Mrs. Dallas passed this on from list for orchestra conductors. Some of them are pretty good.
> Squeaking and squawking
>
> All eyes roll to the heavens
>
> The clarinet speaks
>
> =====================
>
> One beat to change from
>
> Harmon to cup to bucket
>
> Hey, who wrote this s**t?
>
> =====================
>
> The jam session starts
>
> Somebody calls "Giant Steps"
>
> Cold fear grips my brain
>
> =====================
>
> Here's the girl singer
>
> Stepping to the microphone
>
> Pitch, Time, all gone now
>
> =====================
>
> Gig is going well
>
> Some one requests "In the Mood"
>
> I look at my watch
>
> =====================
>
> Gorgeous chick tells me
>
> "You sound just like Kenny G"
>
> My ego shatters
>
> =====================
>
> Three-eight, eleven-eight
>
> Damn you Andrew Lloyd Webber
>
> Five-eight, seven-eight
>
> =====================
>
> The woodwind doubler
>
> Practicing the piccolo
>
> Frustration defined
>
> =====================
>
> Pit orchestra gig
>
> Days and nights become as one
>
> I have no damn life
>
> =====================
>
> Bad intonation
>
> Strings are sharp and reeds are flat
>
> Brass too loud again
>
> =====================
>
> An oxymoron:
>
> "He plays the accordion
>
> With delicacy"
>
> =====================
>
> Bassoons forever
>
> Try in vain not to sound like
>
> A farting bedpost
>
> =====================
>
> The strings slowly tune
>
> When they're done the unison
>
>
>
>
> Are anything but
>
> =====================
>
> "I can't find my note"
>
> Bemoans the confused singer
>
> "Quit now", we all pray
>
> =====================
>
> ==================
>
> Money's everything
>
> Playing any gig that comes
>
> Whores, we are all whores
>
> =====================
>
> That plate of hors d'oeuvres
>
> Cost more than we're getting paid
>
> Think we underbid?
>
> =====================
>
> God bless trust fund gigs
>
> Only have to eat ramen
>
> For a few more weeks
>
> =====================
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