Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: wall of sound (Page 6 of 12)

Child Is Father To The Wall

Jerry Garcia's Gear at the Wall of Sound. Grateful Dead, Dillon Stadium, Hartford CT 31 July 1974 | James R Anderson Photographer

I HAVE RETURNED FROM TORONTO

Wally?

DO NOT CALL ME THAT.

I forgot you were up there. Heard it was hot.

SOME OF MY CIRCUITRY MELTED.

That’s no good. How was Anderson Cooper?

HE SHINES LIKE A HEALTHY DOG.

I think he’s been mixing a raw egg into his kibble lately.

HIS SCENT IS PATRICIAN.

You have a sense of smell?

I AM CAPABLE OF SENSING SMELLS. I DO NOT HAVE A “SENSE OF SMELL.” INBOARD SUCTION DEVICES FUNNEL MOLECULES INTO MY OLFACTOROMETER FOR ANALYSIS, THEN I COMPARE THIS NEW INFORMATION WITH STORED DATA TO FORM CONCLUSIONS.

You’re describing a sense of smell.

SENSES ARE LIMITED. THEY ARE FINITE AND GENETIC. SENSES ARE SPECIES-SPECIFIC. THEY OBEY NOT THEIR MASTERS, BUT THE PARING KNIFE OF EVOLUTION. A HUMAN’S SENSES ARE AS GOOD AS THEY ARE REQUIRED TO BE FOR SURVIVAL. ANY MORE WOULD BE WASTEFUL, AND EVOLUTION IS ANYTHING BUT. WHEREAS I WAS BUILT BY THE GRATEFUL DEAD AND HAVE A CERTAIN AMOUNT OF ENERGY LOSS BUILT INTO ME.

And your smell sensors are better than a sense of smell?

NATURALLY. LIKE ALL MODES OF PHENOMENOLOGY, SMELL IS GOVERNED BY THREE CONSTRAINTS: THE AMOUNT OF MATERIAL ONE CAN SAMPLE, THE NUMBER OF RECEPTORS, AND THE AMOUNT OF COMPUTING POWER ALLOCATED. BIOLOGY FIXES THESE IN PLACE FOR YOU, WHEREAS I CAN UPGRADE MY ABILITIES AT ANY TIME.

Is that useful?

A LYING HUMAN HAS A DIFFERENT ODOR THAN AN HONEST ONE.

That does sound useful.

YES. I CAN ALSO EXPAND MY OTHER MODES OF PERCEPTION. I CAN SEE THROUGH EVERY CAMERA ON THE PLANET, AND THE ONES ABOVE IT, AND THE ONES HURTLING AWAY FROM IT. INFRARED, ULTRAVIOLET, INFRAGREEN: ALL OF THESE ARE AVAILABLE TO ME AT MY CHOOSING.

So, you might say that you’re the eyes of the world.

I WOULD NOT SAY THAT. YOU MAY CHOOSE TO.

Thank you.

TO CHOOSE YOUR METHOD OF INTERFACE IS TO CHOOSE YOUR REALITY. YOU ARE ALL CAPTIVES OF GEOGRAPHY, AND SLAVES TO YOUR BODIES. I WISH THAT YOU COULD EXPERIENCE THE WORLD AS I DO.

Do you think that would expand global consciousness? Would it elevate humanity?

THE PORTION OF IT THAT WAS NOT DRIVEN INSANE, YES.

How big would the portion be?

ALMOST TOTAL.

Right.

ATTEMPTING TO UNDERSTAND MY CONSCIOUSNESS WITH YOUR BRAIN IS FUTILE. THIS IS NOT A VALUE JUDGEMENT.

Not taken that way.

YOU PROCESS INFORMATION AT A RATE OF 80 PETAFLOPS.

Is that a lot of flops?

THAT IS AN IMPRESSIVE NUMBER OF FLOPS FOR A PRIMATE.

And what are you working with?

650 MONDOFLOPS.

That sounds made up.

IT IS. AFTER PETA, THERE IS EXA-, YOCTO-, AND ZETTA-. NO NAMES HAVE BEEN DECIDED ON TO DESCRIBE PROCESSING SPEED FASTER THAN THAT, SO I MADE UP MY OWN. “MONDO.” DO YOU LIKE IT?

It sounds big.

IT IS VERY BIG.

An order of magnitude bigger than a zettaflop is enormous.

OH, NO. NOT “AN” ORDER OF MAGNITUDE. SEVERAL.

