3 - 4, subtext 8 states clearly and without doubt insinuates a perfect solution. And I quote. "When faced with an emergency, any LNGMA fellow may break their work fast for up to 10 minutes/emergency. Should said emergency go past alloted time, penance will exacted in the form of specific time penalties carried out under a shade tree. Preferably decidious as coniferous type foliage will tend to stain your frock with pine pitch after the required relaxation time."
Hmm, all I needed now was to find out if this lack of an in home stereo was indeed an emergency. Returning to the file cabinet in my noggin, I flip through the chapters one at a time. Chapter 7, " Situational Determinations of what constitutes Work and Non Work." Subtitled, "Is it Work or Not". Section 13 covers several Situations and how they may be assigned Emergency Status. Situation #3 defines any activity denied a LNGMA fellow considered as fun and not work could be considered an emergency. Music was fun and not work. Well, punching in the CD's adjusting the volume and headphones might be labeled Almost Work if lumped together. But not a clear violation of the Non Work ethic.
Feeling secure that none of our order's Sacred rules are being broken, just bent, I scramble to come up with that 10 minute solution. The clock is ticking. Think, dig deep, conjure up some magic. Wait! The answer is right here. In my face, it has been silently waiting for me to notice. I plug the headphones into the little hole on one of the computer speakers and punch a CD into the M Drive. Turn it up to WOW. We have blast off!
Rock on little brother
Tap those little feet
Drum your midget digits
Let the music hit you like a lover
Lost but eventually found
Not love on the rebound
Or love scored downtown
Simple love, famous
But not renowned
More the love of clowns
With grease paint frowns
They stumble and shake
Gurgle up, rattle and quake
If you have gotten this far Little brother
You might just wanna
Run screaming to your little mother.
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