Another day, another blizzard.
Winter is descending upon us like a frozen shroud. Or a great frozen wall. Or some other metaphor I can’t think of because I’m too damn cold.
Winter is descending upon us like a frozen shroud. Or a great frozen wall. Or some other metaphor I can’t think of because I’m too damn cold.
If we were as rich as … well, as pretty much any other band, we could just pick this place up, put it on a flatbed, and move it someplace warm. No effing way.
Big Green has international reach, my friends. Somebody in Romania listened to our asses. How they found them with both hands I couldn’t tell you.
Who in their right mind would spend their entire holiday season break recording and posting a bogus solo concert? This dude over here, man.
I’m performing solo, strumming an instrument I’ve never been able to master, hollering like a crazed chimp. Doesn’t that sound like Christmas?
Yesterday Mitch handed me the business end of something that looked like one of those Dr. Seuss instruments, like the Zimbaphone or whatever the hell.
All of our Thanksgiving photos turned out hideous, so here’s a shot of me at the Macy’s multi-promotional parade, brought to you by EveryCorp.
We’re working on our Christmas pageant, and we’re hoping that no one will guess this year’s theme before we finish our parade floats.
I’m not averse to learning new skills. Neither am I skilled at learning a new verse. But I am entirely out of my depth when asked to take group photos.
You’re more than welcome to stop by, take a seat, and watch us attempt to record pop music using stone knives and bear skins.