“Tonight, we achieve lossless catering. No crinkle of foil. No ice cubes clinking before the crescendo. Your souls must be as silent as a 192kHz sine wave.”
Interior, Party Down van. RAIN PATTERS on the roof. RON DONALD (Ken Marino) grips the wheel, squinting through the wipers.
“Lossless is a lie, you pompous sound-shaman. Digital audio is just discrete samples approximating a continuous wave. Nyquist–Shannon proved—”
(long pause) “I’m just here for the cheese.”
“Lossless. Told you. The only lossless thing tonight was Jasper’s dignity.”
“We’re not getting paid. But I grabbed a bottle of his ‘sonically aged’ scotch.”
“Lossless audio, people. That’s the gig. A bunch of audiophile billionaires in a Malibu bunker, listening to a vinyl master of Dark Side of the Moon that cost more than my divorce. We mess this up, they don’t just stiff us on the tip. They erase us. Like a bad MP3.”
(eating a squashed quiche off the floor) “What?”
