With the tough economy, Swami X couldn't complain about his job as a mosquito researcher
I have been trying to go through 14 years of crap of which I have accumulated in part due to having Winona Ryder’s Disease, otherwise known as kleptomania, but mostly due to a vow of poverty I took when I was six because I was duped by stupid Christian missionaries who gave me wine to drink from a Coke can and then brainwashed me with the misinterpreted words of Jesus which they explained meant that poverty is the golden key to Heaven and that I should jerk them off. This has resulted in me spending any and all money that finds its way into my pocket on crap I don’t need, as well as being unable to listen to any music of Michael Jackson’s without bursting into tears. As I take my daily walks with Abandon, my broke ass comes across tons of the cross-wearing impoverished and all I can think is that my idea of Heaven is not having to see these bums every day—let alone for eternity!
For all you youngin’s out there, back before iPods and even CDs there was a technology called the audiotape. It played fine enough for the times but if you wanted get to the next song, you would have to hit FAST-FORWARD…then STOP…then PLAY…then FAST-FORWARD again… and keep doing this a multitude of times before you got to the blank space designating the few seconds of silence before the next track.
Between the iPod and smoke signals was the "audiotape"
Inevitably you would find the tape stopping in the middle of playback for no apparent reason and when you opened up the box radio or stereo you would pull the plastic case of the audiotape out and the tape which contained the music data would be attached to both the case and the stereo system like a world-class loogie that you still had in your mouth which was outstretched all the way to the floor and grabbing ants off the ground.
Not Guinness Book but still nasty!
This was also an era where when you made a “mix tape” for someone it involved hitting both PLAY and RECORD, as no one figured out back then how to invent the Superman button that could record in a single button. You also needed some serious math skills to figure out how to fit what you wanted onto the tape, because unlike a CD or MP3 where deleting a song can be accomplished with a single keystroke and rearranging song order is as easy as highlighting and dragging, if the mix tape ended when you had only recorded half the song, you would be forced to… REWIND…STOP…PLAY. That’s not it. REWIND…STOP…PLAY. No, not yet. REWIND…STOP…PLAY. Crap, I overshot! FAST-FORWARD…STOP…PLAY… You get the point.
The other day I played Sounds Of The Everglades produced in 1991 from Silver Bells Music, billed as “Nature’s relaxing sounds with music.” I appreciated that the word “Of” was capitalized, as I think it a crime against grammarity that the smaller words often get the shaft when it comes to capitalization. The description on the paper insert said it was an hour in length and that one should “Envision yourself in the Everglades as you hear the tropical animals and birds inhabit the Everglades. ‘With Music.’” And then it came back to me why I hadn’t played this tape in almost twenty years and I smiled, eagerly awaiting to hear again what I knew was to be coming. Why I saved the tape for that long did not come to me then and I worry it never will.
I hit PLAY on my stereo (still equipped with audiotape playback capacity) and I was instantly teleported to The Everglades where the crickets cricked and the tropical animals and birds were playing in nature’s philharmonic orchestra conducted by none other than Guido Cantelli himself! I found the synthesized chord that would shift etherically in the background very soothing. I could see the lush greens of the forest. I could smell the negative ions from the waterfall. I could—BZZZZZZZ. What the fu—? Suddenly the recorded sound of a mosquito was disturbing my relaxing envisionment as it buzzed my ears mercilessly! SLAP. SLAP. CLAP! I think I got him! And I was back to my envisioning.
Crickets chirping. Owls HOO-HOOing. Chimpanzees spanking it. The synthetic chord so pleasant it almost earned a label of “Organic” from the approval board. And then—another BZZZZZZZ! What the—? What kind of relaxation tape is this?? I would have liked to be a fly on the wall at the business meeting where one guy presented this brainchild:
“I’m envisioning a recording of nature sounds—crickets, birds, maybe an occasional frog ribbiting a love song for his betrothed. Suddenly the listener is attacked by a swarm of mosquitoes that don’t let up for an hour straight.”
“Do you think an hour is enough time to induce a total slap-happy experience?” asks his coworker.
“We’ll add a little synthesizer to help make the experience more complete, so that in just a single hour one can leave feeling totally irritated to their core. If not, they can get up, walk over to the stereo, hit EJECT, turn over the cassette tape. Close the carriage door, hit PLAY, go back to their seat or couch or bed and enjoy it for a second round,” he suggests, not even acknowledging that the listener would have to do this after a half-hour anyway in order to hear the second side of the audiotape—yes, audiotapes had two sides of recording pleasure!
“I THINK WE HAVE A WINNER HERE!” everyone chimes in unison and the circle-jerk begins.
At that point my fly ass would buzz all of their ears and request a starring role in their Grammy Award-Winning audio presentation. And by “Grammy,” I mean an award that a Grandmother would get for not pissing her diaper in the old age home for two straight hours.
Grammy, can you at least close your legs?
After listening to the tape for an hour, I must admit that once the stereo bellowed out the loud click of the tape ending and shutting off, I was feeling a lot more relaxed than when I first hit PLAY—oh wait, it’s not rewound—STOP…REWIND…CLICK… Ready to hit PLAY. I figured if I could endure an hour of hundreds of mosquitoes feeding ravagingly, creating newly-formed skin teats where their intravenous mouth needles withdrew my blood, what could my mundane life devoid of “envisioning” do that would be even remotely irritating to me?
"My feet itch. Do you think it might be Athlete's Foot?"
As I got ready for bed at 3:00 a.m. the blast of loud music broadcast through my window from the sidewalk below. Suddenly I craved the soothing sound of mosquitoes buzzing.
“he must have been a girl before and changed into a transexual”…
“If your male and your BF has a vagina then he is pregnant. If he has a penis then he might have cancer. A male who gets a positive on a HPT most likely has cancer.”…
While the comment above is clearly spam, the information is so useful I had to post it. I’ve been fucking my boyfriend in the ass all these years and just ignoring the fact that he had a vagina. Now that I know this means he is pregnant, I can forgive his mood swings. And I am so happy that because he doesn’t have a penis he is most probably cancer free!