Let's say I'm a dad of like, let's say, 3 kids. And they've all got some pretty solid skills with some instruments. You've got Johnny on the guitar, Samantha on the drums, and Lisa slapping up the bass. So they get the idea of making a little band, and what do you know? It's pretty damn good. Everyone's playing together well and they've got a good harmony going on. They decide to call their little band Google and I start inviting over some neighborhood parents to the living room to see them play once a week.
Everything is going well and I say, fuck it, time for another kid. So I just go out and buy another kid or something because that's how the world works in this story. So little Brian joins the family and guess what? He's fucking good at the guitar too. He's got a bit of a different sound but it works with the band and all of the parents who come over that week are impressed.
I say, fuck it, time for another kid and go back to the kid store and get another one. So little Girthantheklops (fuck you, it's my kid. I'll name it what I want.) She doesn't really like instruments that much, but she likes slapping together some shit and she's into being in the band. So we get her some wood blocks and she meshes pretty well in the band with some well-timed clickity-clacks here and there. Parents that week are stil impressed, but a little unsure if wood blocks is starting to get a bit away from the rest of the band. But they're still digging it and Girthantheklops really is doing some good work on the clackers.
Fuck it, kid store, get new kid. Fucking name it BootsShoes. Welcome to the family, BootShoes. Well he doesn't like any instruments. Can't even keep a beat. But he wants in the band somehow. Turns out BootShoes is super into culinary crafts. So parents come over that week and we've got Johnny on guitar, Samantha on drums, Lisa slapping bass, and Brian on rhythm guitar just rocking away. Girthantheklops is hitting all the right marks but it still seems a bit off in this kind of band. And then we've got BootsShoes up in front towards the left wearing an apron and chopping fucking onions.
Parents are getting a bit confused here. And their attention is being divided. On one hand you've got a kickass band rocking out, and then you've got a kid chopping onions and tomatoes and shit like a fucking pro. The band is better than ever, but the parents can't help but to feel like something is a bit off here and they're wondering if they're going to keep coming.
So I buy a nice, new big house at the house store and move the whole family in. I keep the original band in the living room during our odd weekly showings that for some reason other parents are actually consistently coming to and move Brian into the den where he gets his own, new band with a different sound up and running. I put Girthantheklops in the dining room and set her up with a nice smooth sounding orchestra. I put BootsShoes into the fucking kitchen, because Jesus Christ kid, you can't be in a band. You chop fucking onions. That's not an instrument, that's fucking breakfast. And only one part of it. But goddamn can you cut onions, son. I'm proud of you.
So now the parents just walk to whatever room they're most interested in and it looks like we've got some nice organization and direction under one roof. Just had to create a little distance between all of these talented (onions?! Fuck man.) kids.
