So, seventeen hours of driving and thinking about the just-completed HeadFest can make a body a little loony. So I wrote this little ditty...OK, big ditty:
HeadFest Comic Can-Opera
Largely inspired by coastally displaced Floridian misadventure.
(Unless otherwise noted, the music is the theme song from “The Three Stooges,” you know it, “Three Blind Mice.” During performance it is customary that the parts be sung by constituent groups with audience participation by the contingents present.)
Head-Fi Meet, Head-Fi Meet
Flor – i – da, Flor – i – da
We schlep our gear to the conference room,
We do it so we can share our tunes,
We’re just a big bunch of headphone goons, we’re
Flor – i – da, Flor – i – da.
Flor – i – da, Flor – i – da
Head-Fi Meet, Head-Fi Meet
This morning our breath smelled like hotel eggs,
At noon cables dangled between our legs,
Tonight we’ll eat Sushi and drink from kegs, we’re
Flor – i – da, Flor – i – da
Meet is done, meet is done,
Now for some fun, now for some fun
We coil up our cables and close the meet.
Put boxes in cars and head into the heat.
We giddily waddle our flatland streets, we’re
Flor – i – da, flor – i – da
HEY! You guys. Hey, you guys!
What a big surprise. What a big surprise.
You’ve piles of gear and cables by yards
You normally post like hard-core bards
Get onto your laptops, unload those cards, cuz
WE WANT PIX! WE WANT PIX!
(The all goes quiet and we hear a tympany roll. Still “Three Blind Mice” but in the style of a basso sea shanty.)
New York lurks. New York lurks.
Darn those Florida jerks, darn those Florida jerks.
We’ll post in the morning and by week’s end
The line’s out the door and around the bend,
And soon we’lll have meets that never end, cuz
New York works, New York works.
(Then the music changes. After a short namby-pamby flute and harp introduction, we hear a light and meaningless refrain of Elizabethan parlor dance music. Think tall white wigs and 50 pound hoop dresses, and people doing a stately square-dancing-like thing.)
Weeeest Coast dudes like driving near the beach - and – oc - eans, (ting)
Waaaalking pace with bursts of fury calmed by our I – E – Ms. (honk)
Meeeeets so cool and joy - ous fill our Kar - ma a - gain. (Budhist gong)
Duuuude, please watch your yooo - gurt near my brand new R-10s. (splat!)
(Back to “Three Blind Mice”)
Our meets are big. Our meets are big.
Red Sox Rule! Red Socks Rule!
(then the next two lines in a heavy Boston accent.)
We live near the harbor and up down-east,
We slurp on our chowder and have a feast,
But our members are winners no doubt in the least, ‘cuz
Our meets are big. And Red Socks Rule!
What about us? What about us?
Fly over states. Fly over states.
Your sirens and traffic and stadium cheers,
Have gunked up your triodes and rattled your gear.
Look down from your planes and you’ll see we have ears.
Fly over states. Fly over states.
(Then the changes tune. The rhythm section slides in with a slow Chicago shuffle, think a mixture of “Peter Gun” and stripper music.)
Chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii- town. And De-troit.
Chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii- town. And De-troit.
Driving to meets we dodge the troopers and the stiiiiink of Gary … of Gary
(Side note: Gary is not a guy, but an Indiana industrial hell hole that you have to drive through between Chicago and Detroit.)
Chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii- town. And De-troit.
Chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii- town. And De-troit.
Next HeadFest here. Billy’s the man. We’ll all have fun. It’s going to be quite hairy… quite hairy.
(back to “Three Blind Mice” but in a very dumdy-diddly way.)
We are the mods. We are the mods.
Culturally sensitive squads. Culturally sensitive squads.
We’ll ban the trolls and axe dirty pix.
We’ll fill all your curse-words with asterisks.
We’ll lash you with lessons in Head-Fi civics. We’re
Head-Fi Mods. Head-Fi Mods.
(Now a drumroll quickly turns into a hard rock drum solo intro, and the “three Blind Mice” refrain begins ala AC/DC.)
TURN IT UP! TURN IT UP!
HEAD-FI ROCKS! HEAD-FI ROCKS!
(in a whisper) Then we’ll turn it down to save our ears.
(little louder) No brew will be spoiled by our salty tears.
