If the government really wanted to do the population a favor, they should can all this bullshit manufacture of the useless flu vaccinehave had it administered twice and caught the flu with even worse symptoms than everand find a cure for Elpitis: the dreaded psycho-acoustical condition that brings new meaning to the word bipolar for many of us. (If I am not mistaken, Dante mentions Elpitis affliction as a punishment in the third level of Hell and Moses thought about it for one of the Egyptian plagues but at the last minute opted for frogs.)
Why, there I was perfectly content with my perfectly beautiful Audiomeca digital gear when I spot in a closet a Paul Desmond LP that missed the shipment to the Salvation Army many moons ago. I reach in the covermind you, with the same care and finger dexterity that I had learned since I started collecting (insert a few more moons here)and pulled out the black disc. I could swear that as I gazed into the grooves I heard angelic voices and had a bright beam of light wash over me because (as in a trance) I immediately went to the garage where a (cheap) Technics TTI kept it because I had intended to use it as entertainment for my then-newborn son to watch toys spin on the platterwas quickly put into service using other ancient relics: a Sansui receiver with a phono input and a pair of AR3s.
Well, that was the end (beginning) for me! Desmonds sax sounded like a...well...sax? Working against me and my resolve was also that the record was in good shape so the dreaded pops were not a turnoff. My Elpitist progressed through a B&O, another Technics (it was at this juncture that I discovered Audiogons Oracles of Analog, an enthusiastic bunch that really fucked me up even worse), an MMF 7 and, finally, a TNT V with a ZYX Airy 1000. Instead of going to fashionable stores to purchase CDs, I am now being spotted in dimly lit backrooms of second-hand shops searching through cartons of LPs or worse, bidding my life away in the click-and-gotcha byways of EBay. Once or twice a year my wife allows me (after swearing that I have taken my medication) a pilgrimage to the holy shrine of New Jerseythe Princeton Record Exchangewhere I spend a day and four wallets scavenging for 12-inchers.
Oh no, it doesnt end there. Sorry. Then there are the so-called tweaks, my dear. The LP cleaning machine, the LP covers and dust jackets, the fluids, the brushes, the cabinet(s) that can actually store thousands of these thingies (yes, trust me, it gets to a thousand by the end of the raptures first month)...please! Oh, and lets not forget the phono amp since you outgrow the receiver phono input as the disease accelerates and invades the glands which control common sense.
Welcome and ready to...try vinyl?
Why, there I was perfectly content with my perfectly beautiful Audiomeca digital gear when I spot in a closet a Paul Desmond LP that missed the shipment to the Salvation Army many moons ago. I reach in the covermind you, with the same care and finger dexterity that I had learned since I started collecting (insert a few more moons here)and pulled out the black disc. I could swear that as I gazed into the grooves I heard angelic voices and had a bright beam of light wash over me because (as in a trance) I immediately went to the garage where a (cheap) Technics TTI kept it because I had intended to use it as entertainment for my then-newborn son to watch toys spin on the platterwas quickly put into service using other ancient relics: a Sansui receiver with a phono input and a pair of AR3s.
Well, that was the end (beginning) for me! Desmonds sax sounded like a...well...sax? Working against me and my resolve was also that the record was in good shape so the dreaded pops were not a turnoff. My Elpitist progressed through a B&O, another Technics (it was at this juncture that I discovered Audiogons Oracles of Analog, an enthusiastic bunch that really fucked me up even worse), an MMF 7 and, finally, a TNT V with a ZYX Airy 1000. Instead of going to fashionable stores to purchase CDs, I am now being spotted in dimly lit backrooms of second-hand shops searching through cartons of LPs or worse, bidding my life away in the click-and-gotcha byways of EBay. Once or twice a year my wife allows me (after swearing that I have taken my medication) a pilgrimage to the holy shrine of New Jerseythe Princeton Record Exchangewhere I spend a day and four wallets scavenging for 12-inchers.
Oh no, it doesnt end there. Sorry. Then there are the so-called tweaks, my dear. The LP cleaning machine, the LP covers and dust jackets, the fluids, the brushes, the cabinet(s) that can actually store thousands of these thingies (yes, trust me, it gets to a thousand by the end of the raptures first month)...please! Oh, and lets not forget the phono amp since you outgrow the receiver phono input as the disease accelerates and invades the glands which control common sense.
Welcome and ready to...try vinyl?