The Knights of the Auto Order Proudly Present: The Auto Body Estimate: Vol. II, #67, March 2006

Before anyone becomes a physician, they must swear the Hippocratic Oath. Although I was home sick from Pike Lake Elementary School the day they covered ancient Greeks, my over-simplified (and probably inaccurate) understanding of this oath is that you promise to do your best and leave the patients no worse off then you found them. I think all professions should adopt variations on this ritual. Good campers do. My approach to doing laundry, which often involves washing some items while perpetually ignoring others, is based on such an approach. While we'd all like to see something like this introduced into politics, perhaps we should start with smaller goals and work up to the big ones. Perhaps there should be a Conversational Hippocratic Oath, where you promise to not make conversation less comfortable than absolute silence.

Snickers and I frequently visit the dog park, where he can chase and wrestle with his canine cousins. While dogs can befriend each other instantly (and to quite an intimate extent), their owners often stand around less confidently, searching for conversation topics. Talk can turn to micturition (a theme which might be "eliminated" if we'd only institute an oath). One day, as I watched Snickers and clan performing seemingly endless marking rituals, I found myself (perhaps due to new-baby sleep deprivation) trying to draw comparisons between Zeno's Dichotomy Paradox and this infinite supply.

Although I was home sick from Pike Lake Elementary School the day they covered ancient Greeks, my over-simplified (and probably inaccurate) understanding of Zeno's Dichotomy Paradox is that before you can complete any journey, you must first reach a point half way to the journey's end. Before you can reach the halfway point, however, you have to reach a point halfway there, and so on. This train of thought proves that any travel is impossible. Again, as a new parent, I'm fairly certain that any travel IS impossible, but I think the argument becomes more plausible if, as your example, you use a dog's bladder. Thus, before a dog's bladder runs halfway out it must first run a quarter of the way out, etc, proving (as does observation) that a dog can never completely run out of "number one". Ever wonder about sports fans that chant; "We're number one!"? I do. But I digress.

Speaking of the infinite, Max Wendt has been playing the saxophone in the Auto Body Experience since before the earth cooled. As best historians can determine from the surviving documents, Max's first Auto Body gig was at the Bryant Lake Bowl on April 19, 1994. Not only has Max played nearly every gig since then, and recorded all the saxophones on our last two CDs, he's also done the lion's share of graphic and design work on all but our first CD. It is due to this, and fond memories I have of setting things on fire with Max, that my heart is heavy as I notify you that Max is leaving the band. He even does this with grace to minimize hurting my feelings he's simultaneously moving to Madison as a cover story, not unlike a member of the witness relocation program. Sadly band rules dictate a two-year "internship" prior to full membership, so Max wouldn't have officially been in the band for ten years until this April 19th, and thus he doesn't receive any retirement benefits. Whew.

Anyway, please join us, sending Max off in style, on Friday, March 31 at O'Gara's. Music will start at 9:00 sharp and we'll play one man-sized set with lots of saxophone action. (If your name is Moni, and you still have the sign you used to hold up when Max would juggle back and forth between the clarinet and the tenor during Waiting in Line, I think you should bring it.)

Also, if you or someone you know is a saxophonist, who has perhaps renounced all non-saxophone worldly possessions and can appreciate the spiritual purity of poverty, please contact me. If you don't know anyone who plays the sax, but want to help, please post a review of our new CD, Forgotten Lots at or

Finally, please consider the Conversational Hippocratic Oath. At the very least it might discourage leaders of rock bands from quoting ancient Greeks and using fifty cent words like "micturition". And that alone could be something to be proud of.

Love, Scott Yoho and the Auto Body Experience

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