Did you ever have that dream…

You know the one.

You’re completely naked save for a fine sheen of sweat and a  battered pair of Tony Lama roper’s boots.  You’re in a shaky, arthritic sort of three-point stance over a miniature traffic cone, fingers two knuckles deep in avocado-green shag carpet.  From somewhere in the nebulous distance, Mark Lanegan sings The Girl From Ipanema as a tail-coated Charles Manson paddles your ass with the backside of a ukulele.

You haven’t?

Neither have I.

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