(full-on sing) And we’ll keep our hearing for years and years. Cuz’
(Angus Young) HEAD-FI ROCKS! HEAD-FI ROCKS!
(Now the music completely changes to a big band hop sung like the Lennon Sisters)
Hey! Lookie there, no avatar, a post count of one.
The newb has no i-de-a that they’re in for some fun.
We’ll wrap our cans around their head and then they’ll be stung!
Sorry a-booouuut your wallet!
Back again with place of birth and postcount of two.
The box is in the corner and it’s covered with drool.
The disc is in, the tubes aglow, a grin like a fool,
Sorry a-booouuut your wallet!
A gear list in the signature and post count of three.
Photos of the pile of gear are posted with glee.
They’re staying up till 3 AM a tapping at keys.
Sorry a-booouuut your wallet!
An avatar, opinions, and a post count of four,
Go ahead and post again, we’ll roll on the floor,
It’s obvious that they don’t need reminding once more,
Sorry about your wallet!
(Back to “Three Blind Mice” but this time like the oppressing drumbeat of the guardsmen’s march in the wizard of OZ. You know: Oooo – eeeeee – um. EE – oooooooo – um.)
We’re the trade. We’re the trade.
You think we’ve got it made. You think we’ve got it made.
But we stand all day as we talk and greet,
We get out of bed and pain shoots from our feet.
But HeadFest is different and, oh, so sweet.
We’re the trade. We’re the trade.
(Back to a happy full-on Three Stooges version of the tune)
Thank you Jude. Thank you Jude.
You’re such a helpful dude. You’re such a helpful dude.
You tweak our servers to make them fast.
You’ve handled the traffic that we’ve amassed,
A now you’re the anchor of our Podcast.
Thank you Jude. Thank You Jude.
(Finally, at a gleeful shouting romp)
Head-Fi Meets. Head-Fi Meets.
Come in and have a seat. Come in and have a seat.
If you like music and sporty gear,
Then we’ve got the stuff you’ll like to hear,
And we’re ready to show it year after year, at
Head-Fi Meets. Head-Fi Meets.
Head-Fi Meets. Head-Fi Meets.
YEAH!
I propose we take a page out of "The Little Rascal's" book and carve a chunk of time out of the festivities next HeadFest and perform it. Whadda ya say!?
HeadFest Comic Can-Opera
Largely inspired by coastally displaced Floridian misadventure.
(Unless otherwise noted, the music is the theme song from “The Three Stooges,” you know it, “Three Blind Mice.” During performance it is customary that the parts be sung by constituent groups with audience participation by the contingents present.)
Head-Fi Meet, Head-Fi Meet
Flor – i – da, Flor – i – da
We schlep our gear to the conference room,
We do it so we can share our tunes,
We’re just a big bunch of headphone goons, we’re
Flor – i – da, Flor – i – da.
Flor – i – da, Flor – i – da
Head-Fi Meet, Head-Fi Meet
This morning our breath smelled like hotel eggs,
At noon cables dangled between our legs,
Tonight we’ll eat Sushi and drink from kegs, we’re
Flor – i – da, Flor – i – da
Meet is done, meet is done,
Now for some fun, now for some fun
We coil up our cables and close the meet.
Put boxes in cars and head into the heat.
We giddily waddle our flatland streets, we’re
Flor – i – da, flor – i – da
HEY! You guys. Hey, you guys!
What a big surprise. What a big surprise.
You’ve piles of gear and cables by yards
You normally post like hard-core bards
Get onto your laptops, unload those cards, cuz
WE WANT PIX! WE WANT PIX!
(The all goes quiet and we hear a tympany roll. Still “Three Blind Mice” but in the style of a basso sea shanty.)
New York lurks. New York lurks.
Darn those Florida jerks, darn those Florida jerks.
We’ll post in the morning and by week’s end
The line’s out the door and around the bend,
And soon we’lll have meets that never end, cuz
New York works, New York works.
(Then the music changes. After a short namby-pamby flute and harp introduction, we hear a light and meaningless refrain of Elizabethan parlor dance music. Think tall white wigs and 50 pound hoop dresses, and people doing a stately square-dancing-like thing.)
Weeeest Coast dudes like driving near the beach - and – oc - eans, (ting)
Waaaalking pace with bursts of fury calmed by our I – E – Ms. (honk)
Meeeeets so cool and joy - ous fill our Kar - ma a - gain. (Budhist gong)
Duuuude, please watch your yooo - gurt near my brand new R-10s. (splat!)
