Killers from space.
Just an FYI: this post has nothing to do with Killers from Space, either the thing or the movie by the same name. I just used it to draw your attention to an even more immediate problem: Killers from Underground!
Say what you want about Big Green. Sure, we may not be the most successful band around. And true enough, we don't perform very much ... or even at all, really. And it's fair to say that we spend much of our band time recording stuff in the basement, releasing the resulting tracks buried in incomprehensible podcasts. Further, you wouldn't be wrong to say that we are gaunt, pigeon-toed freaks with bad builds and gray hair. Right ... are you done saying what you want? This is getting depressing.
Oh, yeah - my point is simply that, even though we don't deliver on a lot of what you might expect from an indie rock band, we try to be useful in little ways. Like giving you pointers on how to handle a disgruntled mad scientist. Or tips on personal robot assistant maintenance. Or best practices with regard to the care and feeding of man-sized tubers. I think you'll agree that there's value in that. And you can listen to music while you learn. That's the kind of service we provide.
Anyway, some of you may recall our Journey to the Center of the Earth a few years back. For highlights, just look back a few years in this very blog. (If you find it buried in the madness, let me know. I can't freaking find it for the life of me.) Well, we have had indications that the Morlocks are planning some kind of attack. How do we know? For one thing, Marvin (my personal robot assistant) has an electronic earthquake monitor built into his water works, and it has been turning out some disturbing data ... data that suggest a veritable army of Morlocks digging their way to the surface. Either that or someone is fracking in the neighborhood. We're opting for the far more likely Morlock scenario.
Trouble is, with our luck, they'll probably break through the earth's crust right in our courtyard or in the basement of the mill. We're trying to prepare for that eventuality. Matt's got a shovel handy. I'm ordering a couple of pizzas. Carrot and stick, friends.
Say what you want about Big Green. Sure, we may not be the most successful band around. And true enough, we don't perform very much ... or even at all, really. And it's fair to say that we spend much of our band time recording stuff in the basement, releasing the resulting tracks buried in incomprehensible podcasts. Further, you wouldn't be wrong to say that we are gaunt, pigeon-toed freaks with bad builds and gray hair. Right ... are you done saying what you want? This is getting depressing.
Oh, yeah - my point is simply that, even though we don't deliver on a lot of what you might expect from an indie rock band, we try to be useful in little ways. Like giving you pointers on how to handle a disgruntled mad scientist. Or tips on personal robot assistant maintenance. Or best practices with regard to the care and feeding of man-sized tubers. I think you'll agree that there's value in that. And you can listen to music while you learn. That's the kind of service we provide.
Anyway, some of you may recall our Journey to the Center of the Earth a few years back. For highlights, just look back a few years in this very blog. (If you find it buried in the madness, let me know. I can't freaking find it for the life of me.) Well, we have had indications that the Morlocks are planning some kind of attack. How do we know? For one thing, Marvin (my personal robot assistant) has an electronic earthquake monitor built into his water works, and it has been turning out some disturbing data ... data that suggest a veritable army of Morlocks digging their way to the surface. Either that or someone is fracking in the neighborhood. We're opting for the far more likely Morlock scenario.
Trouble is, with our luck, they'll probably break through the earth's crust right in our courtyard or in the basement of the mill. We're trying to prepare for that eventuality. Matt's got a shovel handy. I'm ordering a couple of pizzas. Carrot and stick, friends.
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