Post by bm on Oct 9, 2006 19:06:31 GMT 10
A musician who's spent his entire life trying to get a record deal is feeling
extremely depressed. He's been turned-down by every record company he's ever
contacted. No one seems to recognize his unique genius. So, he decides to top
himself and comes up with an ingenius plan to get back at all the record
companies who've rejected him.
He books time at a recording studio and instructs the sound engineer to
record everything he says, and every sound he hears, and then copy it all on to
1000 CDs, and send a CD to every record company executive on the list that he
hands the engineer.
The guy walks into the vocal booth; the red light is on, and he begins...
"This is a message for all you sycophantic, talentless, stupid record company
buttholes who've ignored me for all these years. I've dedicated my life to
writing beautiful, emotive, soul-searching music, and all you bastards do is
discard my tapes, never return my phone calls, and sign these horrible, no-talent,
ridiculous, dumb bands, and these filthy, dirty rappers! Well, you bunch of
morons, you parasites, you dumb wankers; I've taken all I can of your puerile,
shallow industry, and it's you who have driven me to this! Goodbye you freakin'
murderers of art!"
With that, he pulls out a gun, puts it to his head and blows his brains
out.
The sound engineer glances up and says, "Okay. That's fine. Wanna go for a
take?"
extremely depressed. He's been turned-down by every record company he's ever
contacted. No one seems to recognize his unique genius. So, he decides to top
himself and comes up with an ingenius plan to get back at all the record
companies who've rejected him.
He books time at a recording studio and instructs the sound engineer to
record everything he says, and every sound he hears, and then copy it all on to
1000 CDs, and send a CD to every record company executive on the list that he
hands the engineer.
The guy walks into the vocal booth; the red light is on, and he begins...
"This is a message for all you sycophantic, talentless, stupid record company
buttholes who've ignored me for all these years. I've dedicated my life to
writing beautiful, emotive, soul-searching music, and all you bastards do is
discard my tapes, never return my phone calls, and sign these horrible, no-talent,
ridiculous, dumb bands, and these filthy, dirty rappers! Well, you bunch of
morons, you parasites, you dumb wankers; I've taken all I can of your puerile,
shallow industry, and it's you who have driven me to this! Goodbye you freakin'
murderers of art!"
With that, he pulls out a gun, puts it to his head and blows his brains
out.
The sound engineer glances up and says, "Okay. That's fine. Wanna go for a
take?"