Is this the new itinerary? Looks like last week’s. Which, if I recall correctly, was a hastily updated photocopy of the flight path for Voyager 2. That mission didn’t end well, my fine friend, just you remember.
Yes, yes … we are still preparing the ground for our upcoming interstellar tour to support celestial sales of Big Green’s latest album, Cowboy Scat: Songs in the Key of Rick. The itinerary thus far includes stops on gas giants, molten moons, and frozen asteroids hurtling into black holes. Couple of snags, that’s all. Nothing to get excited about. (Man Jack Jesus, this band has to work like an animal to find an audience.)
In the meantime, we have plucked the lost September episode of our podcast THIS IS BIG GREEN from the jaws of non-existence (if such a state of being can be said to have anything resembling jaws), and good thing, too: we needed an October episode very badly indeed. What’s it all about? Well, you could give it a listen. Or you could just ask us … and if you did, we would most likely tell you it includes:
Anyhow, the “lost” September episode of THIS IS BIG GREEN includes:
Ned Trek XIII: Specter’s Stepchildren. Our running satire of Star Trek, Mr. Edd, and the Romney presidential campaign continues with this gripping episode. Mr. Welsh is being coaxed into serving as a sound engineer for powerful aliens who force songs out of Mr. Ned, Mr. Pearl, Rev. Doc Coburn, and Willard Mittilius himself…. with hilarious consequences. Five (or is it six?) new Big Green songs, never before heard, one sung by a horse, one sung by a robot Nixon, one sung by space aliens (accompanied by John Ashcroft), one sung by a chickenhawk neocon (guess who). Don’t miss it.
Idle conversation. As usual, Matt and I ramble on for about 20 minutes about vital issues of the day, random snippets from days past. We talk about our dad, about space probes, about god knows what. Something else, I’m sure. No spotlight songs resurrected from the past this month – we spent our song quota in the Ned Trek episode.
That’s what we’ve got. Now, back to travel plans. Where’s that sextant?
doing an interplanetary tour within our own solar system as opposed to traveling into deep space and incurring some substantial logistical costs (not least of which are those damned tollbooths between here and Aldebaran – I’m almost certain they’re a scam!). He whirred and flashed and squeaked for about three hours, then emitted a slip of paper that bore a recipe for potato soup written in Mandarin. I beckoned to my translator.
Christ on a bike. Sloth has reached a new level of intensity here at the hammer mill, and it’s no surprise. We have been cooped up in the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill for the better part of three years (the worse part, too … I remember those awful days…), not a hand’s turn of work. Sure, we produced and released an album, 
Greetings from the Mill of our discontent. Well, it’s mild discontent, let’s say. Been a long time since the book of love. Wait … why did I say that? Oh, right – I was listening to tapes from the 70s and 80s, so naturally my mind goes back to my neighbor’s Led Zepplin albums. (I didn’t have any; just Simon and Garfunkel, Josh White, and Mario Lanza. Oh, and some weird stuff.) We didn’t sound anything like them, of course. In fact, we sounded strangely like us in the 2010’s. It’s as if we’ve been playing the same tune for forty years. FOR FORTY YEARS…!