The organist was having his annual ‘Whoop-it-up-
once-a-year’ party with the other church
organists, when he came across a musician’s-only
He had heard rumours about this exclusive
club and thought that they should check it out.
They entered and after a thorough security check
(Musician’s Union), were told of the club’s
unique format. “In this club, our guests have the
choice of parties they may wish to attend. Each
door has a number on the front corresponding to
the intelligence quotient of the participants
inside.” They were all suitably impressed.
“Maybe this time we might finally meet some
people we can talk to.” they mused. The first
door that they came across said room 150.
Inside, they found Phillip Glass, Harry Somers
and R. Murray Schafer having a
lively debate on whether John Cage had some
good ideas or not. “Too stuffy.” they thought.
The next room was room 100. Inside they found
brass quintets, woodwind quintets and people of
their own instrument species generally having a
happy time. “Nice,” they thought, “but not our
kind of people.” Finally, they came to room 50.
Inside, they found two long-haired guys in
leather sitting on regular bar stools. “Who are
you?” asked the organist. “We’re drummers, man.
We were told to make you feel welcome.”