TSG Sun

Many, many years ago, when dinosaurs roamed the land and The Farmboys were a common name around the fiefdom of Champaign and Urbana, I heard a song. “That’s when I reach for my revolver,” would ring thru my head. Sweet baby jesbu, The Farmboys have a hit! Then around ‘97 I heard it again. This time it was Moby. Moby, covering a Farmboys song. Maybe Pink Floyd was right, and pigs do fly. Finally, a few weeks ago, while building a shed, a friend popped in a Mission of Burma CD, it was good, But then, the song, again. It had found me.

So I am happy. But I’ll be happier when I can find the Galva beat-up mix and the Secret Goldfish bootleg cassettes. There’s also that Timble tickle tape.

I’m sitting at my computer, feeling like I’ve been run over. But it’s a good feeling. The turkey’s been carved and everyone’s been fed. The dishes are clean and the house is back in order, thanks to my lovely wife. MB and I hosted our 4th Thanksgiving this year. Much smaller than a previous venture involving 40 guests, but a bit more relaxing. We had 14 adults including Randy and Gretchen. Brad Krohn and his wife, Beth, were also here. Other friends from Illinois and some new friends from Oregon.

Anyway, I just wanted to wish everyone a happy Thanksgiving. And I’m putting out a suggestion for a shitty guy thanksgiving. I’ll even host the dinner and make the turkey.

Taken at Tall Rich’s house in September of 06, the day after the Didjits reunion. And there’s that guy nobody knew lurking in the background, staring at the camera. Click to enlarge.

Come on people. post some shit(ty guys stuff)