Friday, August 19, 2011

First comes spring and summer, but then we have fall and winter. And then we get spring and summer again

We are simple hunter-gatherer folk in New Zealand, attuned to the timeless rhythms of the soil and to the subtle cues by which the adept forager tracks down Nature's bounty. So we do not much mind the southerlies last week, and the torrential rain, for we know that wet soil and thunderstorms are always followed soon after by a bumper crop of pianos such as will stave off starvation until Spring.
Pray do not ask us to explain the overnight apparition of musical instruments, for we b'aint be having the scientifical book-learning that they be teaching the young-uns at the Academy. We are content to know the when and the where. If pressed we will hum and haw and shuffle our brogued feet and mutter some vitalist, pre-scientific nonsense about mycelia permeating the soil.*

The hoity-toity savants from the Academy in their fine robes are free to scoff. They would have us believe that pianos don't sprout, they fall from the sky during thunderstorms and meteor showers and embed themselves in the soil. Next they will be telling us that Fernyture is really made in factories.
The piano is classified under 314.122 in the Hornbostel-Sachs system.** So far I am unable to ascertain the number for horns in the Pianobostel-Sachs classification.

* Celia was never the same after the Equinox Mudfest.
** Making it a chordophonegus.

15 comments:

mikey said...

Well do I understand the value of the simple farmer to society, toiling day in and day out from sunrise to sunset to plant and grow and nurture and finally harvest the chairs and tables and shelves and even those counterweighted stands we use to hold our flatscreen teevees in an upright position.

But let us not forget the unsung heroes of the furniture farm, the nearly naked ice-skater who is committed to testing each newly harvested piece for function and comfort. Clad only in the most boring and conservative underpants, these dedicated souls test hundreds of variations of chairs and tables in between toe loops, lutzes and salchows.

It is a sight to behold, and we, as a nation dedicated to spending our days and nights sitting on our asses, are grateful....

Substance McGravitas said...

It's the harvesting I don't understand. Once you've filled your bucket with pianos you have a very flat bucket and the pianos fall out.

tigris said...

Maybe it's like organ harvesting and they use something sturdier such as a bath tub.

ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®© said...

I think the piano-gatherers strap them to their bicycles.
~

zombie rotten mcdonald said...

Can't fool me.

Obviously that is a triggered zombie trap. Looks to me like it fell from about thirty feet.

M. Bouffant said...

Across the equator, the simple farmers of Texas have been domesticating some of the native growth.

M. Bouffant said...

Here be actual photographs, rather than mere illustrations of chair (or door) growth.

Big Bad Bald Bastard said...

Obviously that is a triggered zombie trap

I didn't know zombies were so musical!

tigris said...

How does the trap know if the zombie has been triggered?

Smut Clyde said...

I suspect that a gin-trap would be more effective.

ckc (not kc) said...

In July the sun is hot
Is it shining?
No, it's not!

ckc (not kc) said...

Freezing, wet December - then
Bloody January again!

Mentis Fugit said...

B^4: I didn't know zombies were so musical!

Like a mouse organ?

Smut Clyde said...

mere illustrations of chair (or door) growth.

Earlier stage of door development.

fish said...

Mouse organs are too small. You eat them for hours, and you are still hungry.