Dress Rehearsal

As much as I enjoy being the world’s foremost authority, the income isn’t what it might be. I’ve been thinking about a money-making enterprise I’d like to try out as a kind of dress rehearsal on my devoted Stereo Times audience. The plan: there’s all kinds of wasted floor space here in my sophisticated loft abutting everything interesting. Why not put it to work?

I propose to set up a few chairs and tables with checkered tablecloths and candles in empty wine bottles and a small, nicely lit stage with a Left-Bank backdrop and call it Le Club Audiophilique, which is French for The Audiophile Club, or maybe Club Audiophile — things get lost in translation. I, of course, would be the headliner. I repeat of course in case you missed the first one.

So then, how about I try out a few humorous bits? You’ll be my guinea pigs. I hope you’re seated. I don’t want any injuries. Here’s the first one.

Knock knock.
Who’s there?
Transparency.
Transparency who?
Transparency you’re not wearing any underwear, tee hee, ahem, bada boom.

Fabulous, yes? Have you regained your composure? Then let’s go on.

Knock knock.
Who’s there?
Soundstage.
Soundstage who?
Soundstage leaves in half an hour and you better be on it!

Oh God, I just wet myself. This stuff is beyond terrific.

Knock knock.
Who’s there?
Vocalist.
Vocalist who?
Vocalist as vocal does.

Well yes, all right, some of these poke their humorous heads through metaphysical windows, but as you, my public, are so obviously superior in intelligence — why else would you have come this far? — I figure I can run the classier items without incurring incomprehension. You picked up on the Forrest Gump allusion, right? Okay, look, let’s understand something — I’ll be serving booze. Loosens folks up. Good source of income too. But I’ll need to apply for a liquor license.

Liquor? I hardly know her! Bada boom, bada boom, bada boom! Damn, I’m good!

Knock knock.
Who’s there?
Resistance.
Resistance who?
Resistance is useless, come out with your hands on your head.

Knock knock.
Who’s there?
Capacitance.
Capacitance who?
Capacitance O’Toole. I’m here to pick up my cousin Inductance.

I’m kind of hoping that by now there’s been some advanced drinking going on, or maybe that the audience is familiar with the mother superior they call Sequitur. She’s a nun, get it — non sequitur. Um, maybe not. Got to give this a little more thought.

Don’t relax. I’ll be back.

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