I’m afraid a great sadness—in the form of epic hardware failure—has come over the shire, and by "shire", I really mean Thunderdome, and by Thunderdome, I really mean "I need to do laundry don't come in here". I’ll be back if I can get this piece of shit I’ve been burning my records into for four years going again (unlikely), or buy a new computer (more likely). Until then, I’ll be sitting in a dark room, bathed in a sea of Windows-failure blue, crying. But not for the reason I’m usually in front of my computer crying, pants-less, and covered in Old Granddad.
Hit play for the last two mp3’s to escape the maw of my spiteful home computer which will now be sacrificed with a sledgehammer and its remains offered to my Roomba, “Sweepy” (I know!).
"Smash It Up"
"Burglar"
Late one stormy night while digging around in a friend’s attic, I found this gem of a 45 buried amongst discarded lamps and chairs, antique paintings of old ships, a static electricity ball, and a map that supposedly leads to One-Eyed Willie’s legendary record collection. One-Eyed Willie, for those that don’t know, was the most prolific record collector that Astoria, Oregon has ever known. Sure, this record’s a little beat up, but if what the map tells me is true, underneath the hideout of an evil family of escaped convicts lies One-Eyed Willie’s legendary lost 45 collection. I can imagine the adventure I might have as me and my rag-tag gang of friends out-wit Mama Derringer’s goons, befriend her giant, deformed, candy-loving son Rick, and discover the basement where One-Eyed Willie died the lonely death of any true collector, still clutching a photo of the girl that let him feel her up in high school.
