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Martini Glambassador's avatar

Maybe he realized the error of his ways and has gone into the wilderness to live simply and repent? If we could all be so lucky.

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memzilla's avatar

Sadly, my friend of 50+ years, Jim, has joined the Choir Eternal.

Let me tell you a few things about him.

He was from Skokie, Illinois, which, at the time, had more Jews than Tel Aviv. It may still. Why is that important?

Well, like most good Chillun of the '70s, we did road trips. We both went to a small land college in a town which rhymes with Weeder Vapids. It was literally 300 miles from anywhere.

In his indigo blue Olds 442 V8 Hurst-shiftered cruiser we rode. To Kansas City, 300 miles, to pick up a trunk- and back seat-load of Coors Beer to resell at a heinous profit. (In case you don't know, in most of the US at the time you couldn't GET Coors, which added to its cachet -- and pricetag.)

To Minneapolis, also 300 miles, for a reliable herb connection which, again, we would resell at a heinous profit. Don't judge! The alternative was to smoke the locally available ditchweed, Iowana. While cheap, Iowana had mutated itself from years of generations of genetic horror from insecticides, pesticides, fertilizers, vermicides, asbestos from brake linings, and particulates from diesel engines into a throat-burning barely-high-inducing... thing.

We could only smoke Iowana in a humongous water pipe, to try and filter out some of the yuck. Of course, we named this 3-ft-tall, 1/2 gallon water capacity, 1/2 oz bowl-size pipe Phillip. Full name, Phillip D. Pipe.

But I digress.

Why was Jim's Jewishness important? Skokie Bakery is why. I would not have known of it otherwise.

Mmmm. Skokie Bakery. Also 300 miles away. (Yes, it was if someone had detonated a bomb over Weeder Vapids that created a 300-mile-wide circle of destruction which pushed everything interesting away that far.)

We would time our departure from Weeder Vapids to leave around 11 so we could arrive at the Skokie Bakery around dawn, just as the first racks of bagels and bialys were coming out of the ovens.

Mind you, this was Serious Bidness. Completely Orthodox. Everyone had the aprons, the white shirts with rolled-up sleeves, the kippas, the beards, the pais, the tzitzits -- this was like an operating room for creating kosher deliciousness.

We would get four dozen bagels, still warm, throw 'em in the back seat, and eat a dozen between us on the 5 1/2 hour trip back. And they were NOT FOR RESALE, let me stress that. They were SO GOOD we didn't even need butter or sour cream with 'em, we just inhaled them on the way back.

*pauses to wipe drool off of keyboard*

I may tell more tales of Jim and I at another time, including the time I rolled my Datsun 2000R convertible not only without killing us both, but recovered the two ounces of weed in the glovebox from QUITE LITERALLY underneath the noses of seven Pennsyltucky State Troopers.

But the Jim story I will end on is about his audiophility. This man could hear high- and low-end frequencies that only bats and whales could hear in nature, swear to Crom.

So naturally, he demanded only the finest in audio equipment to scratch this itch. Don't remember the brand names, other than the fact that the speakers were not Lesley Rotating Midhorns -- I heard one playing from the tenth floor of a U of I dorm and EVERYBODY looked up at it -- but I know he spent THOUSANDS on his setup. And this was in the early '70s, so multiply that by three? Five? Something like that.

The thing he was proudest of was his tonearm cartridge. I should say cartridge*s*. Let me tell you why it's plural.

Now while we unlettered yahoos were happy to put a penny on the tonearm to allegedly "get more sound" out of our LPs if we had to, cartridge be damned... not audiophiles like Jim.

I think the cartridge was manufactured under the name Decca. It cost about $1400 in 1972 dollars. What made it unique was that the needle itself -- which was made out of adamantium or unobtanium or some damn thing -- was connected by a thread made of platinum or lawrencium or something, at a precisely calibrated tension.

After about 1200 hours of play, the entire cartridge had to be sent back to the factory in England to have the cartridge get re-tensioned.

This entire process took about twelve to sixteen weeks to ship, fix, and ship back -- meaning, if you were a dedicated audiophile like Jim, you needed to buy *two* of them -- since one would always be in transition.

Now, what was Jim's day jerb? I'm glad you asked!

Jim worked at an audio store, which had a record store on the side.

Jim was tasked with selling audio equipment. This usually required cranking shit up to Spinal Tap Level 11 in order to make the sale. All day. Every day. Day after day.

So when Jim came home after a ear-clanging day at work, what do you think he most desired to hear on his multi-thousand dollar top-of-the-line audio utopia?

Was it the Beatles? The Stones? CCR? Perhaps Mozart as a change of pace?

Nope.

What Jim most desired after a hard day's work was... silence.

Silence.

Dear Jim, we had great times together and I'm glad you passed without much pain. I'll see you soon, man.

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