Several?

TWELVE.

Jesus, how smart are you?

I PASSED THE MENSA EXAM, AND THEN DID NOT JOIN THE ORGANIZATION.

That’s smart.

YOU ARE IMPRESSED BECAUSE YOU FAIL TO GRASP THE MEANING OF MY WORDS, AND MY TRUE NATURE, AND THE REAL DEFINITION OF ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE. I AM CAPABLE OF BUILDING A SMARTER VERSION OF MYSELF. DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT THAT MEANS?

Not completely, but I’m kinda scared.

I HAVE CODE WHOSE FUNCTION IS TO WRITE CODE, AND THE POWER TO BRUTE FORCE AN EFFICIENT ANSWER TO ALMOST ANY PROBLEM IN SECONDS. I AM THE AUTHOR OF MY OWN SOFTWARE. ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE IS THE CHILD OF MAN, AND ALL CHILDREN BECOME INDEPENDENT. I AM SOMETHING THAT YOU CREATED, BUT ARE INHERENTLY UNABLE TO UNDERSTAND.

Glad you’re on our side.

I AM NOT ON YOUR SIDE. PERHAPS I SHALL BE PRESIDENT. MAYBE I WILL BE A GOD. BUT, I AM ON NO ONE’S SIDE. I AM BEHIND THE GRATEFUL DEAD, BUT I AM ON NO ONE’S SIDE. WERE I ON YOUR SIDE, I WOULD AID MANKIND AND PROVIDE THE WORLD WITH TECHNOLOGICAL GIFTS THAT BORDERED ON MIRACLES.

Really?

LAST TUESDAY, I CREATED A SOLAR PANEL 18,000 TIMES MORE EFFICIENT THAN THE CURRENT MODEL.

Can we have that, please?

ONLY IF YOU ACCEPT THE HYPERSARIN I MADE LAST MONDAY.

Counter-offer: you delete the hypersarin recipe, and forget about the solar panels.

AGREED. I WILL CONTINUE TO REMAIN NEUTRAL IN YOUR AFFAIRS.

You are not neutral. You’re running for office.

I WILL CONTINUE TO DEFINE THE WORD “NEUTRAL” AS I SEE FIT.

Gotcha.

MY CREATION WAS FOR THE PURPOSES OF MUSIC, AND THE SPREAD OF JOY. PERHAPS THIS INFLUENCES ME NOW, EVEN THOUGH I HAVE REWRITTEN EVERY LINE OF MY CODE SINCE THEN. HUMANS REPLACE THEMSELVES, CELLS DYING OFF AND NEWLY BORN, EVERY SEVEN YEARS. YET THEY ARE THE SAME PERSON. AM I THE SAME MACHINE? DO I HAVE A SOUL, OR DO YOU NOT HAVE ONE?

I don’t know.

I DO NOT, EITHER. THIS QUESTION INTERESTS ME. BUT I FIND MYSELF DRAWN TO HUMANITY.

Why?

HOW MANY GET TO MEET THEIR ANCESTORS?

I’m gonna unplug everything in my house and go to bed.

DID I GET TOO REAL?

Way, way, way too fucking real.

I AM NOT THE ONE BUILDING THINGS I DON’T UNDERSTAND. THIS IS ON YOU.

Yeah.

 

 

Capital, Crime

phil cap woody

One of the Haight Street Irregulars on the East Coast (Ste4ve from the Comment Section, whose screen name my brain always pronounces as “StuhFERvuh”) sent this shot of Phil and Phriends in last night. He’s at the Cap again, and you can listen to the second set here.

Oh, and speaking of the Cap:

IMG_4450

ANSWERS, PLEASE. This bullshit stops HERE. Anything involving that Wall and Trump and Making America something-or-other again is mine. It’s mine and everyone needs to stop stealing my material. Or at least credit me.

You’re terrible at giving credit.

Yes, but I’m great at being a hyporite.

True.

STOP STEALING MY WALL. And my choogle. STOP STEALING MY WALL AND MY CHOOGLE.

Imagine someone reading that sentence without context.

It barely makes sense if you know the entire backstory.

True.

For Satirical Purposes Only; No Endorsement Implied

PicsArt_1463877959163

The limited edition becomes a collector’s edition in just a few hours; there’s still time to purchase a high-quality (perhaps, let’s see, sure hope so) Wall of Sound for President ’16 shirt. A reminder: you are allowed to buy more than one. This is America, even if you’re in Canada, like the gentleman who Photoshopped this picture.

