300bps n,8,1 lyrics

Artist  : Information society 
Song : 300bps n,8,1
 
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So we’re supposed to play in curitiba in 18
hours, but our bus is being held hostage by the
local promoters. they’ve formed some unholy
alliance with the brazilian counterpart of ascap:
the prs.
Rently the prs has the legal power to arrest
people, and they want a piece of the national
tour promoter’s money. the local security force,
"gang mexicana", has been bought out
for 180
Zados and a carton of marlboros each. the only
faction still operating in our defense is
"big john", our personal security man,
and he’s hiding in his room because a local gang
is out
Is blood because of a 1982 knifing incident in
which he was involved. our 345-pound road
manager, rick only had this to say: "you
wanted the life of a rock star!". paul, jim
and I real
That this was one situation we were going to have
to get out of ourselves.


We convened a hasty conference in the hotel
lobby. paul suggested contacting our national
tour promoter in sao paulo, but we remembered
that he was in recife with faith no more, who had
just arr
For their brazilian tour. we thought about
contacting our brazilian record company in rio,
but they weren’t home. our ever-diligent american
manager was arranging help of numerous forms, but
he
N new york, and just too far away to get anything
moving in time.


And there were 6000 kids in curitiba who just
wouldn’t understand.


We knew it was time for action. paul went up to
the prs guys and invited them into the bar to
discuss it like civilized men over a few
brazilian drinks, offering each of them a cigar
on his way.
Amused prs heavies seemed to like the idea of a
few free drinks, even if they knew they would
never give us our bus back. when paul winked at
jim and I on his way in, we went into action.


I stole off to my room to prepare while jim went
into action. creeping carefully through a service
duct, he managed to gain a vantage point some
three meters above the bus, and dropped
carefully
The roof. after using his all-purpose swiss army
knife (affectionately known as the "skit
knife") to jimmy open the roof hatch, he
went through the darkened inside of the bus and
remo
He inside engine service panel. using some spare
electronic parts he found while on an island in
the amazon, he wired the entire bus for remote
control, not unlike a remote control toy car.


At this point, he asked himself "now how
shall I get out of here? !? "


Paul was having difficulties of his own.


"couldn’t you see your way clear to letting
us fulfill our contractual obligations in
curitiba? think of the kids!"


Through our translator, fabio, the prs man, aldo,
said:


"no. you americans think you own the world.
hah! we’ll burn down our rain forest if we damn
well please. we need room for cows!! we want a
mcdonald’s on every... oh, sorry, yes anyway,
no.
Ed 40% of your concert receipts to give to david
bowie," he said, winking to the local
promoter, phillipe.


As paul continuted this elaborate distraction,
jim effected an escape from the heavily guarded
bus by crawling down into the cargo bay, cutting
a hole in the floor with the swiss army knife’s
ar
Der, slipping into the manhole cover situated
under the bus, and walking up to the hotel’s
basement from there. jim called up to me in my
room and gave the signal. we were now to meet at
the bac
Rance, with our tech guys. but first, paul would
need some help getting away from his unwelcome
guests, as things were getting ugly.


"he says he has lost his patience, and that
he can think of other ways of extracting payment
from you kurt and jim physically," our
trembling interpreter said.


The moment had come. jim began operating the bus
from his back entrance vantage point. as the
remote-controlled bus lurched towards the parking
lot exit, the superstitious security youths fled
i
Ror. paul was pulling anxiously on his collar as
the prs man began describing his collection of
world war ii nazi ceremonial knives when a sudden
crash split the tableau.


Jim had purchased me the gift of a complete black
ninja stealth assassin outfit in aracaju. I had
been gearing up and crawling through the air
conditioning ducts all this time. as I crashed
thro
He cheap imitation-styrofoam hung ceiling tiles,
skates first, I flashed ninja stars all about me.
in the ensuing panic, paul escaped to the
pre-arranged bus pick-up point. unfortunately, my
ska
Ere a poor choice of foot gear for escaping over
the broken glass of the table I had landed on.
were it not for the confusion and the
ninja-star-inflicted-wounds delivered to the bad
guys, I wou
Ve been set upon while floundering on the
glass-strewn carpet. as it happened, however, I
leapt through the open door of the careening bus
as it departed the city of maringa forever.


If only we had managed to get our equipment in
the bus, too . . .


Every word of this story is true.


- kurt h



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