Butthole Surfers.

The list of items that this band has misplaced over the last 20 years sounds like a recipe for a yard sale at a mad scientist's genetics laboratory. Have you seen...

--A red saxophone

--A leather vest

--X-rays of girls in sweat sock g-strings

--Giant walls of strobe lights that bring sight back to the blind eye that sees all

--Enough fog machines to smoke out Perry Mason inside the whirling hall of knives

--Broken projectors and thousands of miscellaneous drivers education and nature film splices.

--Boxes of burnt cymbals and bullhorns to fight the creep in the cellar

--A mysterious ranch somewhere in Texas prepped for a Mexican caravan

--A drummer and a couple of timbales 

--Several bass players

--A few brain cells

...and I'll tell you what, they're still surfing after all these years.

In retrospect of this weird stuff perpetrated by sideways monsters, the revolution is recruiting. There's no way to confirm what the objectives are, but we've been receiving audio transmissions and it sounds good. It's good like a field goal that I'm waiting for Jimmy to kick. I'm gonna go get a bike and paint it electric blue.