Stuff I Do When I’m Bored

Stereoballs

The Project G stereo, produced by Canadian company Clairtone from 1964 to 1967, was a design marvel with its rosewood cabinet and rotating “sound globe” speakers. Famous owners like Hugh Hefner and Frank Sinatra showcased it as a symbol of sophistication. Despite its $2,000 price tag (around $20,000 today) limiting its market, fewer than 400 units were sold. The Project G has since become a collectible icon, epitomizing the sleek 1960s Jet Age style. Pictured here is Jazz pianist Oscar Peterson and an unknown model. Photographer unknown, circa 1964.

[Images are of different models of the same series, found here, on the Clairtone website and elsewhere.]

The Best Crappiest Speakers Ever Made.

RCA

They looked like armadillos boinking a mailbox, and yes, they were speakers. They were virtually indestructible. They hung on the inside of your car window when it was freezing outside and wouldn’t allow you to roll it up all the way.

They were also easily stolen with a pen knife. Lupe had a wall of them in his apartment, all wired together and hooked up to his stereo for a tinny wall of sound. Listening to Led Zeppelin through a dozen drive-in rattlebuzzers was truly something to behold. Truly.

[Found here.]

Babe Magnet: We Gonna Rock the Pavement

Actually, he’s about to start popping pavers, and unless he puts chocks under all four wheels he’s gonna end up in the pool on the other side of the fence.

Still, I wanna hear what THIS sounds like on THAT system. When this guy parks, all conversation stops south of the Aural Assault Vehicle (AAV), unless one is well versed in ASL, or you happen to be a quarter mile away and approaching from the north.

Rain? No worries. Just power it up, hit PLAY INDIE/TECHNO MIX, and raindrops are vaporized into winter dogbreath within a nineteen-foot diameter hemisphere, as the AAV self-propels itself down Interstate 10 on sound waves alone. Pure efficient genius.

Does he have a chance with the babes? Certainly, but in order to score he’s gonna hafta take requests and blast chick music with the volume set at 11. That’s when he risks being pounded into red applesauce by a dozen bikers roaring in from the next county over who don’t have an affinity for Hannah Montana.

Better stick with Hendrix and Steppenwolf, bro.

[Image from here.]