And because I’ve been such a slacker on getting to this (wouldn’t you too???), instead of simply enduring all two hours worth of the Hulkster’s audio ramblings whilst engrossed in household chores (aka cleaning up the wreckage that the weekend’s gaggle of scantily clad cabin fatties wrought at Malibu Manner) and slapping together a lone, perfunctory, half-hearted blog post before returning to documenting the spot botching tendencies of Rocky Mountain Thunder and the wacky, coked to the gills shenanigans of the “Boogie Woogie Man” Jimmy Valiant, I am going to spread out and pace my undivided agony over the course of two weeks and four blog posts, one post for each side of audio cassette tape.
The silver lining in this balding, wrinkly tangerine skinned cloud: I get to get piss fucking drunk for four evenings, not just one. Think of it as part of my training regimen in preparation for the 4th annual AFSC&FC.
Enjoy…the torture of Malibu Sands.