I was sharing an apartment with a fellow student (late 1970s) when we got our first answering machine. We were avid listeners to KPFK, the Los Angeles listener-funded station. I don’t remember his name, but there was a programmer who would give these Zen meditations in incomprehensible hippiespeak spoken in a low, dreamy voice. For a laugh we recorded a 30-second parody for our outgoing message. We thought it was hilarious. Our very first incoming message was from my roommate’s mechanic, hopping mad, roaring, “I just wasted half my day listening to your stupid message! Your God-damned car is ready!!”
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