Tuneless mo-fo's.

Circle Game? Done it. Keep the Ball Rollin'? God, yes. Lodi? Oh, Lord... yes. Fucking hell... Wait, I've got it. "Six drops of essence of terror. Five drops of sinister sauce!" No? Come on - it's from 1964, damn it!


What a slog. Yes, my little friends... Big Green is still here, out on the third planet of Cancri 55, only just discovered and already giving me a major, major pain in the ass. I'm telling you this right now - these space aliens have an insatiable appetite for sixties songs (which they call... "new" music). And when I say insatiable, I mean they want new shit all the time. You can not play the same song twice down here, friends. No repeating, no pre-fab set lists... just new, new, NEW. Even with a forty-year backlog, quite frankly, we are running out of stuff to play. (Note to you bar bands down there on Earth: Don't come here. They will work you to death!) Unfortunately, we reeled through the good stuff in the first few days, worked through the bubble-gum cheese, and are truly into the dregs at this point. (As you can see, we're starting to pull out the T.V. cartoon theme songs.)


While Matt, John, sFshzenKlyrn and I have been working the highly demanding crowd, Marvin (my personal robot assistant) has been devoting all of his energies to piecing our damaged space craft back together. Not an easy task, especially with his meager talents. Mind you, sFshzenKlyrn could probably knock this task off in a lazy afternoon, him being a transcendental extraterrestrial being possessed of the sum of all knowledge, good, bad, and indifferent. Trouble is, I really think he likes it here. He's a big fan of sixties music, and since time means nothing to him, he could easily spend the next seven eons here without graying a hair. (Truth be known, the eons will not have been so kind to us.) I have been trying to think of how to incentivize sFshzenKlyrn to take over the spacecraft repair work, but so far no soap. Well... there is one thing that would work, but I would never, ever, go there. Not after the last time. It just wouldn't be right. And it could be all any of our lives are worth to even try it again. Nope, not right at all.


Bob Seger? They want to hear Bob Seger songs? I'll do it!


Do what? Well... we all know that sFshzenKlyrn has a little addiction issue with flapjacks. (As do we all, of course.) This is more than a mere compulsion. Some of you may remember what happened the last time he went on a major binge. If so, I need not remind you... but from the very earliest days of our association with the man from Zenon, the dreaded half-stack of buckwheat flappers has been like a gun to his oddly misshapen head. The first time we witnessed a sFshzenKlyrn bender, the space critter grew to the size of a fifty story building. That was after a rather large serving, I will admit - with the right kind of controls, we may be able to induce a pavlovian response out of him... perhaps induce him to use his enormous talents to get us off this musically-challenged cinder. And perhaps be incinerated in the process. Hmmm...


Bob Seger? Chance we'll have to take! Oh, sFshzenKlyrn my old friend! I've got a little snack for you!


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