COMING TO THIS THEATER SOON

PREVIEW

THE WORLD’S FIRST TRUE INTERACTIVE
ANIMATED R-RATED VINYLMANIAC SCI-FI
ACTION ADVENTURE SERIES FROM THE NTH
DIMENSION OF MUSIC HYPER SPACE™


Coney Island Dreams

STEEPLECHASE JACK™
ASKS:

WHAT’S IN THE GROOVE?

A HYPERDIMENSIONAL SPECULATION ON
THE NATURE OF GROOVOSITY
&
THE CREATION OF A NEO-CLASSICAL EXISTENTIALISM

"I GROOVE, THEREFORE I AM"

CREATED BY
Dr. Harvey "Gizmo" Rosenberg
© Copyright, 2,000, Harvey "Gizmo" Rosenberg.
No portions of this may be reproduced without express permission

ENJOY THE SAMPLE TASTE OF THE UPCOMING ADVENTURE

 

 

CHAPTER ONE:

CONTACT AGAIN AT KATZ’S DELI

FORWARD BUTTON: It is not easy being me, and few in our community realize the depth of my pain and suffering while I explore the edge of the audio arts. As you know I am periodically contacted by music aliens, which adds another dimension of chaos to my life while I explore the inherent chaos of audio systems.

I am asking you to just give this piece a chance because it has to meander before it will arrive at an answer to question, "What is in the groove?"

In the middle of January there was a flu epidemic all over America, and in spite of getting a flu shot in September, I was getting that aching feeling all over that accompanies the flu. One morning while I was taking a shower I noticed that my belly button was inflamed and painful so I went to see my family physician Dr. Ahuja.

On the examination table, with his light, the doctor looked into my belly button and took a cotton swab and poked around, and then went to his drawer and took out tweezers and very carefully inserted into my belly button and extracted a small piece of metal, and said..."I don’t know how that got in there...probably from your shop work.... but you’ve got an infection". He then put some antibiotics ointment in my belly button, gave me some pills...and that was that. But as I was leaving his office I stopped because I had this nagging feeling and asked him, if I could use his microscope for just one minute....I wanted to look at the very tiny piece of metal he extracted.

When I got home I typed in the email address I saw embossed on the tiny piece of metal when it was magnified 200X on Dr. Ahuja’s microscrope and wrote:

"What do you want? Dr. Gizmo". One minute later I received, "Please meet me at Katz’s Deli on Thursday at 9PM".

I have previously reported that Katz’s Deli on Houston Street in New York City (this is the deli that coined the expression during WWII..Send a Salami To Your Boy In The Army) is a major "sub-entry port" for aliens, and if you don’t believe me just go there and sit at a table and check out who is sitting all around you.

What is so shocking about my reports of "contact" with aliens is that they are so contrary to what the "tabloid " media reports. So let me repeat what I have learned:

Aliens are millions of times smarter than humans, are HARMLESS, and because they are so boring they are doing everything in their power to exploit humans. They actually take on human form and then interact with us so that we create more fun...for them to enjoy. Because this will be difficult for most to understand and threatening to almost all humans let me use the example of cheese: Humans love cheese, but can’t make it, so what we do is exploit living bacteria by depositing it in milk and we force them to make the cheese we love to eat. That is exactly what aliens are doing with humans...they create these really interesting "contexts’ and give us some very exciting "technology" because they know we will make "cheese", or as we would say...fun...for them to enjoy.

So let me repeat this point...aliens are harmless, very smart, incredibly nerdy, boring creatures with very bad breath who are desperate for some fun..and their advanced civilization is dying from boredom. Just consider this question. How desperate do you have to be to travel millions of light years in the hopes partying with creations that are 99% ape?

Scientists have the biggest problem accepting aliens because they have these propeller heads have biggest egos when it comes to smarts. The idea that there are alien "propeller heads" that are smarter than their propeller heads is a real problem for them....and let’s face it...there is an issue of territoriality here: scientists want to believe that they are the nerdiest, and resent that aliens are even nerdier. Can you blame scientists for being in denial about aliens?

Aliens also have the whole space travel/time/space paradox figured out...but what good is all of those smarts if you are dying of boredom? Why do aliens prefer America to all other countries? According to their leader Jack...."Barbecue, rock and roll, amusement parks, hot rods, deli, dumb blondes, and trailer parks are some of their favorite fun in the cosmos". Did you know that no other planet in the cosmos has trailer parks with plastic flamingos?

