Monday, December 8, 2008

Dig the Chuzz...Becuzz

'Tis the season to sign yer name. Sign the visa slips thrown at you by surly cashiers, and sign the stack o' company Xmas cards. This year I have the extra bonus of signing a multitude of paperwork related to medical/legal issues regarding my accident. Damn, so sick of it...I am on the verge of signing the next thing foisted upon me with the old tried and true "Heywood Jablome". I think John Hancock should step aside and let Heywood come out from the seedy world of crank calls and into the bright light of the popular lexicon.

Hey, Heywood wouldn't be that bad of a guy, just an unfortunate victim of both inbreeding and of his extensive collection of Jackyl records. Immature and slightly perverted, but surely a misunderstood Boo Radley minus the nobility? I would be happy to share with him a bottle of Spamante Bambino taken from his cinderblock winerack anytime. Just wouldn't be able to condone his inbreeding is all.

I do condone The Inbreds however. A stellar duo that showed us the power of two long before the White Stripes came along to paint the town red...and white...and black, and whatever colour Mondrian was splashin' around.

Big diff tho'...The Inbreds were a drum and bass combo, and they didn't see the absence of a guitar as a problem, rather as a challenge. Challenge met. Exceeded. Brilliance. Chuzz.

Chuzz is the glorious mixture of chunk and fuzz. Mike the bassist, wisely chose a Music Man StingRay for good, hefty, and fat bottom and dressed that chunky junk in the trunk in gigantic granny pants of buzz. The sound, the tone...oh man...I'm getting excited... aroused...Heywood Jablome?

No? Fine then. Just watch "Sense of Time" okay? Jeeze.

currently listening to: The Inbreds, Kombinator

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