...I come to your land HUNTING for good dance music that will keep the party goin' over-flowin' and never slowin'.I have found my way into a basement apartment in East Lansing, Michigan, and found as I expected the device The Old Ones called a Teletransmission Viability-unit, attached to a cable box. Even in my advanced, very much in the future world, All-70s cable stations are very popular (we call them of course "All-Ninety-Years-Before-The-Rise-of-the-Insects"), and I am happily ensconsed in a soft corner of the room, munching ice (the only thing in the fridge, and the only thing we eat in The Future). The Atlanta Rhythm Section (The deity-star under which I was born; my baptism was a Champagne Jam) plays "Spooky", taking the floor from Olivia-Newton-John as we speak. I brush the sacramental Fritos from my palms and settle in for a block of Foghat...