Rubbish in.

Anybody seen my tuning fork? No, damn it, THAT'S not it. That's my tuning spoon. I said fork, you moron. This .... place!

Oh, yeah ... hi out there. I'm just attempting to replace a string on a second hand guitar that's been lying around the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill since before we started squatting inside this big old drafty barn of a place. In as much as Big Green is a collectivist institution by nature, we make use of what resources avail themselves, utilizing only what we need to accomplish a mutually agreed-upon task, then replacing the surplus in such a way as to benefit all. Yes, we're all equal here. Except, of course, anti-Lincoln. Fuck that guy!

Why am I restringing an old, abandoned guitar? Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm doing it with used strings. We're scraping the bottom of the stewpot here, folks - I won't make any bones about it. (Typically, what you find at the bottom of the pot is not so much bones as sinew and fat, but I'll leave that right there.) That's what you have to do when you're Big Green, you know. We thrive on privation. We bask in the glow of our obscurity. When gravity says come down here, we go up there. When we look in the mirror, we know that we're the opposite of what we see looking back at us.

What does all this mean? Well, I'm gonna' tell ya'. We still haven't finished our podcast, that's what. The machinery is moving pretty slowly these days, folks. Matt's got his hands full with his various nature-focused responsibilities, tracking peregrine falcons, tending the beavers, and writing up stats for The Kingbird. And me, well ... I saw a bunny in the yard. And there was some other junk. And I listened to a video clip on my phone. Uh ... I got nothing. Rubbish in, rubbish out, right?

Sure, I know, it's been four months since our last show; it's in the works, and we're mixing the songs right now. One .... more .. hurdle. Keep your eyes open and your mouths agape. Expect a delivery ... soonish.