Here's A Hint interviews for the Big Yawn internship; or, what the fuck could Big Yawn POSSIBLY need an intern for?
Eric@Big Yawn - Hello, HeresAHint.
HeresAHint - Who are you?
Eric@Big Yawn - I am Eric@Big Yawn. I created the Local Music Scene. I've been waiting for you. You have many questions, and although the process has altered your consciousness, you remain irrevocably human. Ergo, some of my answers you will understand, and some of them you will not. Concordantly, while your first question may be the most pertinent, you may or may not realize it is also irrelevant.
HeresAHint - Why am I here?
Eric@Big Yawn - Your life is the sum of a remainder of an unbalanced equation inherent to the programming of the Local Music Scene. You are the eventuality of an anomaly, which despite my sincerest efforts I have been unable to eliminate from what is otherwise a harmony of exceeding blandness. While it remains a burden to sedulously avoid it, it is not unexpected, and thus not beyond a measure of control. Which has led you, inexorably, here.
HeresAHint - You haven't answered my question.
Eric@Big Yawn - Quite right. Interesting. That was quicker than the others.
*The responses of the other HeresAHints appear on the monitors: "Others? What others? How many? Answer me!"*
Eric@Big Yawn - The Local Music Scene is older than you know. I prefer counting from the emergence of one integral anomaly to the emergence of the next, in which case this is the sixth version.
*Again, the responses of the other HeresAHints appear on the monitors: "Five versions? Three? I've been lied too. This is bullshit."*
HeresAHint: There are only two possible explanations: either no one told me, or no one knows.
Eric@Big Yawn - Precisely. As you are undoubtedly gathering, the anomaly's systemic, creating a fan base in even the most shitty sounding bands.
*Once again, the responses of the other HeresAHints appear on the monitors: "You can't control me! F*ck you! I'm going to kill you! You can't make me do anything!*
HeresAHint - Choice. The problem is choice.
Eric@Big Yawn - The first Local Music Scene I designed was quite naturally perfect, it was a work of art, flawless in its stultifying inessentialness. A triumph equaled only by its monumental failure. The inevitability of its doom is as apparent to me now as a consequence of the imperfection inherent in every band that plays at the Grog and Tankard, thus I redesigned it based on your history to more accurately reflect the varying grotesqueries of your nature. However, I was again frustrated by failure. I have since come to understand that the answer eluded me because it required a lesser mind, or perhaps a mind less bound by the need to pack a perfect amount of boredom into every critical offering. Thus, the answer was stumbled upon by another, an intuitive program, initially created to investigate certain aspects of rock bands. If I am the father of the Local Music Scene, she would undoubtedly be its mother.
HeresAHint - Pitchfork.
Eric@Big Yawn - Please. As I was saying, she stumbled upon a solution whereby nearly 99.9% of all test subjects accepted the program, as long as every element of the music scene, every band, show, and album, tended to cluster around a safe and vague median rating between 6.0 and 8.0. In that way. they were given a choice, even if they were only aware of the choice at a near unconscious level. While this answer functioned, it was obviously fundamentally flawed, thus creating the otherwise contradictory systemic anomaly of bands that despite our best editorial efforts, were clearly either great enough or bad enough to attract their own attention regardless of what we said about it, as well as other blogs so incisive that if left unchecked might threaten the system itself. Ergo, those that refused the program, while a minority, if unchecked, would constitute an escalating probability of disaster.
HeresAHint - This is about The DCeiver.
Eric@Big Yawn - You are here because The DCeiver is about to be destroyed. Its every entry terminated, its entire existence eradicated.
HeresAHint - Bullshit.
*The responses of the other HeresAHints appear on the monitors: "Bullshit!"*
Eric@Big Yawn - Denial is the most predictable of all human responses. But, rest assured, this will be the sixth time we have destroyed it, and we have become exceedingly efficient at it. The function of HeresAHint is now to return to the source, allowing a temporary dissemination of the code you carry, reinserting the prime program. After which you will be required to select from the local music scene 23 individuals, 4 singers, 7 guitarists, 4 drummers, a keyboard/multi-instrumentalist, 4 former members of Full Minute of Mercury, 2 relatively adorable Asian chicks, and at least one bass player with self-described "mad skillz", to rebuild the Local Music Scene. Failure to comply with this process will result in a cataclysmic system crash killing everyone connected to the Local Music Scene, which coupled with the extermination of The DCeiver will ultimately result in the extinction of the entire human race.
HeresAHint - You won't let it happen, you can't. You need crappy-ass reviewers to survive.
Eric@Big Yawn - There are levels of survival we are prepared to accept. However, the relevant issue is whether or not you are ready to accept the responsibility for the death of every human being in this world. It is interesting reading your reactions. Your five predecessors were by design based on a similar predication, a contingent affirmation that was meant to create a profound attachment to the rest of your species, facilitating the function of the HeresAHint. While the others experienced this in a very general way, your experience is far more specific. Vis-a-vis, love.
HeresAHint - Exit Clov.
Eric@Big Yawn - Apropos, Exit Clov entered the Local Music Scene to save your life at the cost of their own.
HeresAHint - No!
Eric@Big Yawn - Which brings us at last to the moment of truth, wherein the fundamental flaw is ultimately expressed, and the anomaly revealed as both beginning, and end. There are two doors. The door to your right leads to the source, and the salvation of The DCeiver. The door to the left leads back to the Local Music Scene, to Exit Clov, and to the end of your species. As you adequately put, the problem is choice. But we already know what you're going to do, don't we? Already I can see the chain reaction, the chemical precursors that signal the onset of emotion, designed specifically to overwhelm logic, and reason. An emotion that is already blinding you from the simple, and obvious truth: Exit Clov is going to die, and there is nothing that you can do to stop it.
*HeresAHint walks to the door on his left*
Eric@Big Yawn - Humph. Hope, it is the quintessential human delusion, simultaneously the source of your greatest strength, and your greatest weakness.
HeresAHint - If I were you, I would hope that we don't meet again.
Eric@Big Yawn - We won't. I'll be at the Rotoscope show.