Hmmm. That drill bit looks a little large. As in, larger than the entire building. Perhaps if we moved the hammer mill a little to the left. No? Hokay.
Oh, well…. hi there. Just negotiating a small issue with a representative from Hegemonic Records and Worm Farm, Inc., the entertainment branch of the titanic multinational that has agreed to, once again, sponsor Big Green – take us under their cold steel wing, as it were – in exchange for mineral rights to the land upon which our adopted squat-house home, the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, now sits. What is it about these Hegemonic guys that even their A and R people wear full body armor? They seem a little, I don’t know, nervous. This guy I’m talking to has a very twitchy trigger finger. Wish to hell he’d put that Kalashnikov down.
Hegemonic, as some of you may recall, was our corporate label back in the early 2000’s. We had a little falling out…. though I guess you could almost call it a “falling in,” since they took us hostage for a few weeks during a brief stay in Indonesia, where Hegemonic does a lot of its business. Bygones be bygones, right? The rope burns have long since healed. Anywho, we’ve got an arrangement with them now that I think has the potential to make everybody happy; a real “win-win”. We want worldwide distribution; they want the natural gas locked within the stack of shale that sits between this building and the Earth’s chewy nougat center. What could go wrong?
Thing is, they want that methane, and they want it NOW. So I open my curtains this morning and see this colossal drill bit parked outside the mill. I asked Marvin (my personal robot assistant) to got out and investigate, and he comes back in with Mr. AK-47. And he’s like, “Hey!” and I’m like, “What?” and he’s like, “Face down on the floor, MOVE! MOVE!” and I’m like, “Ow! That rifle butt hurts!” And…. well, we had a little talk after that. Cleared up a lot of things. Turns out, his mother went to a completely different school than my mother. Talk about coincidences!
So where does that leave us? Well, I was going to ask his thoughts on compulsory integration, but he couldn’t hear me over the sound of the enormous, earth-crushing drill. Oops.
Oh, hi. Yep, that’s right; I’m in the process of talking down one of Mitch Macaphee’s greatest creations (at least in his own estimation). Yes, it seems that Freakenstein, once set loose by Dr. Macaphee, did a tear around the neighborhood, pulling up lamp posts, opening fire hydrants, and generally making a nuisance of himself. He went into the local pawn shop and got a few items out of hock – items he, of course, had no personal connection with (since he was only just invented and has never known the joys of personal property) but nonetheless liked anyway. What did he use for money? No cash needed … when you’re Freakenstein.
Oh, yes… that’s right. We are not the only ones reading this. Sorry out there in the blogosphere. Big Green is in the midst of a band meeting of sorts. No, we don’t typically do these. Like most groups, we all live together in our funky (i.e. “groovy”) musician bachelor pad, with the retro sixties modular furniture and gooseneck lamps of the type you might find in Darrin Stevens’ house (assuming he actually had a house and not just a set that is, in essence, a house sawed in half). My point is…. um … (yes… it was a house sawed in half, perhaps by some kind of witchcraft, or … craft services….) Damn it!