Again because you may have trouble explaining this to your friends....It is possible to play dance music and not know how to dance. The man who invented the camera may not be a great photographer...so you can now understand better understand this alien paradox: aliens, who find "fun" alien, need humans to help them have a good time. According to my alien friend Steeple Chase Jack, "fun" is a social attribute of tree dwelling primates, and because 99% of human DNA is ape DNA we are born to have fun.

Let me help you with another way to relate to this paradox: try to imagine the nerdiest most uncool boy and girl you had in your high school...someone with the personality zing of Jell-O fruit salad. Now multiply that by negative number to the tenth power and you are almost in the alien nerd personality ballpark, which is why I hate hanging out with them...though they tell me some great stories.

Want the answer to the question of why most American haven’t made "contact" with aliens? For the same reason you didn’t make contact with your local high school nerd/propeller heads....they were too embarrassed to make social contact with really cool dudes like you.

PAUSE BUTTON: I have been encouraging the young men of our tribe to open their own Triode Guild Sperm Bank Branch for lots of good reasons, but the transcendent one is that it is important to preserve the gene pool of men who are passionate about music quality, because we are rapidly becoming an endangered species in the digital dumbing down of the music industry. I also believe that young men must learn to serve their community, and anyone who works to escalate the musical awareness of his tribe is doing a valuable service.

FORWARD BUTTON: Why do I bring this up? When I finally met the leader of the aliens, Steeple Chase Jack, he presented me with a very disgusting proposal. He pleaded with me to have sex with one of their "breeders". Can any of you imagine what it would be like to have sex with a 200 pound glob of translucent green pond slime filled with fruit salad?

"Why me" I asked to be polite....

Jack who was now talking with a James Bond accent...." We entered your apartment last week and made a small withdrawal from The Triode Guild Sperm Bank and then we took a sample of your blood (pointing to my belly button) and we tested both. We discovered that you have exactly the right grooves in your DNA that we need".

"Groovy DNA...what the hell does that mean?", I asked.

"Well, it means that we can tell that you have lots of important vinyl wisdom in your genes from the 1970s when you were experimenting with alien cartridges systems, and we want that skill passed on to our culture so we can enjoy our vinylmania. All that I am asking is that you have sex just once with one of our breeders...so we can implant your wisdom in our culture...what’s the big deal...it vouldn’t hurt?".

PAUSE BUTTON: Did I mention that the music aliens are buying up all of our vinyl records and are listening to them as they travel for millions of light years between the galaxies? This makes sense to any higher form music intelligence, and I don’t blame them for wanting to experiment with alien cartridge systems while trapped in those "space Winnebagos" for millions of light years.

FORWARD BUTTON: Quite frankly I was confused. Now when I looked into Jack’s eyes I saw a sadness...... I could feel his pain..the kind of pain I felt oozing from the nerds in Lynbrook High School......but on the other hand....I have enough trouble having sex with human super models....sex is so boring, repetitive and predictable...compared to the audio arts or a really cool car.....the idea of having sex with a horny ten foot tall glob of quivering alien pond scum did not turn me on, so I said,

"I need some time to clear my head, and make a decision...I’ll contact you in about a week", and then Steeple Chase Jack said..."Wait here one minute" and I saw him shuffle to the counter and order a sandwich and shuffle back to the table, and he put a double high hot steaming lean corned beef sandwich down in front of me and sat down.

"Gizmo, inhale deep.....just smell that".

PAUSE BUTTON: Like I said, aliens are smarter than humans and Jack could read my mind and knew that the steamy perfume that surges out of the hot pores of lean pastrami affects my mind in the same way that 1,000 milligrams dose of Sandoz LSD affects my mind.

FORWARD BUTTON:"Okay, but here’s the deal. I want something from you in return, and I know you can do it"...and I could tell by his smile, that he knew exactly what I wanted and he would grant me my wish. As he reached into his pocket I noticed the shoulders of his black Triode Guild T-Shirt was covered with dandruff expect it was a silver powder....and he handed me a slip of paper with an address on it.....and it said "Steeple Chase Roller Coaster/Coney Island". Have you every been to Steeple Chase Park in Coney Island or a gigantic amusement park?

