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 INFORMATION SOCIETY - 300BPS N,8,1 Lyrics

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So we're supposed to play in Curitiba in 18 hours, but our bus is being held hostage by the local promoters. They've formed some unholy alliance with the Brazilian counterpart of ASCAP: The PRS. Apparently the PRS has the legal power to arrest people, and they want a piece of the national tour promoter's money. The local security force, Gang Mexicana, has been bought out for 1800 Cruzados and a carton of Marlboros each. The only faction still operating in our defense is Big John, our personal security man, and he's hiding in his room because a local gang is out for his blood because of a 1982 knifing incident in which he was involved. Our 345-pound road manager, Rick only had this to say: You wanted the life of a rock star!. Paul, Jim and I realized that this was one situation we were going to have to get out of ourselves.


We convened a hasty conference in the hotel lobby. Paul suggested contacting our national tour promoter in Sao Paulo, but we remembered that he was in Recife with Faith No More, who had just arrived for their Brazilian tour. We thought about contacting our Brazilian record company in Rio, but they weren't home. Our ever-diligent American manager was arranging help of numerous forms, but he was in New York, and just too far away to get anything moving in time.


And there were 6000 kids in Curitiba who just wouldn't understand.


We knew it was time for action. Paul went up to the PRS guys and invited them into the bar to discuss it like civilized men over a few Brazilian drinks, offering each of them a cigar on his way. The amused PRS heavies seemed to like the idea of a few free drinks, even if they knew they would never give us our bus back. When Paul winked at Jim and I on his way in, we went into action.
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I stole off to my room to prepare while Jim went into action. Creeping carefully through a service duct, he managed to gain a vantage point some three meters above the bus, and dropped carefully onto the roof. After using his all-purpose Swiss Army knife [affectionately known as the skit knife] to jimmy open the roof hatch, he went through the darkened inside of the bus and removed the inside engine service panel. Using some spare electronic parts he found while on an island in the Amazon, he wired the entire bus for remote control, not unlike a remote control toy car.


At this point, he asked himself Now how shall I get out of here?!?


Paul was having difficulties of his own.


Couldn't you see your way clear to letting us fulfill our contractual obligations in Curitiba? Think of the kids!