Thanksgiving Song

In this season of reflection on all the people and things that spark joy, I would like to acknowledge my eternal gratitude for the following:

In the course of buying and selling, The Audiophile does not collect. What I mean is, typically there is only one amp, one preamp, one set of speakers, one power thingy, and one or two other rectangles that do something critical in the overall experience of listening to a simple song.

Sure, gear comes in, but after a short A/B do-si-do, the gear goes back out. He does not have precariously balanced towers of audio stuff lurking behind closed doors or sleeping under old sheets in the attic—as far as I know, anyway. If I ever go to the attic and learn otherwise, I will cut eyeholes in all the sheets and play haunted music on a lo-fi boombox until The Audiophile cleans the place up.

Fortunately, the likelihood of this happening is extraordinarily low because our eHarmony compatibility chart basically states we are both obsessive compulsive with an unhealthy need to keep things nice and tidy. And clean. And symmetrical—which is a mighty fine character flaw when it comes to speaker placement.

TAW

The Candy Man

Here’s a story. Of a lovely lady. Who was roped into a date that was basically a two-hour listening session with a guy from Music City.

Now, this wasn’t just any guy, this was a dealer. Let’s call him The Candy Man, shall we? It’s difficult to know where to even start with this experience, so I will focus on the gloves, for starters.

Remember yesteryear when I carried on and on and then ON about being forced to use a SLIPPERY COTTON DIAPER to assist with speaker placement, so my filthy female hands didn’t eat through the veneer, and blow out a tweeter? Yeah, that, well when it was time for The Candy Man to swap out the speakers in this listening date of ours, he casually slipped on a pair of specially designed Speaker Moving Gloves as if it was no big thing. These gloves were obviously a gift Jeff Bezos thoughtfully brought back from space. They had a soft yet grippy surface. They fit like a glove. And, I saw absolutely no fear in The Candy Man’s eyes as he gracefully placed the Wolf von WangJangles into position without spilling a single drop of fluid from their midrange.

I believe I speak for audio wives near and far when I say this is all we want for Christmas. No, not the Wolf von WangJangles, THE GLOVES. We want the gloves and also all the other things we want including, but not limited to: a puppy.

TAW

Love Shack

Now that The Audiophile and I are both retired, every day is Friday. This means we can have date night on, dare I say, a Tuesday, LIKE CRAZY PEOPLE, if we want to.

Recently, on a Tuesday, we decided to be crazy and lazy, which meant date night would be held at home. Perfect. If the pandemic has taught us anything, it is that there is no reason to ever leave a house if it has wine and cheese and a high-fidelity sound system. Check, check and CHECK.

And speaking of check, I noticed The Audiophile was repeatedly checking his phone. Ahem, if I’m not mistaken, this violates Rule Numero Uno in the Date Night Code of Conducto book. But wait, there’s more… after I gave The Audiophile the universal raised-eyebrow signal for “turn off your phone,” he said the reason for obsessively looking at it was another audiophile was coming over to pick up a box. On date night.

I don’t know if this box contained audio gear, unmarked hundos, or kittens, but The Audiophile wisely put the box on our front porch with a love note. Then he turned off his phone and all the inside lights to make it look like we were away on a real date. And now that I think about it, I’m wondering if this was all just a ruse to ensure date night required candles along with that wine and cheese and high fidelity.

TAW