CHAPTER THREE

DOING MY DUTY AT STEEPLE CHASE PARK IN WINTER

FORWARD BUTTON: As I left Katz’s Deli I tried to imagine what was in store for me....how was I going to have sex with an alien breeder who is a gigantic slab of Jell-O fruit salad....at the Steeple Chase in Coney Island. Was I going to have to jump off a diving board into a gigantic bowl of quivering Jell-O that would engulf me, suck me dry and then expel me? How does a human male have sex with another life form that doesn’t have sex organs? How does an alien life form use my "vinyl DNA" to transmit it into their system of intelligence.

And then as a cold wind blew up Houston Street I realized that it was in the middle of winter, Coney Island was all closed down, and the Steeple Chase was demolished forty years ago....Ron Serling...are you listening?

My brain was in such turmoil that I just went home and listened to some of my favorite 78s.

That night I had a very strange dream. It was filled with the weirdest sound mix I ever heard...street sounds, sounds of the jungle, all kinds of American pop music , church bells ringing, carousel sounds, airplane engines, train whistles, rock and roll and classical music all mixed together, the sounds of ball parks and parades with voices speaking and singing in many different languages...it was like a rap music from outer space, and at the end of the dream a big flat smiling face appeared and asked me if I wanted any sauerkraut on my frank.

The next day at 11:37 AM the Fed Ex man showed up and gave me a package. In it was a watch and a T-shirt....of the smiling face in my dream, with a note that said..."This Saturday at noon I will meet you at Steeple Chase. Jack". These were not just any dreams... They were Coney Island Dreams.

I started to look through my old files...files buried very deep...and I found the picture of the nuvistor tube power supply for my Winn strain gauge cartridge. I couldn’t find any of the pictures of my Stax FM cartridge, but I did find a picture of my nuvsitor head amp for moving coil cartridges, and then the phone range ....and I was late for a business meeting so I ran out the door....

PAUSE BUTTON: The car I drive does not have any heat because it is a restored experimental military vehicle that I designed for NATO in the 1970s, but that doesn’t matter...I have a very warn ‘arctic" goose down parka and I use my "electric" motorcycle cycle clothing which plugs into the a cigarette lighter and keeps me very toasty warm. On Saturday morning at the end of January in Stamford Connecticut it was 10 degrees with a wind chill factor of minus twenty and Coney Island is right on the water so I was dressed for frost bite with silk underwear, silk turtle neck, and lots of layers of polypropylene shirts.

FORWARD BUTTON: At 11:30 AM when I pulled into the parking lot, Coney Island was completely deserted and it was a cold gray day with an icy wind coming off the ocean. The parking attended was bundled up so heavily he looked like an Eskimo.

I started to walk where Steeple Chase Park was once located, but now it is a huge empty lot with a fence around it, and then I saw what looked like a guard’s house attached to the fencing and I walked towards it. I looked in the window and it was empty, and I noticed that the insides were in a shambles and littered with vinyl records so I reached for the door knob and the door opened and I stepped inside, and looked around, and there was another door leading to the big open deserted lot and I tried the handle and it opened and I stepped into the lot, and .......

"Hey Gizmo"........I am looking at Jack’s big smiling shit eating grin and it is a warm early summer day and Steeple Chase Park is in all of its glory, jam packed with children running around, thousands of people and all the noises and perfume of Coney Island and the sea breezes mixed with cotton candy and frankfurters and candy apples are merging with the blinking lights, and the shoving crowd, the music of carousels, calliopes...and I look at all of the people who are.....who are dressed like it is 1948...and it is 1948, and Jack grabs my arm and says...

"Come on Gizmo, there is someone dying to meet you" and he leads me through the crowd and I notice what weird shoes people are wearing and the strange hairdos the women are wearing and how there isn’t a thin waist line...and then a blaze light fills my eyes....the kind of light that fills our eyes when we rarely encounter an earth angel........and there in front of me is twenty three year old Rita Hayworth...Rita Hayworth in her prime as a young starlet...radiating the shining silver screen in her smile and oozing the ooze that only she oozed....and she is wearing a cream colored skirt blowing in the breeze, white and brown shoes, an almost transparent silk blouse. Her red hair swings about her shoulders, her moist lipstick is redder than a candy apple and she runs up to me and gives me a big hug and her two hard buttons break open my heart. I breathe deep her perfume and I roller coaster down into the basement of my trembling thighs and as she is hugging me.... puts her tongue in my ear and wiggles it around and whispers....."Let’s groove" . She leads me and I follow just like her obedient puppy and I see Jack’s big smiling face......he yells out " Bye bye Gizmo have a good trip...see you soon".

