Bluetooth

The unfortunate truth...the sad truth really...is that Seemore had
become fat. He knew it. So did the crowd.

As he pulled over to the shoulder of I5 by Mercer Avenue...the red cop
light flashing in his mirror...he realized that the cell phone without
bluetooth ban had gone into effect a fortnight ago.

How symbolic. How apropos of nothing. How fucking perfect it all was.
Seemore...THE Seemore...reduced to an anachronism. A relic. A joke.

Jazz Alley. The home of the greats. McCoy Tyner played here. Elvin
Jones. Corea. Seemore looked at the one night Monday night timeslot,
then he looked at his empty wallet. Flyers littered the ground from the
sold out weekend double billing of Dave Koz and the Smooth Jazz all
stars.

O ye como va.

He hadn't seen an Arctic Circle in...hell...it had been years. Seemore
thought he remembered an article on the net that Arctic circle had been
subsumed by Kentucky Fried Chicken, which in turn had been bought by
Princess Cruise Lines, which everyone knew was principally owned by a
company with a major stake in diamond mines in Zimbabwe.

He could use some of those diamonds right now.

The question remained...where was the MUSIC!!?!!?? I mean its going on
sixty years now since the instrumentation has been guitar, guitar, bass,
drums. Is that going to be forever, or is it all going the way of Lute
playing. It all blended together in his pulsing migraine consciousness
like a mixolydian scale on repeat.

It didn't matter right now, he thought, as he slurped the remnants of
his new Carl's Jr. Cap'n Crunch milkshake. He was going home for a few
blessed hours of relief. With perhaps 50 more reps he was going to pass
the expert level of "Cliffs of Dover" on guitar hero. Throw that in
with some moderately good pot, and the veil becomes exceeding thin...