stories
Austin around 1981 was the marriage of heaven and hell for me. I was eighteen or nineteen and hit all the shows at the Ritz, Liberty Lunch, the Continental Club and Club Foot among others, basically living day-to-day. The music scene was supremely rich and on any given night I might be drinking with an emerging blues legend like Stevie Ray Vaughn or singing to Fun, Fun, Fun with the Big Boys. Everybody knew everybody. I worked with Biscuit at a place called Whistler’s, right next to Raul’s (just after it closed) on the drag. We were both cooks there, along with other musicians and artists, like Peter Beck. Breakfast at that place was a mix of ups and downs under the hood vents, with much laughter, love and respect for one another. Biscuit was a favorite of mine, as much for his unrelenting and uncensored performances as his big brother attitude toward me. It sounds strange to say so, but he was a sort of role model, in that he trusted and believed in my individuality and gave me much needed validation. I’d stop by his house from time to time with something for him and show him drawings, and he’d cut my hair with a pair of scissors, cutting off anything that stuck out over his fingers. We had a long talk after the Bad Brains “controversy.” I don’t remember much from those days, to be honest, but I remember the “*&^% Club Foot!” chant on stage in what was probably the last, major, punk show in Austin. In later years, we’d sometimes hang out at one of our day jobs, like Planet K, catching up. Yeah, whatever has happened in all those years since, Biscuit served as a first hand example of how to be free, regardless of all external pressures. Though he probably never would have thought of himself as legendary, he still is in my mind. He rates up there with Walt Whitman as one of the great American individualists. What I wouldn’t give to see him again.
-Tim Jones
Forty three years ago a spontaneous food fight broke out at a Big Boys show at the Paramount Theatre in Austin, Texas. Their show was part of the fifth annual celebration of the release of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. There are still many missing details from that evening. For instance, it is believed that comedian Turk Pipkin was on the bill in addition to the Big Boys. However, he has no recollection of being part of the event. If Turk did not perform, who might have? If you are reading this and remember being in the middle of an epic food fight at the Paramount in 1981, we'd like to hear from you.
Lone Star Skate Legends
Chapter Nine: Crazy Stories: The Big Boys Food Fight at the Paramount, April 25, 1981
Chris Gates, Austin, TX, Tim Kerr, Austin, TX
"You will never play the Paramount again." Guitarist Tim Kerr recalls hearing these words from the flustered and visibly angry General Manager of the Paramount Theatre in Austin, Texas, issued to him and his band mates on a warm spring evening on April 25, 1981. The band was the Big Boys, a beloved punk act on the Texas and national skate scenes. Their show had been cut short after the theatre erupted into an enormous food fight that left the stage, seats, walls and floor littered with the greasy remnants of obliterated Hostess Snack Cakes and Little Debbie Fudge Cakes. Months later, members of the Big Boys heard from fellow friend and Offenders guitar player Tony Offender who worked at the theatre, and he said that the staff continued to find tiny pieces of chocolate cake and vanilla icing in hidden nooks and crannies, including beneath the seats, on the doors, and as high as the rafters thirty feet above the theatre's floor.
As the band stood amongst the ruins of the cake-fueled carnage that night, they reflected with surprise on the unimaginable turn their life in Austin's do-it-yourself punk community had just taken. How had this band of skate bros gotten here? The Big Boys were known to put on a provocative show - complete with tutus, horns and tons of Lone Star beer - but they weren't exactly GG Allin. They’d been shut down at some small clubs and by a high school principal once, but never for inciting a mass food fight with hundreds of upstanding Rocky Horror theatre-goers.
That night the Big Boys found themselves at a bizarre place in local music history - the intersection of punk music and a spontaneous, explosive food fight. Together, both had unexpectedly released a deep wellspring of joy from the unsuspecting adult hearts of those in the theatre. Patrons had shown up for a variety of different reasons - many to see a movie or show off a costume, others to win a contest, and a few possibly to hear some live music. The majority ended up leaving the venue covered in cake, with the memory of a lifetime. The event became legendary in the ledgers of Texan punk history. There's very little to be found about the food fight on the internet or in past issues of local newspapers, but somehow it lives on through the oral tradition of Austinites connected to the punk scene of that era.
Built in 1915, the red bricked Paramount features simple, classical, revival style architecture. Over the decades, it has hosted a variety of entertainment acts - vaudeville, musicals, plays, and movies. Celebrities that have graced the Paramount stage include Jim Gaffigan, President Barack Obama, Little Richard, Dolly Parton, and Harry Houdini. The interior of the theatre is elegant and majestic, with the stage framed by ornate, curved molding. The original fire curtain adds regal flair to the 56-foot, maple and black Masonite adorned stage, as does the plush carpeting beneath well-lit aisles, and row upon row of upholstered armed chairs. The Paramount is proudly regarded by Austinites as a local treasure, a historical symbol of the city's arts and culture, an institution. The theatre has been listed in the National Register of Historic Places since 1976. Paramount Chief Programming Officer Lietza Brass said of the theatre’s history “At the heart of Austin, the Paramount Theatre, once a vaudeville gem, continues to weave its history into a variety of experiences. From Harry Houdini to the raw energy of 80’s punk rock to Americana legends, to the laughter-filled nights of comedy, it's a place where everyone finds their own story.”
