Unfrozen Cave Man Musician

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Too Many Notes
Joined
Apr 26, 2012
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Location
Michigan
My name is Geetrock.

Fifty thousand years ago, I fell into a big hole in the ice. I was frozen solid. Recently a group of scientists thawed me out and I had to live in the modern world.

Your world confuses and frightens me! In my world of 50,000 years ago, pop music was all about electric guitars. But after I was unfrozen, I thought I would never hear a guitar in pop music again. It was all loops and synths and samples. I was scared when I heard people talking over drumbeats and repetitive bass lines, instead of singing.

After I was unfrozen, I mated with one of your people. She was willing to overlook my strange appearance, and lack of what you call intelligence and manners, because she was interested in my stories of Woolly Mammoth hunts.

We had some children, and one of them said to me, "Electric guitars are never coming back, dad."

Well, I don't know much about what's gone on in the last fifty thousand years, but there is one thing I DO know...I'm starting to hear electric guitars again.
 
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Caveman was a drummer.

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I was going to post something new and utterly hilarious here, but my martini glass got knocked over by my headphone cable while I was listening to the Natalie Merchant video in another thread, and the martini landed in my lap. The entire thing. Didn't get even as much as a sip.

Now I can't remember what the heck I was thinking about. You should all feel sorry for me on two levels: One, I'm a klutz. Two, a pair of wet pants in a certain area is NOT a good look.

"There are quite a few articles on the relationship between drinking and cancer, Les, maybe you lucked out. What happened to the olives?"

"You'll have to tell that to my pants. Is there such a thing as pants cancer? However, the olives didn't leave the martini glass, and WTF is up with martini glasses anyway? Is this Breakfast at Tiffany's?"

"I can't tell you about movies from the 1960s, I was too busy not watching them, But let's talk cancer of the pants. How close are your pants to your colon?"

"I dunno, Pretty close, though I do wear underwear."

"Your underwear may have saved your life. But maybe you should stop spilling your drinks."

"Whaddaya think, will something like a thermos with a screw-on lid save my benighted ass?"

"Screwing lids on thermoses might cause other diseases. You have to worry about everything. I sure do."

"You're not much help."

"I'm not supposed to be. My job is to be your Diavolo Avogadro."

"I suppose it's too much to ask for you to just be...I dunno, my muse or something."

"Yeah, that's not happening. See if you can find a girlfriend."

"That's not happening either. I've lost whatever looks I once may have had, and I'm not sufficiently rich to attract a girlfriend; even a desperate grandma would find me marginal at best."

"You're screwed. Go change your pants."
 
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I was going to post something new and utterly hilarious here, but my martini glass got knocked over by my headphone cable while I was listening to the Natalie Merchant video in another thread, and the martini landed in my lap. The entire thing. Didn't get even as much as a sip.

Now I can't remember what the heck I was thinking about. You should all feel sorry for me on two levels: One, I'm a klutz. Two, a pair of wet pants in a certain area is NOT a good look.

"There are quite a few articles on the relationship between drinking and cancer, Les, maybe you lucked out. What happened to the olives?"

"You'll have to tell that to my pants. Is there such a thing as pants cancer? However, the olives didn't leave the martini glass, and WTF is up with martini glasses anyway? Is this Breakfast at Tiffany's?"

"I can't tell you about movies from the 1960s, I was too busy not watching them, But let's talk cancer of the pants. How close are your pants to your colon?"

"I dunno, Pretty close, though I do wear underwear."

"Your underwear may have saved your life. But maybe you should stop spilling your drinks."

"Whaddaya think, will something like a thermos with a screw-on lid save my benighted ass?"

"Screwing lids on thermoses might cause other diseases. You have to worry about everything. I sure do."

"You're not much help."

"I'm not supposed to be. My job is to be your Diavolo Avogadro."
Three, you wasted a perfectly good martini.:eek:
 
Your world confuses and frightens me! In my world of 50,000 years ago, pop music was all about electric guitars. But after I was unfrozen, I thought I would never hear a guitar in pop music again. It was all loops and synths and samples. I was scared when I heard people talking over drumbeats and repetitive bass lines, instead of singing.
After suffering through all those years of disco, the loop/synth/sample era (without a single guitar track) just rubbed salt in the wound.
 
After suffering through all those years of disco, the loop/synth/sample era (without a single guitar track) just rubbed salt in the wound.
Wait, I liked Disco.

I showed up at Studio 54 in the '70s. I even danced.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, after I was unfrozen. It was just like my cave disco, only we didn't have servers wearing silver hot pants and sneakers, and nothing else."

"You should have."

"I'm sure we would have, but we didn't know from silver. We only knew from flint and ancient deer fur."

"That probably would have worked at Studio 54."

"Who knew?"
 
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