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.”

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