PAUSE BUTTON: By now we both know that the aliens are doing a major thing on my mind because they have the power to move back and forth through time and space so it is now obvious to all of us that they were zapping my mind because they wanted me to breed....but while this was happening...let me assure you that I felt Rita Hayworth’s young hard nipples against my chest and smelled her aroma that melted me and her skin was creamier than the best fresh whipped cream you ever tasted....so in the moment I wasn’t thinking anything other than...BE HERE NOW WITH A VERY HOT PERFECTLY RIPE RITA HAYWORTH WHO WANTS TO GROOVE. Did I stop and say..."Golly Gee, what a weird hallucination....this is all an illusion and the "thing" that is hot for me is a big glob of green disgusting Jell-O fruit salad". Absolutely not, because, my old shrink Hal always told that when I have experiences like this...just go with flow...you never know where you will go...so BE HERE NOW. What would you do if you were in that situation...you know where to email me?

FORWARD BUTTON: Rita had her hand around my waist and pointed up at the roller coaster as it creeped upward, climbed, and it slowed as it got to its peak. Then it paused and plunged filled with voices screaming, lurching around each bend...the clacking of the wheels, the screams of the people and the whoosh of the cars passed us by....and then it all came to a halt and everyone got out and blazing Rita took me by the hand and lead to the first seat. The man who was taking tickets knew her and just waved us on. As we got into our seat I noticed a small crowd of men in powder blue gabardine suits were...they were all wearing the same suit...and they were getting in the roller coaster cars behind us...and then.... Benny Goodman.... walks up to me, looks me right in the eye, smiles and says..."Hi Gizmo...enjoy the groovy ride", and jumps into the seat right behind us, and as I turn around I see the entire Benny Goodman band with their instruments are taking a roller coaster ride with Rita and me...and the roller coaster starts moving.

And as I look at Rita whose red hair is ablaze in the summer sun Benny’s band starts playing and we are climbing to his music, and Rita bends over and kisses me and forces my mouth open with her delicious Hollywood starlet tongue braced with the joy of Wrigley chewing gum as her hand reaches down and unzips my fly and with on graceful dance movement she is sitting on top of me, facing me, her knees up against my chest...her hands around my shoulders...her tongue, the snake of wisdom is telling me that this will be a roller coaster ride I will never forget as Benny Goodman’s band plays on...and we are climbing and I am melting into Rita Hayworth’s fire mound....and we keep getting higher and higher, and then....we are plunging through space and the G-forces of the cosmos is pushing me deeper and deeper into her delta of eternity.... we are on auto pilot to oblivion...the Mississippi is flowing into the Nile.... we are being crushed into each other, and her arms around me are squeezing me tighter and tighter into her. I am a tube of raw sienna paint being squeezed out into a divine unity and Benny Goodman is grooving...and I open my eyes...and we are, me, Rita and the entire Benny Goodman Band are roller coastering through the stars.......and I look down at the earth.....I am free of gravity, and am craving, with a hunger as large as the cosmos, a frank with French fries and a beer.

As the roller coaster comes to a rest, the ticket taker throws the big lever and the safety railing lift and we all got out...Benny and his band just smiled and waved good bye. Rita, who had a beautiful glow, just took my hand and we walked away....and there was Jack waiting for us...with his big smile......and he asked...

"Did you guys have fun?...Thanks Gizmo...we knew we could count on you...you always come through in a squeeze, and now your wish will come true...because you........ can count on us".

PAUSE BUTTON: Contrast what happened to me on that Steeple Chase roller coast to the depiction of aliens in the movies and tabloid press. Steeple Chase Jack knew I was frightened about mating with one of their breeders so did he harm me, or force me, or violate me? No. He did just the opposite, he created absolutely the most perfect "donor" experience for me...one that I might add, I would be glad to repeat almost every other day...and then, I thought about what Jack created on a deeper level. You know how guys like to share the "high" moments of their sexual life. Can anyone tell me a sexual episode that is groovier than making love to Rita Hayworth on a roller coaster that is zooming through outerspace while Benny Goodman’s band plays on?

I can’t be the only one who has had this experience. Email and let me know about your experience. It is terrifying to think that I am the only one who had this type of experience.

TO BE CONTINUED

 

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