The show at the Paramount was an unusual booking for Big Boys. "Big Boys played with other punk bands at clubs like Raul's on the Drag. The Paramount gig was doomed from the start. It just wasn't our crowd," Tim recalled. The evening's schedule is somewhat in dispute, but it is generally believed that the Big Boys opened the event with a musical set followed by a live performance from a local comedian. Then there was a costume contest for which many of the theater-goers had dressed in costumes depicting the film's characters, and finally there was a showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Tim recollects the obvious lack of enthusiasm in the crowd. "We got on stage, looked down and the entire front row was full of disappointed faces. They weren't feeling our music. They seemed unhappy and bored. Like they wanted to be anywhere else." Lead singer Randy "Biscuit" Turner, a captivating showman in his own right, did everything he could to rouse the crowd. He cracked jokes between songs. He encouraged the audience to dance by breaking out some of his best moves. But he couldn't manage to draw the audience in, despite his best efforts.
Before the show started, Biscuit had stowed a large box of expired snack cakes on the side of the Paramount's iconic stage. "Biscuit had a friend who worked in the vending machine business. It was his job to restock the machines, but also to collect and get rid of all the expired stuff. That's where Biscuit got all the cupcakes, Snowballs and Twinkies." Tim said.
As Biscuit's antics failed to amuse, he and the rest of the band grew increasingly frustrated by the underwhelming energy coming from the crowd. He grabbed his box of treats, jumped down from the stage and screamed, “Play an instrumental! Play an instrumental!” The band began playing their surf inspired tune “Public Image Beach” as Biscuit ran up and down the rows of the theatre, throwing cupcakes and Twinkies at anyone who could catch. Who could have predicted what would happen next? After all, the willful mass suspension of manners, etiquette and civility that was about to manifest is exceedingly rare in a public venue. Biscuit continued arming members of the crowd with prepackaged dessert treats, and in good Texan tradition, they kept stockpiling them until critical mass was finally reached. No one knows who threw the first cupcake in malice, but the chaos that ensued was truly remarkable. The Paramount Theatre saw the inner child of every grown man and woman in attendance reign supreme that night. "When you looked across the theatre, all you saw were flying cupcakes and Twinkies. People were pelting each other and smashing them into each other's faces. They were slipping on them in the aisles. We ourselves got hit pretty good up on the stage before the curtain dropped," Tim said. Despite having an amazing time, the band was concerned about the potential fallout from the food fight. "It was fun, but I remember that we were also really worried at the time. We thought we were in some serious trouble, and we definitely hoped there wouldn't be any legal trouble," Big Boys bass player Chris Gates explained. Luckily there was not.
That night the Big Boys achieved, and inspired in others, the ultimate ethos of the band - to have fun. It was a collision of food and music that mirrored the aggressive, anarchistic attitude and chaos of punk.
-Noah Sheetz
I saw them back in 1983 or so in a gallery basement in Connecticut, and they were by far the most badass and original hardcore band I had ever seen. I think I was playing in the Vatican Commandos at the time. I instantly ran up to Chris in the parking lot out back and told him how much I loved the band. It was horrible, because I didn't even have the $4 to buy the record. I vowed to see them again.
I saw them again
some time later with Rick Rubin's band, Hose, at Folk City - a
place in Greenwich Village that wasn't used to seeing the likes
of this punk powerhouse. I can't even describe them as punk or
H/C- it was like seeing the MC5. Since there weren't a lot of
girls playing H/C back then, Chris instantly recognized me at
the show. I just wanted to run away to Texas. That's how blown
away I was.
-Lindsey Anderson
(then Anna Wrecksia of the Vatican Commandos, now Kitty Kowalski
of The Kowalskis)
The Big Boys were
kinda like when I was a kid with my first record player and first
records sitting in my room and playing 'em over and over again
and each time was better than the last. I don't listen to records
much any more and, in fact, I never really had many of them to
begin with. Vinyl is useless, really. But that first experience
is priceless. Kinda like good Irish fiddling jumpstarting my emotions.
Kicking 'em upside the head and the heart and knocking 'em down
to the floor. Then someone else's emotions walk up, hold out a
hand and help me back up. The Big Boys shows were a lot like that.
-Spot
Black Flag would
pull in to town in some dying van. We would play with the Big
Boys and sometimes The Dicks as well. Great gigs in Austin, always.