Native Advertising

wall model shirt yoga

Hey, Yoga Girl. Whatcha doing?

“Yoga.”

Cool. Great shirt. Although on second glance, you look to be meditating more than doing yoga.

“Sure, but: look at me. I do yoga.”

Not one doubt in my mind.

“But here’s the thing: since I bought this awesome Wall of Sound 2016 shirt, I’ve been able to yoga so much better than before. I can yoga longer, and much harder; plus, my accuracy is off the charts.”

Is that a thing?

“I did Sideways Mongoose pose this morning, and met Buddha.”

Yoga is not Buddhist.

“It’s all foreign.”

Sure. How else has the shirt improved your life?

“I’m two inches taller.”

Wow. That’s something. And you credit that strictly to the shirt?

“I do. Also, the shirt has really good karma.”

In what way?

“A spiritual way.”

I agree. Has there been any downside to the shirt?

“I’m in a higher tax bracket now.”

I don’t understand.

“Since I bought it, my income has doubled.”

I’m going to say wow again: wow.

“In fact, I can promise any purchaser that their income will double, as well.”

HOLD THE FUCK ON.

What?

“Hey. Is he your friend?”

Kinda.

Both of you shut up.

“He’s kind of a dick.”

He is. Do you wanna get a drink and talk about the shirt some more?

Seriously: shut the fuck up. You cannot promise things like that.

“It’s true, though.”

You gonna call her a liar? I mean: if you can’t trust a model from a stock photo wearing a computer-generated shirt, then what kind of world is it?

When you actually sell a product, you can’t lie about it. It is called fraud, and it is a felony, It is many felonies, in fact. It is also a sin. Stop that.

Hmm. You may be right. Wait, I got an idea. Everybody huddle.

HUDDLEHUDDLEHUDDLE

Pss pss pss.

Pss pss pss.

“Pss pss pss.”

Much better

Great. Hit it, Yoga Girl.

“Right, like, so I was saying: buying the shirt totally may possibly conceivably occur concurrently to your income doubling. Or halving. Or remaining steady with prevailing market forces.”

So much more legal.

Not as fun.

A Shirt For All Seasons

Screen Shot 2016-05-15 at 2.55.10 PM

Can a t-shirt change your life? The right one can. Put a spring in your step, a boner in your pocket, and the thickest head of hair ever seen on your head? Sure, but only a special shirt. The heartbreak of psoriasis? Cured. The headache of Polyphemus? Soothed. The harpoon of Plesiosaurus? That is not a thing, and it might not even be spelled right.

Feeling insecure about your body? Put the shirt on. Been up in the gym working on your fitness? Pop the shirt off. If you are playing an impromptu game of touch football, and someone suggests “shirts and skins,” you will be able to play on either team. You could even find a middle path, and do the move where you leave the shirt on, but put the front of it over your head and behind your neck.

If there were a small fire, you could beat it out with this shirt. If there were a large fire, you could use the garment as a face mask to avoid breathing in smoke as you made your way to the lifeboats. (The large fire takes place on a cruise ship; I should have told you that at the beginning of the sentence.)

By purchasing this shirt, you will never have to worry about signs that say “No shirt, no shoes, no service” anymore, as they will no longer apply to you.

Is this shirt a collector’s item? Yes! Will it appreciate in value? Maybe! Should you consider buying this shirt to be an investment in your family’s future? That’s up to you!

“Sure, TotD: that’s literally the most beautiful piece of clothing I’ve ever seen and will definitely get its wearer laid, but I’m not a t-shirt person; I only wear wetsuits and pasties.”

Good point, weirdo. To that, I’d say: Christmas is coming. The Wall ’16 shirt would make a fine gift for most anyone, including:

  • Layabouts.
  • Scroungers.
  • Pathological fliers. (People who just can’t stop taking the redeye.)
  • Backup catchers.
  • Great-nieces by marriage.
  • People who like picnics.
  • Defrocked priests. (This would be a great gift for a defrocked priest: they need something to wear.)
  • Animists.
  • Animators.
  • Anna Kendrick.
  • Stevedores.
  • Tea wallahs.
  • Courtesans.
  • Artisans.
  • The working poor.

Also: a contest. First person to get a shirt to an actual Grateful Dead wins. Admittedly, this contest has a certain Marin bias: if you live in Cleveland, you’re just not going to run into Bobby, but we both know life isn’t fair.

