Stoned Local Man Declares Talking Heads "Best Group Ever"

After local man Darf Stueben smoked a huge joint and then listened to side A of the Talking Heads album "Speaking in Tongues" he immediately announced the genius of The Talking Heads and soon pronounced the band was "The Best Group Ever"

Side A of Speaking in Tongues by The Talking Heads

"Are you hearing what I'm hearing?"

"If you get ripped on some super sonic chronic from California," said Darf, "and play this album then you will agree [The Talking Heads] are unsurpassed in originality and talent. All you have to do is listen!"
Mr. Stueben then packed a water bong full of a variety of cannabis identified as "Purple Party Dream" and smoked some more.
"It's for my seasonal affective disorder," explained Darf. "It helps my neck pain too," he added.
 Mr. Stueben pointed out that enjoying the album is preferable to playing a CD or other digital media.
" Only vinyl captures the mood and attack of this music. And it forces you to listen to the music in the order it was intended to be listened to which is the exact order that it should be listened to and the order that the band chose for full effect, or whatever."

Darf, moments before being overcome by a fit of coughing

Mr. Stueben paused for a full five minutes, entranced by the sound vibrating from his vintage 1975 Magnavox turntable console. At times he appeared to stop breathing. Then he asked, "Is someone's phone ringing?"

Rehearsal

I've wasted too much time renting space in resentment housing. The rent is low there but the neighbors never stop complaining about my midnight crying. I either have to grow up or get thicker walls and we all know I'm not going to grow up any time soon because that would put me in the company of some drawn out rat race hustlers who pimped themselves out to dreams their parents whispered to them while they slept. Not lies but propaganda and indoctrination like the Lorax shilling 3D film, chocolate chip pancakes and Mazda cars that get worse gas mileage than my 1974 Vespa Ciao. If Jesus could sell hamburgers he would be raised on the golden arches with ketchup coming out his nose.
Someone else may luck out on the $250 Sr-500 Bartolini pickup bass guitar I foolishly passed up back at the Hawk Shop by the bridge that crushed a truck but that can't prevent me from sharpening my rhythm guitar skills. Three and 4 note chords are all that are expected of the big band and or swing band rhythm guitarist. The grips are a few more than 20 and cover most scenarios that Bob Wills can throw at me. The new band will be called The Cow Punchers from Amarillo. We won't be from Amarillo and we won't punch cows but the important thing is to swing like a clock dangling from Nat King Cole's pompadour. Tickets go on sale February 30th.

Animal Caretaker WG-5048-05

**Amended Benifits Section Removed** About the position: This is a temporary position not to exceed one year. Number of Vacancies: We expect to fill 1 vacancy at this time. This announcement is open to all U.S. citizens - applicants outside the Federal government may apply along with current Federal

Agency:	National Park Service
Location:	Maui Island,Hawaii (Haleakala National Park, HI)
Salary:	$19.89 to $23.20 / Per Hour
Open Period:	Friday, February 17, 2012 to Friday, March 02, 2012

Painting Walls

Harmonic Tan should go with everything except my golf shirt. I got tired of taping all the trim and then having the paint go under it anyway and I have to scrub it off and repaint all the areas that didn't get paint. So I cut in with a brush carefully to the beat of Radio Bop and the whining dog as it dies of thirst under the stairs. Then I get paint on my golf shirt and suck it off with my duck lips. Since we're all keeping track this is my community service sentence for pleading guilty to being a hobo of ill repute. I get paid in donuts and dog treats while I wait for my Guatemalan visa to be processed.

Quetzalcoatlus: RIP

What does the Fox News audience care abut the Quetzalcoatlus? They watch their watered down Simpsons and listen to the news spin around like a broken washing machine in the rubbery jowls of pasty presenters while the furry Lorax is morally kidnapped to shill IHop chocolate chip pancakes, Mazda SUVs used by soccer moms burning Iranian children to get their own children to flute practice, and also, left wing political conspiracies. I'd love to be able to give you a picture of a living Quetzalcoatlus but that's impossible since they are now extinct and it's all because of the selfish proclivities of the Taco Bell generation who have dinner at the drive through and learn their economics from an Kebler elf chosen for her breast size. Let's all sleep soundly with our Ambien pills snoring through the whisper of wind on the Quetzalcoatlus' wings as he glides gently over the fern prairies, content with the world. These animals needed our protection and we shit on them just like we are attacking the Arctic Wolf on all sides. There is no mercy from the merciless and the spell check mentality that keeps us in our easy chairs while the magnificent Quetzalcoatlus rots in his desert grave. Go on and live with the blood of the Quetzalcoatlus on your hot sauce stained hands. Once monkeys roamed the parched desert and died in fierce anonymity and now our Cadillacs roll over the dusty remains of the Quetzalcoatlus, once man's friend and once the symbol of great majesty in this corrupt land, now a distant reminder of our senseless assault on the habitat of the impoverished Dixie werewolves.