As the dulcet tones of the Theremin weave their dreamlike aura around your subconscious , the drums pound against your breastbone and you gradually begin to wonder if you should have had quite so many Dixie cups of that electric Kool-Aid. Discum looms overhead, a giant among men, as the Bobbulators mount relentless sorties against your peace of mind. It's OK. Just get up and dance for six or eight hours and you'll feel just fine.
Friday, February 8, 2008
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