This is a simulated picture of me listening to the music.
It all started toward the end of May as I cranked away at page after dulling page of an endless papers I have been writing (do not ask about the data torturing!). I went to a deli to pick up lunch and heard, for the second time in my life, a song that I kinda liked.
This is a simulated picture of me listening to the music.
Not knowing an iota about music, other than I dislike three kinds of music and that a school choir teacher once told me, "Quite frankly David, your voice sucks", I set out to find out how to go about getting the music
I am trying to find the music ...
Well, I wasn't too successful until I called a friend ... who wasn't there. So, I decided to send him email. I have enclosed the email below:
Friend, I heard some music I liked. What was it? -Dave.
An immediate reply came:
Friend^-1, I know what it is, don't buy it, I'll get it for you for your birthday. I just can't believe you are so out of it that you wouldn't know what fu[CENSORED]. Have a nice day you fu[CENSORED] -Friend.
was I happy!
But here I sat waiting for the music pondering yet another question: What do hot peppers have to do with anything?
Today, Saturday, June 1, 1996, a strange package arrived at the door.
Even stranger was the packaging!
I had to open it, so I searched for the best knife I have!
After a good thirty miute struggle, of which no camera angle could capture the horrific spectacle of defeat, I managed to cut myself really bad. Blood was gushing everywhere, my poor computer is stained, stained I say! I had to go to the hospital, which has turned into an eternal visit!
ME: Umm, I cut myself really bad, and I am scare of shoots. DR: Nurse, get the big needle. RN: Doctor, do you mean the "Godzilla"? DR: Nurse, NO! Get "Big Bad Bertha"! RN: O.K. ME:I awoke in a room unlike any I had been in before. The walls were soft, as were the floors. Everything was white, with cute bottons spaced evenly, and perfectly around the room (I measured them). It was then I knew I had died, and this was god's waiting room. But suddenly, I hear crys so horrible, crys of pain and anguish, crys of desperation. I slam my head against the door's peephole demanding to see god when the door opens and, and, it is too horible to state. It was clear I was not in god's waiting room. I started screaming, "I know I am not in god's waiting room, I know where I am, I am O.K., really, I swear, let me out, let me out!" But, that only seemed to make things worse. How could this have happened? How could a simple present from a "friend" land me in a place such as this? When I get out, and get back to my office, and my computer -- ohh how I miss stroking my computer, night after night, caressing its keys, and, and, ...
OFFICIAL WARNING -- OFFICIAL WARNING -- OFFICIAL WARNING -- OFFICIAL WARNING -- OFFICIAL WARNING MR. DAVID J. KAPLAN IS SICK, VERY SICK. I HOPE YOU WILL ALL STAY AWAY, VERY FAR AWAY FROM HIM. HE NEEDS REST AND RELAXATION. DO NOT SEND ANYTHING EXCEPT GIFTS, MANY GIFTS. HE SEEMS ENFATUATED WITH GIFTS. IT SOOTHS HIM EACH TIME HE GETS GIFTS, MANY MANY GIFTS OF INCREASING VALUE. ONE THING, BE SURE NOT TO REQUIRE A KNIFE TO OPEN THE GIFTS, MANY MANY GIFTS. OFFICIAL WARNING -- OFFICIAL WARNING -- OFFICIAL WARNING -- OFFICIAL WARNING -- OFFICIAL WARNING