Sunday, May 8, 2011

It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it

Any of you who follow my blog know that it impacts not only your life, but the lives of many others. There are in fact, three dedicated followers to this blog, proudly listed on the right sidebar. It is for them and for the faceless masses that I must continue to produce sounds. In case there are any naysayers out there that think that Bono and I can't change the world with music, here are some graphs to prove my point:

There you have it.  Collected by Google herself.

Oh wait, that one doesn't have the axis label.  Here you go:

Impressive, eh?  But wait, there's more.  It's not just the job seekers that I care about, it's the eaters, too.  Or, more correctly, the eat-seekers, since not everyone is able to acquire food to eat successfully.  See for yourself:

Now you're asking, how do I ensure that people do virtuous and effective things with the energy provided by the food from oprahsfavoritedeathmetal?  Easy: a worldwide network of cameras feeding information about everyone's actions back to a central positronic brain that controls us all like puppets.

Here's a list of other things that have taken place since (and likely because of) the beginning of Uncle Reeree's Music Blog:
-Mimi got an A in Calculus
-the World Cup
-Somebody in England got married
-the Olympics
-the government decided shutting down was a bad idea
-no world-crushing meteors
-India beat Pakistan in cricket

We will stop there.  Point made.  In some small way, the sounds that flow out of the internet and into your ear buds are the butterfly wings that continue to stave off eminent destruction.  The inadvertent twitch of your rump as you listen to "Rumble and Bounce" just made somebody decide to get a smoothie instead of raiding a peasant village.  So, carry on, my children.  Your work is as important as mine.

Brownie recipe found during monkey brain vivisection by are.kay.more

1 comment:

  1. Haha!! Positronic brian!! You geek!!

    I actually really like this one. It sounds like something that my dad would randomly put on the turntable.