If there's life after death. I sincerely hope all these cunning snake-oil audiophool sellers rot in hell.
S.
The really great German audio journalist Jürgen Egger (RIP) once wrote (electronic translation):
There is a restaurant at the edge of the universe.
Actually, it's not a restaurant, it's a nasty, stinky diner,
in which exclusively greasy, dark lumps with a slimy, light-coloured saturation supplement
will be served. Always the same. Every day. And all you get to drink is warm Cherry Coke.
In this restaurant at the edge of the universe, all the high end guys are locked up,
who have sinned in their earthly lives.
You meet people there who, one or more times, have stated amplifier power in horsepowers,
who have made a fortune with cable, spray or appliance base voodoo,
who cobbled together their dirty loudspeakers for a pig's fee to the
junkie buyers who were stupefied by the trade press.
By the way, one or the other hi-fi journalist sits around there as well.
In this restaurant Chris de Burgh of Mini-Disc runs the whole day through a permanent
clipping pre/amplifier combination and six-way speakers with broken midrange drivers.
This is how I once dreamt it on a restless audio fair night.
I don't know how much truth there is in this dream.
But it is an immensely soothing perspective.