Flying circus.

No, damn it, I can't spin a plate on a stick, even if the stick is on my tongue. What the hell do you think I am, a trained seal? This is freaking ridiculous. Get out of my broom closet!

Oh, well ... you can see that this blog isn't driven by our PR people. (This just in: we don't HAVE any of those.) If we knew more about marketing, I might not admit in public that I was having this discussion with Anti-Lincoln, who is just chock full of "good ideas". He piped up with a beauty today: that we should diversify our act a bit more. Not entirely rely on music. Put a few dance steps or maybe a couple of skits in the middle or our sets. Or ... magic tricks.

I'm thinking that we should have someone - maybe Anti-Lincoln - do all that stuff for us. Why the hell not? If we need to diversify our act, I don't want to be any part of it. Anti-Lincoln could be our agent or road manager. He could make Marvin (my personal robot assistant) jump through flaming hoops while we're changing the strings on our various instruments. (Then again, Marvin is our guitar tech, so it would need to be, maybe, Tubey?) I'll tell you, Marvin would have to jump fast, because I can change the strings on my Roland electric piano in no time flat. (That's not why I bought it, though - I bought it because I could lift it without groaning.)

Space for rent at the mill.Why the sudden lurch towards random entrepreneurship? Well, we've been under a bit of pressure as of late. With the economy picking up a bit, suddenly the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill has become a bit more attractive as a commercial location. Local developers are thinking about gutting it and setting up one of those Mill Malls that pop up around here. (Actually, they can spare themselves the bother of that first step - this place was gutted long ago.) So, yeah, we're looking for ways to go legit on this property, maybe even start .... gulp ... paying property taxes .... or even utilities ..... ooooohhhhhh....

Anyway, that's why I'm sleeping in a broom closet. We're ALL sleeping in little spaces now, just to train ourselves for having to share this big barn of a place with people who sell scented candles, overpriced crockery, and weird-ass clothing. (Maybe we can open a used robot store ... )

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