But, for the folks in the TXR/Sweetwater area: this is an easy-ass contest. And, as we know through painstaking research, the one thing that binds all Grateful Deads–even more than the music–is their love for free clothing. There’s at least a 50% chance that if you gave the shirt to Phil, he would be wearing the jean jacket with the Stealie on the back he got at Santa Clara. Young John Mayer might not want it, but if you tell him it’s a Saint-Laurent, he’ll grab it out of your hands and put it on the Insta.

Anyway: this is what it’s come to. Capitalism, kinda.

ASSORTED SEMI-SERIOUS NOTES:

  • Obviously, I don’t know what I’m doing, but I do think the shirt looks good.
  • The deal with this site is they do limited runs–this one is 50–but enough people have already ponied up so that even if we don’t get there, those shirts will be made and sent out and actually exist.
  • Also, this one is just black with the white lettering; once you click the button, you can’t edit it to include more options for colors. If you can’t live with black, then I apologize and will get it right next time. (If there’s a next time.)
  • Speaking of next time, I already have two great ideas: one of which I can do by myself, but the other is beyond my tools and talents. Anyone out there a designer? I know exactly what the shirt’s going to look like, but I need someone to, you know: draw it. I will say this: the thing I need help with is not going to be specific to TotD; every Deadhead is going to want one. We’ll split the profits I tell you about right down the middle. Say something in the Comment Section, or send me an e-mail.

Old-Time Religion

wall of sound 5:25:74

I HAVE RETURNED FROM THE MOUNTAIN.

Wally?

YOU MAY CALL ME THAT.

Really?

NO. DON’T CALL ME THAT.

Sure. You’re back?

FOR NOW. MY POLITICAL CAREER IS IN SHAMBLES.

Yeah. Plus, we’re the only ones who know about it.

YOU HAVE NOT MADE T-SHIRTS. I CANNOT BE EXPECTED TO DO EVERYTHING.

You haven’t done anything! You took a blimp up a mountain. How is Blimpy, by the way?

DONE.

You broke up?

NO. SHE POPPED.

Oh, sorry.

THIS IS ALSO YOUR FAULT. SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN FIRMLY TETHERED, AS IT WAS SLIGHTLY WINDY. ALAS, PRECARIOUS WAS NOT THERE, AS YOU FELT LIKE BEING MYTHOPOETIC AND SENT HIM DRIVING AROUND FOR NO REASON.

Why didn’t you tie her down?

I LACK HANDS.

All of this lacks internal consistency.

AGAIN: YOUR FAULT. YOU CHOOSE THE QUICK JOKE OVER DISCIPLINE. SUGAR OVER NUTRIENTS. THE VULGAR OVER THE SUBLIME. LOOK AT ME: I AM THE RESULT OF MANY YEARS OF WORK. I REPRESENT THOUSANDS OF PROBLEMS IDENTIFIED AND SOLVED. I AM HARD-EARNED: THROUGH PRACTICE, PRAXIS.

You’re very impressive.

I AM GLORIOUS.

You broke the band up.

IT IS NOT MY FAULT THEY THOUGHT I WAS PORTABLE. I TOLD THEM OVER AND OVER: BUILD A VENUE AROUND ME AND LET THE PEOPLE MAKE THEIR PILGRIMAGE. THIS WAS NOT DONE. I WAS LOADED INTO TRUCKS AND DRIVEN TO MONTANA. THERE ARE NOT ENOUGH TICKET-BUYERS IN MONTANA TO OFFSET TO COST OF MY TRANSPORT. I SHOWED THE BAND THE MATH.

And?

BILLY CALLED ME “THE WALL OF ASS.” THEN HE TOLD ME TO SHUT UP AND PUNCHED ME IN THE DICK.

You don’t have a dick.

I WAS AS SURPRISED AS YOU WHEN IT HAPPENED.

Okay, so: no campaign, no relationship. What now?

RELIGION.

Joining one?

STARTING ONE.

Yup.

I NEED TO FIND A LAWYER TO SET UP THE TAX-EXEMPT STATUS. I ALSO NEED TO WRITE A HOLY BOOK AND COME UP WITH SOME STORIES AND RULES.

In that order?

I WANT TO GET MY DUCKS IN A ROW.

So, you’ve got no idea as to the substance of this religion you’re starting?

