HE CAN FLY HE CAN FLY HE CAN FLY
when life gives you nuts you make butter. and then people’s throats close up. welcome to the year two thousand an nineteen, where not-so-suddenly old is new and new is so old. soon it’s gonna be hip to saran wrap the furniture in the room that you never even hang out in. and you’ll only listen to the radio, sitting in a chair in the hallway, by the faux wind up phone, ’cause that’s the only place that gets ‘faux’ reception. only thing is that that stuff will all be digital. but you’ll break it (slightly) to make it sound grainy and all retro. or you’ll download the ‘gramophone’ plugin from Itunes to make it sound quiet and dusty like an old record. the funny papers will be so tame that the funny will elude. the political commentary will breeze over everyone’s head. and it will be brought to you c/o a wafer thin monitor. disposable. everything is. but all of the lard in the pie will taste like old times. and therefor; good. just like mom (who cooked crap) made. they’re even going to come up with a health conscious (but healthy and gmo) version of lard. be careful out there. what you don’t know will kill you. but good music might not. i’m scared of the future. are you? if you want to be scared together and huddle in a bunker, maybe a good place to hangout would be at not my dog on thursday nights in april. the donefors are gonna be hanging out with canned goods and bibles and qur’ans and all of it, just to get through the thing. we’ll play music, cause that’s the only thing that makes us feel normal in social situations. but it’ll be a safe, happy place. like peter pan. come to a donefors show and you’ll find your happy thawt. and then you’ll fly.
janine, paul, liam and brian