Under the gun.


Good god, is that the time? Must have fallen asleep. Hey... I didn't have this Jacobean beard when I fell asleep! Mitch! What the hell....!

Yeah, I'm losing track of day, time, even planet, solar system. I may even be working in base-12. (That would not be a good development, particularly with my bank balance.) Big Green and friends have been a little busy just lately - too busy, frankly, for the niceties of neighborly chats, friendly asides, opening mail, cooking dinner, and writing blog posts.

Cop out? Yeah, you COULD call it that. But what the hell, we're recording new songs, we're writing new material, we're taking pictures of our breakfast cereals... we've got recordings to finish, planets to tame, and zucchini to take to market. Well, Marvin (my personal robot assistant) has zucchini to take to market - yet another one of his hare-brained business ventures. I haven't seen the man-sized tuber in a couple of days, come to think of it - perhaps he was mistaken for a great bull zucchini. (Marvin is a little unsubtle. A zucchini would have to tell him it wasn't a zucchini if it wanted to avoid the market stall.)

I'm almost certain my new yokel beard was pasted on while I was dozing here in the Cheney Hammer Mill. My prime suspect would be anti-Lincoln. He really loves jokes like that, being as he is from the 19th Century (when jokes like that were considered high entertainment). I suppose next he'll stitch a top hat to my forehead and consider that high performance art. You never know around this place. Oh, the humanity! (I almost said, "Oh, the Hannity", but I hate giving free plugs.)

Well, back to slumber land. Wonder what I'll wake up with NEXT time. (First guess: lumberjack getup. What do you think, man?)

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