In the beginning there was silence. Then God whistled. He whistled one whole note each day for seven days, and thus was the universe created, and also the musical scale. When God whistled, it wasnt the way we whistle. It was a really big, really loud, perfectly toned whistle that moved at the speed of light and created planets and civilizations in the wake of its vibrations. And God listened after the seventh note and heard that it was good. And He said, Damn, I like that tune.

So he put on his headphones and lay back and grooved on the sounds and echoes of the universe ringing with feedback from the first solo. For millions of eons, He grooved, until one day He got up, took off the headphones, and said, This riff is getting stale, and no one is dancing. But that was because He hadnt created anyone yet, and realizing this, He said, Let there be Negroes with funky souls who can shimmy and sway to my sounds, and there were.

But the Negroes just couldnt get into the same old scale over and over, so they said to God, Hey, give us some one-four-five blues-type progressions so we can get down, and He did. And it was good. And they jammed and danced and sang naturally and with carefree abandon for millions and millions of years.

Some of the Negroes, however, werent into that scene. They preferred to sit in the shade reading books about math and science and other boring subjects while their brothers danced and played and made love in the sun. Because He considered them indolent, God took away their fine skin color and made them into white men.

As this peculiar sect of white Negroes developed, they gradually lost their ability to dance and be free and natural with their bodies and they gave birth to withered, colorless babies, many of whom grew up to be accountants, lawyers, real estate brokers, and politicians, and then it was 1950. God looked around and saw He had to do something before it was too late, so He created rock music.

And the skinny, withered, colorless babies of the accountants, lawyers, real estate brokers, and politicians of the fifties plucked their guitars, banged on their tambourines, and wailed into the void and became the superstars of the eighties. And God saw what He had created and put his headphones back on and said, Fuck it.

DONT MAKE ME COME DOWN THERE !!!
— God