Fat Mike is a purveyor of fine absurdity and so am I, which is why I ended up talking to him for an hour about how his wifey (dominatrix of some renown Soma Snakeoil) kicks his dick around in big shoes. The subject of music was not broached once and that was and is actually a pretty standard aspect of about 99.69% of my music (sic?) writing. You should see some of the pissy-pants hand-wringy emails I used to get from PR fucks, a profession that seems to trade exclusively in having no fucking idea about cool shit. W-O-W.
Also, that custom art from Glenn Smith. Delectable. Hey, love that song The Brews. Listen to it in the car all the time with a dangerous lady going fast. Just super Saiyan.