I got a tape for you to hear Sonboy. I got a tape you’ll hear to make you decide.
Mom. That’s great but I don’t need help—I—
Yes here sit down it’s short hear it out here.
Her finger jabbed in starting it coming. It came. It said, The last but not least dimension of anyone’s ascension to virtuoso-level sax playing, is the patterned pushing so fast it seems random but each push has a purpose a name and a meaning and more and more to it, depending on how deeply into the documentation you dare to delve—
Mom. I don’t see. I—
—thirty-two keys stud the body of each sax; nine fingers are used to press the sax keys, and that in itself is easy to conceptualize. Here’s a finger, the first of ten. There’s the keys baby, so press one any one; there’s the cards baby, so pick one anyone; look at it remember what key it was—
Mom I can’t follow this. And—I never said I wanted saxophone.
But I never—
—tear the card from the sax put it on the table and remember which key it was; look at it remember what card it was put it face down on the table and remember which card it was; do this for each and every key until none are left and there are thirty-two torn off keys from the now-unusable sax lying on the table—
Sorry but I don’t get it.
Maybe if you stopped resisting you would. Hush.
—do this for each and every card until none are left and there are fifty two picked-out cards from the now-nonexistent deck not anywhere anyplace anymore; now take the sax to a sax repair man and he will charge five hundred dollars on average to restore the sax to playing condition; now take the deck to anyone at all who knows what a deck of cards is—
Cards. Mom, I never have been interested in—cards.
Sonboy shut up and let it come.
—and he will charge nothing on average to pull all fifty two cards back together into a usable deck; now here’s the bottom-line cost-benefit analysis—it’s not really that but that sounds pretty impressive; this has cost the sax player five hundred dollars; this has cost the card player nothing. And the added benefit tipping the argument to cards is that the card deck can be restored by the potential card player themselves.
Thank God is that the end—This shows—my God there’s more? Mom.
—that in the final analysis, any logically impassive mechano-person to whom such numerical decision-making holds appeal, should forget sax—
Mom I never said I wanted to play the saxophone Mom. Mom—
—and take up one or more of the hundreds of table games which are based on a deck of cards, or take up some other non-game related pastime that nonetheless uses a deck of cards, such as magic, making bicycles sound like motorcycles—which also requires a big box of wooden spring-style clothespins, building houses of cards, constructing card bridges, making balls of cards, doing origami, making card boxes, or attempt to match the cardistry skills of Dan and Dave. Their most holy. Good-bye—and may you enjoy a profitable day!
Her finger jabbed out stopping it going. She turned to.
Sonboy, hey! Sonboy get back in here right now!
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