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Ca se passe dans un
bar enfumé, dans le coin au fond à gauche, il y a un musicien de jazz
qui joue du piano. Le serveur vient lui porter une chope de bière. Là,
un petit singe sort de nulle part, trempe un doigt dans la chope, et
disparaît comme il était venu. A la fin du morceau, le pianiste descend
sa chope de bière, imperturbable. Un touriste assiste médusé à la scène.
Le serveur revient avec une nouvelle chope, et le scénario se reproduit
à l'identique : le singe bondit de nulle part, trempe un doigt dans la
chope, et disparaît aussitôt. Le pianiste semble ne s'apercevoir de
rien, boit sa chope d'un trait, et entame un nouveau morceau. Le serveur
revient avec une nouvelle chope et le singe refait son numéro. A la fin
du morceau, le touriste, vraiment intrigué, s'approche du pianiste et
lui demande :
An anthropologist was conducting research in the Lower Congo when, to his delight, he managed to find an obscure, previously unrecorded tribe. One exciting aspect of the tribe's culture was its musical traditions, which included constant drumming from a nearby hilltop.
On his first night in his makeshift camp, he thrilled to the sound of the drums, but didn't manage to sleep a wink. The next evening he went to the tribe's chief and asked when the drumming would stop. "You don't want to hear drums stop," the chief informed him in his click dialect. "After drums stop, something terrible happens."
One week later, crazed by lack of sleep, the anthropologist returned, offering gifts he'd kept for emergencies: a top hat, coloured beads, and a set of cigarette cards. Once again the chief said, "After drums stop, something terrible happens."
Over the next four weeks, the haggard, twitching, anthropologist returned to the chief, offering his Amex gold card, his sister, and his family home if only the drums would stop. Each offer received the same reply.
Finally, convinced that the termination of the drumming must involve a human sacrifice, the anthropologist gave away his possessions, penned his farewell letters, and approached the chief once more. Breaking into tears, he offered his life to the chief, and asked once more what would happen when the drums stopped.
The chief frowned. "When drums stop, bass solo starts."
A couple, whose relationship was on the rocks, went to a marriage counselor who could not get them to discuss anything. They simply would not speak to each other. The communication block was so heavy that nothing he suggested could make them open up and talk.
Finally after several sessions of non-communication, the counselor stands up, walks to the corner of the room and produces a bass and begins to play fervently. Shortly the couple begins to glance at each other and gradually their barriers break down and they begin to discuss their problems and little things that always bothered them that they never felt encouraged to bring up before.
At the end of the session, they were smiling and laughing just like old times. They paid their bill and before leaving, the couple asked the counselor, "What did you do? How did that music help make everything work out?"
He answered simply, "I've never known anyone who wouldn't talk during a bass solo."
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