Wilson: See, it's not unlike what the ancient Greeks felt during a dithyramb.
Tim: Dithyramb? How do you spell that?
Wilson: Well... Let's just say a poem with wild and irregular rhythms.
Tim: Let's just say that.
Wilson: Right. The dithyramb actually was a prelude to Greek theater. There was much stylized dancing and chanting as 50 naked men danced to the beat of a drum.
Tim: I think there's a place like that down by the airport.
Wilson: One of my favorite dithyrambs is similar to the chorus in a play by Aeschylus. "Give ear to my dithyramb. Ho! My flesh crawls while I listen to them pray. The day of doom has waited long. Oh, pain, grown into the race and blood-dripping stroke and grinding cry of disaster moaning and impossible weight to bear." [banging] Hmm. I am cleansed.
Tim: These guys would do that naked?