This Is Your Left Channel

It was terribly difficult to get out of bed this morning. Wasn't it? For me, the soft sound of car tires over wet city street was a warm whisper: Stay in bed, don't go.

It's a grey day in New York City, but we're back in action. The "Products of the Year" plaques arrived—the shredded newspaper packing material that's covering my office floor proves it. None of the hefty glass plaques shattered in transit, but one was accidentally duplicated by the trophy company. So one of our lucky winners will be getting two awards this year.

Our new supply of Test CD 3 discs also arrived. They are gorgeous.

"Hey John," I said, waving a CD at him, "Want to see if it makes noises?"

"Nuh-uh. You see if it makes noises."

The possibility of a new CD coming back from the magical pressing plant and being blank—or worse: being wrong—freaks the hell out of JA. What if they replaced Test CD 3 with The Fucking Champs' V? You don't know—it could happen.

I inserted the disc into my computer's drive and listened.

No glorious victory metal. Instead, a gang of audio reviewers: "This is your left channel. Whooooosh. This is your right channel. Whooooosh. This is your center channel..."

Our Test CD 3 has sold well over 20,000 copies, JA informed me. How cool is that? More than a warm whisper, that's a whole blaring salsa band. We're back in action and making lots of noise.

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