i-and-iPod

I got myself an MP3 player the other day. My finances being as dire as they are, it's not exactly a top-of-range model, but still - it's about the size of two fat pens holding hands, and can store about two hours of music. Given that I still remember when my Dad bought his first Stereo record player (after wisely ditching his 8-track), this compact little musical cigar strikes me as a wonder of modern technology.

So much memory in such a tiny form. Recently, I've been toying with the idea of tiny, beadlike balls of memory, with just enough capacity to store a single song on them. You could make a necklace out of your favourite songs, threading them onto a connective loop with a Bluetooth clasp at the back which would wirelessly transmit the music to your earphone ear-rings. Or imagine giving your significant other a ring in which "Your Song" is crystalogically encrypted into the jewel set into the band...

I heard a news story the other day saying how the distinctive iPod white earphones have made their wearers an easy target for muggers. Cellphones are yesterday's news - these days the black market is replete with illicit iPods, going for a song in a dodgy pub near you.

So, in the interests of camoflage and coolness; enter the i-and-iPod. It's a wig, of the dreadlock variety. On the end of each lock is a bead, which contains a song. Running through the middle of each dread is a concealed wire, which all terminate at the scalp of the wig. I'm sure by now you get the picture. Before going out, you decide which tunes you want to hear, and spend a fiddly few minutes threading those particular memory-beads on to the ends of the faux-dreads of your wig. Don said wig, and walk out into the world. Either two short dreads will have earphones on the end, and can so be jammed into your ears to let you access the music, or the music can be imparted directly into your skull via bone-conductive vibrating plates which are wired into the scalp of the wig itself. Keeps your head warm and your soul a-skanking.

"So, Mr. Marley; how do you like your doughnuts?"
"Wi' jam in."