But not just xylophones. There's the tintinnabulations of Edgar Alan Poetry and the melodious ribs of old-timey cartoon skeletons.And you—yeah you—don't turn that dial! To paraphrase Bill Hicks, there's a purple vein Priapus ditty coming soon. ((As much as I hate Joe Rogan parroting, his errant, approaching-speech-impediment-levels-of-praise for Bill Hicks and Norm Macdonald isn’t without societal benefits.))Greek dick jokes to larboard.First, a confession: I'm musically illiterate. My fault, sure, but mnemonics did me no favors. (“Johnny Mnemonic” reference, something-something, drawing a blank.)E. Start there, at the bottom, and ascend the alphabet a space and a line at a time until G, then it's back to A. Instead of that, back when I was in band, we deciphered upturned FACEs and mantra-ed “Every Good Boy Does Fine.” “Elvis's Guitar Broke Down Friday” would've stuck better, but our first director was a Beatles guy. Feel free to coin your own. ((“Engorged Gremlin Bondage Drips…
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