Is that all we have to eat around here? Jesus Christ on a tricycle. I thought there was some more of that plastic cheese sitting around. Never mind. Just give me another slice of plastic bread. Sigh.

Oh, hi. Yep, it’s that time of year again. The ba-roke period, as our dear departed friend Tim Walsh used to say. Fighting the cat for scraps, except that we would never do that. In times of want, we have occasionally resorted to eating doll house food. Dibs on the plastic baloney! (Hey, don’t scoff … it’s actually not that much worse than tofu baloney.)

So, why exactly is Big Green wearing a cardboard belt this month? Why, you may ask, would a band with more than 300 songs under copyright need to scratch the floor for discarded fragments of past meals? It’s starving artist syndrome, my friends, pure and simple. Yes, we suffer for our art. Just the other day, I got my leg caught in a banjo string. Hurt like hell, dragging that banjo around behind me. Got a lot of dirty looks, too. Now I know what Paul McCartney was singing about when he did that Christmas record ditty called “Please don’t bring your banjo ’round” or something like that. Folks get real sensitive about that sort of thing, I’ve discovered.

Hey, well … I’ve wandered a bit, banjo or no. It got cold around the Hammer Mill last night, so we wrapped the place up a bit … at least the parts we live in. The unseasonable cold weather has at least given me the opportunity to finish my Ned Trek 20 script and pass it along to Matt, so that he can add about six pounds of weird to it. We’ve recorded our voice parts and are in the editing stage right now, so podcast fans … keep cool. We’re almost there, man. Don’t. Freak. Out.

Well, got to get back to my evening meal. Kind of chewy. Polystyrene really sticks to your ribs, though. (Though what it’s doing in the vicinity of my ribs I have no idea.)