(Back to “Three Blind Mice”)
Our meets are big. Our meets are big.
Red Sox Rule! Red Socks Rule!
(then the next two lines in a heavy Boston accent.)
We live near the harbor and up down-east,
We slurp on our chowder and have a feast,
But our members are winners no doubt in the least, ‘cuz
Our meets are big. And Red Socks Rule!
What about us? What about us?
Fly over states. Fly over states.
Your sirens and traffic and stadium cheers,
Have gunked up your triodes and rattled your gear.
Look down from your planes and you’ll see we have ears.
Fly over states. Fly over states.
(Then the changes tune. The rhythm section slides in with a slow Chicago shuffle, think a mixture of “Peter Gun” and stripper music.)
Chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii- town. And De-troit.
Chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii- town. And De-troit.
Driving to meets we dodge the troopers and the stiiiiink of Gary … of Gary
(Side note: Gary is not a guy, but an Indiana industrial hell hole that you have to drive through between Chicago and Detroit.)
Chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii- town. And De-troit.
Chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii- town. And De-troit.
Next HeadFest here. Billy’s the man. We’ll all have fun. It’s going to be quite hairy… quite hairy.
(back to “Three Blind Mice” but in a very dumdy-diddly way.)
We are the mods. We are the mods.
Culturally sensitive squads. Culturally sensitive squads.
We’ll ban the trolls and axe dirty pix.
We’ll fill all your curse-words with asterisks.
We’ll lash you with lessons in Head-Fi civics. We’re
Head-Fi Mods. Head-Fi Mods.
(Now a drumroll quickly turns into a hard rock drum solo intro, and the “three Blind Mice” refrain begins ala AC/DC.)
TURN IT UP! TURN IT UP!
HEAD-FI ROCKS! HEAD-FI ROCKS!
(in a whisper) Then we’ll turn it down to save our ears.
(little louder) No brew will be spoiled by our salty tears.
(full-on sing) And we’ll keep our hearing for years and years. Cuz’
(Angus Young) HEAD-FI ROCKS! HEAD-FI ROCKS!
(Now the music completely changes to a big band hop sung like the Lennon Sisters)
Hey! Lookie there, no avatar, a post count of one.
The newb has no i-de-a that they’re in for some fun.
We’ll wrap our cans around their head and then they’ll be stung!
Sorry a-booouuut your wallet!
Back again with place of birth and postcount of two.
The box is in the corner and it’s covered with drool.
The disc is in, the tubes aglow, a grin like a fool,
Sorry a-booouuut your wallet!
A gear list in the signature and post count of three.
Photos of the pile of gear are posted with glee.
They’re staying up till 3 AM a tapping at keys.
Sorry a-booouuut your wallet!
An avatar, opinions, and a post count of four,
Go ahead and post again, we’ll roll on the floor,
It’s obvious that they don’t need reminding once more,
Sorry about your wallet!
(Back to “Three Blind Mice” but this time like the oppressing drumbeat of the guardsmen’s march in the wizard of OZ. You know: Oooo – eeeeee – um. EE – oooooooo – um.)
We’re the trade. We’re the trade.
You think we’ve got it made. You think we’ve got it made.
But we stand all day as we talk and greet,
We get out of bed and pain shoots from our feet.
But HeadFest is different and, oh, so sweet.
We’re the trade. We’re the trade.
(Back to a happy full-on Three Stooges version of the tune)
Thank you Jude. Thank you Jude.
You’re such a helpful dude. You’re such a helpful dude.
You tweak our servers to make them fast.
You’ve handled the traffic that we’ve amassed,
A now you’re the anchor of our Podcast.
Thank you Jude. Thank You Jude.
(Finally, at a gleeful shouting romp)
Head-Fi Meets. Head-Fi Meets.
Come in and have a seat. Come in and have a seat.
If you like music and sporty gear,
Then we’ve got the stuff you’ll like to hear,
And we’re ready to show it year after year, at
Head-Fi Meets. Head-Fi Meets.
Head-Fi Meets. Head-Fi Meets.
YEAH!
I propose we take a page out of "The Little Rascal's" book and carve a chunk of time out of the festivities next HeadFest and perform it. Whadda ya say!?
Can't wait... 
