"Tut tut, Timon."
So sayeth grandpa.
Back in my church-goin' days, I found that an excellent way to avoid pretty much everything I didn't want to do was to be the sound man. It also gave me a key to the church, which had a decent sound system and (for reasons unknown) and four-track recorder!
So way back when, my buddies and I would head over to church and record really odd songs. We called ourselves Tut Tut Timmin, after a classic scene in one of the worst Saturday morning cartoons that has ever been on tv: The Mighty Hercules.
Today I remastered some of those songs and made a webpage to showcase them. It's not public. Shit, were we terrible. Terrible and strange.
But we had a lot of fun.
So sayeth grandpa.
Back in my church-goin' days, I found that an excellent way to avoid pretty much everything I didn't want to do was to be the sound man. It also gave me a key to the church, which had a decent sound system and (for reasons unknown) and four-track recorder!
So way back when, my buddies and I would head over to church and record really odd songs. We called ourselves Tut Tut Timmin, after a classic scene in one of the worst Saturday morning cartoons that has ever been on tv: The Mighty Hercules.
Today I remastered some of those songs and made a webpage to showcase them. It's not public. Shit, were we terrible. Terrible and strange.
But we had a lot of fun.
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There's an awful lot of weirdness in SG Land. So far the best one in my book is getting added to the "favorite girls" selection by friends who then email me to say "uh, great set, I'm sure... but I couldn't look at it because, y'know, I'd feel weird." Which is cool and totally understandable, but also makes it so damn bizarre that they're effectively pimping me out to whoever browses their journals.
It takes a certain kind of mindbending logic to reach the point where that makes sense.