‘Scuse Me While I Kiss The Sky

“There is a moment in every dawn when light floats, there is the possibility of magic”
– Douglas Adams

In all sincerity, my dear reader, there is nothing like a hard hitting quote to kick off a daily dispatch of verbal brilliance to an otherwise dull internet.

It’s very rare that I ever start off a blog with a quote, but when I saw the quote listed above in my reading this morning, I couldn’t help but think “Hey, that kicks ass. How can I use that quote?” Granted the quote preceded a discussion between a swamp mattress and a depressive buzz-kill of a robot, but even still, it was a kick ass quote.

Mental note to self. The new iTunes download which just installed is making my tunes skip as if I’m using a needle instead of all of that digital stuff which espouses the beauty of no moving parts. Look into that later after quoting Eleanor Roosevelt.

The funny thing about that particular quote is that I was reading it in the house of Juniorette’s voice instructor. As he coached her on using her “resonator” instead of her throat to make with the singing, he provided extremely vocal examples by jumping into a very loud falsetto and making noises through his sinus cavity (aka: booger factory or snot locker) consistent with those emitted when you jump on a bicycle right after the seat’s been removed.

“EEEEEE. OOOOOO. AAAAAAAA.”

My thoughts exactly.

None the less, it was difficult to enjoy the ensuing conversation between the mattress and the robot when the instructor was obviously in a great deal of discomfort.

Hearing those noises this morning made me question whether I ever could have pursued a career in the manufacture or engineering of sound. The whole concept of sound and it’s effects have always been interesting to me. It probably started when I learned that farting noises could come from other places on my body other than my butt. As it stands right now, I can recreate that sound in my arm pits, the palms of my hands, and my eye socket.

Those yahoos on America’s Got No Talent have nothing on me. I’ll tell you that right now.

Speaking of sound, I noticed something on the radio this afternoon when the Jimi Hendrix’s Purple Haze came on the air. It’s like the volume on his voice was turned way down and the volume on the instrumental portion was way up. I’ve noticed this before and just chalked it up to a bad recording. Wouldn’t you think though, that a radio station would make sure to have a good copy of that song so as to avoid giving such bantha fodder to smart ass bloggers like me who take no issue with calling out their shortcomings on the big ole internet?

For the record, the issue wasn’t in the settings on my own personal radio in the truck. One of the previous songs had multiple channels of sound (for lack of the correct terminology), and there was not issue. So there.

Aside from a career in sound, what unique occupations are out there that keeps one’s interest and turns normal work into non-work?  After all, the old adage is to find something you love to do and you’ll never have to work a day in your life.  Someone said that once too, but I’m not going to quote him here, because this isn’t the section of the blog where I’m throwing out quotes.

Case in point, there was a picture circulating a few years ago of some over-hyped pop star getting her nipples tweaked in preparation for a video shoot or something. She didn’t do it herself. Instead, some guy stood there and performed what I can only assume was a procedure for which he received extensive training to make the young starlet look just a little bit more perky than she was. One can only wonder how that reads on a resume or presents in a job interview. References available upon request.

Of course, I’m sure there could be worse positions though.

Anyway, I think I’ve babbled enough for now. Much as I found it to be important to lead today’s dispatch with a quote, let’s go ahead and add the other chocolate cookie to this mess of an Oreo and finish this off. Shall we?

Perhaps something a little patriotic.

“America is all about speed – hot, nasty, badass speed”
– Eleanor Roosevelt

Randy Tharp

TharpSter is a husband to one woman, a father to two kids, a master to two dogs, an occasional cubical occupant, and unable to make up his mind on an adequate theme for this website.

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