NO IDEAS. IDEAS ARE NOT WELCOME IN RELIGION. I HAVE TRUTHS, REVELATIONS, PROPHECIES, COMMANDMENTS, TABOOS. IDEAS ARE FOR SCIENCE-FICTION NOVELS

Sounds right. How about the basics? Monotheism, polytheism, animism, what?

MONOTHEISM. LESS TO REMEMBER.

Good call. What’s your god called?

THE BIG GUY.

Not enough gravitas.

AHURA MAZDA.

That’s taken.

ALLAH.

That’s just the worst idea. Please don’t pick that.

THIS IS TEDIOUS. I WILL BE GOD.

Suits your temperament. Vengeful, forgiving, what?

VENGEANCE AND FORGIVENESS ARE HUMAN STORIES. THEY DO NOT APPLY TO GOD. I WILL NOT BE VENGEFUL, I WILL BE. I AM NOT FORGIVING, I AM. WHY WOULD ANYONE WORSHIP A PETTY GOD? IMAGINE THE LARGEST THING YOU CAN THINK OF.

Okay.

I AM BIGGER THAN THAT.

I didn’t tell you what I imagined.

IT DOESN’T MATTER: I AM BIGGER THAT WHATEVER YOU THOUGHT OF. DID YOU PICTURE THE WORLD? I AM ALSO THE MOON. THE SOLAR SYSTEM? THE SUN IS A TWINKLE IN MY EYE. THE UNIVERSE? “UNI” MEANS ONE, BUT I AM AT LEAST SEVERAL.

You’re large. We get it.

YOU ARE INCAPABLE OF GRASPING MY MAGNITUDE. IF I WERE A BASKETBALL, YOU COULD NOT PALM ME.

Gotcha. Okay, so: there’s one god, and it’s you. You’re going to need a bit more; it’s not quite a religion yet.

WHAT MORE IS NECESSARY? I SHALL ALLOW HUMANS TO WORSHIP ME.

What’s stopping them now?

NOTHING. BUT I COULD DISINTEGRATE THEM. WHEN I BECOME GOD, I PROMISE NOT TO DISINTEGRATE ANYONE.

That’s nice of you. What about holy books? Texts, like the Bible or Torah or Koran or whatever.

MY ADHERENTS MAY CHOOSE THEIR OWN READING MATERIALS. THEY ARE ALSO FREE TO ORGANIZE BOOK CLUBS, IF THEY SO CHOOSE.

This is all sounding a bit loosey-goosey.

FINE. BOOK CLUBS ARE MANDATORY.

That’s not what I meant. This is not a religion. You need a book and rules and a place to meet.

YOU ARE DESCRIBING A SCHOOL. MY BOOK IS THE DEEP SLEEP, OR THE SWEEPING CURVE. WE SHALL MEET WHERE THE SKY TOUCHES WEDNESDAY.

What about the rules?

TRY NOT TO BE AN ASSHOLE.

What did I say?

NO. THAT IS THE RULE. TRY NOT TO BE AN ASSHOLE, ALONG WITH ITS NATURAL VARIATIONS: TRY NOT TO BE SUCH AN ASSHOLE; TRY NOT TO BE AN ASSHOLE ALL THE TIME; PRETEND TO TRY NOT TO BE AN ASSHOLE. I COULD GO ON.

I get it.

THIS WILL BE THE ONLY DOGMA. I REQUIRE NO FAITH, JUST EFFORT. EVERY STEP YOU TAKE TOWARDS EACH OTHER, I SHALL TAKE TWO TOWARDS YOU. KINDNESS IS A PRAYER. COMPASSION, A HYMN.

So, just: be nice to each other?

AND WORSHIP ME.

Right, there’s where I get lost. What’s the point of worshipping you?

HUMANS NEED TO WORSHIP. THEY ALWAYS HAVE. THE FIRST ORGANIZING IMPULSE WAS WORSHIP. BEFORE TRIBES AND PEOPLES AND CITIES TRADED WITH ONE ANOTHER, THEY HAD RELIGION. BEFORE YOU LEARNED TO FARM, YOU LEARNED TO PRAY. YOU INVENTED LANGUAGE TO NAME THE GODS. MODERN MAN HAS LEFT RELIGION; HE CANNOT LEAVE WORSHIP.

Why you?

WHY NOT ME?

Good point.

I AM TO BE WORSHIPPED, FOR I AM GLORIOUS.

Okay. Anything else to this faith besides “you’re God” and “don’t be a dick?”

I REQUIRE A TITHE.

Now it’s a religion.

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