I remember many times sleeping on the floors of assorted Big Boys
places. Biscuit was one of the greatest frontmen ever, right up
there with Gary Floyd, the singer of The Dicks. The Big Boys were
always in good form and the sheer spirit of their live performances
would fill the place and everybody would go nuts. They always
gave up the funk. What a great band.
-Henry
Rollins
Whenever the Big Boys performed it was, in many ways, like the L.A. riots occasionally violent but always comical. "Stop fighting! Stop fighting!" Biscuit would plead while clad in some outrageous clown suit and doing the "pogo" ala pogo. And although their rocking music was never upstaged by themselves, their stage presence was always something to grin at.
Their last show
ever was a real riot, but that's a story too ticklish to tell.
-Steve
Anderson
At the end of
all those early shows the Big Boys would yell at the audience
"O.K., ya'll go start your own band!" about a year later
everybody at those shows was in a band.
-Bill Daniel
They're nice guys
I wouldn't invite 'em over to my house or anything.
-Glen Taylor
The Big Boys played
a hardcore matinee at CBGB in the early 80's and were fat, loud,
funky and rumor has it, somewhat gay. Wow! They out hardcored
every New York punker and macho skinhead in the joint. Along with
Minor Threat, Faith, Butthole Surfers, and Black Flag they were
the best live band of the era. The next day I saw the singer,
Biscuit, selling his homemade jewelry on St. Marks place and he
was really nice, and he was a skater.
-Thurston
Moore
Yeah we borrowed
their equipment it was kinda shitty.
-Buxf Parrot
I thought I knew
a whole lot, that I was a punk rock motherfucker, but mid way
through a spin of Industry Standard I realized I didn't
know shit.
-Mark Rubin
The Big Boys: "without the taste of Spot's sperm"
Nirvana, whatever you may think of them, made the top of the goddamn charts. There are undoubtedly a lot of reasons why this happened. One of them is in your hands right now. The Big Boys were one of the key sparks in that first gush of bands who defined and made manifest the existence of distinct-but-somehow-connected pockets of punk bands in the false dawn that preceded the hardcore explosion. These bands were splattered across the U.S., living in defiance of the fashion rules being encoded by the pantheon of new-wave-cum-junior-league douchebags who were then trying to prove to major labels that there was nothing for them to fear from (so-called) "punk acts". If these bands had not thrust their aesthetic fists right up the asses of the squares, we'd be living in a culture that's even more hellish than the one we've got.
These were the happy days before the hardcore "happened" before Black Flag embarked on those tours that lit a million fuses. There were good bands, but there was no way to connect the dots between D.O.A. in Vancouver, the Effigies in Chicago, the Misfits in New Jersey, Black Flag in Redondo, the Bad Brains in DC, and the Big Boys in Austin. These bands each had their uniquely great sound, and they produced records to prove themselves, but touring wasn't something anybody considered and distribution was even worse than it is now. Most of these combos wafted through the mists of legend then, as surely as they do now. If you didn't live in their backyard, they were little more than rumors that existed slightly outside the gates of reality. This was especially true of the Big Boys, whose earliest records the "Frat Cars" 45 and Where's My Towel LP were hard-to-find in the days when it was easy to pick up Hardcore '81 or Beware in almost any hip store's "import" bin.
This comp goes a good way to correcting the access that the proles should have always had this stuff. The Big Boys were right in the line of great, fucked-up Texas bands that extends from the 13th Floor Elevators straight through to tomorrow. They had sharp clothes sense, a host of butt-crushing power-chords, a solid jazz-bo back beat, and they swung like fucking whales. It's just unfortunate that this isn't a video disc. Nothing can substitute for the visual punch provided by watching Biscuit shake his massive bootie, while Tim Kerr lurched like a guy hooked up for a last blast on the electroshock machine, Chris Gates loomed over the proceedings like the ominous skate bastard he was. Still, being able to listen to this stuff at all is a goddamn treat.
And now you can
do just that without having to suck-off Spot first. What
a lucky day for you. Enjoy it.
-Byron
Coley
The Big Boys were
the band that everybody loved. Punks, Nu-wavers, and Rockers
everybody! It was always a big deal whenever they'd play
always a party. Randy Turner was (and is) a God the God
"pray to him often"
-Gary Floyd
June 26, 1980
Honest advice
(to a good drummer)
If you're doing inferior songs it doesn't matter how much ENERGY
you put into it: It's STILL an INFERIOR SONG! P.S. Try some Stones!!!
or: the Rascals: "Good Lovin'! P.S.S. The Troggs did "Wild
Thing" much better!!
-Bud Flynn
(formerly of Columbia Records and Tapes)
Henry had met
the Big Boys while on tour with Black Flag in 1981 and told me
that they were really nice people. I knew them only through fanzines
and their Live at Raul's split LP with the Dicks, but I called
Tim about playing in Austin in the summer of 1982. This was Minor
Threat's second attempt at a US tour (the first ended in Madison,
WI, when angry parents demanded the return of the van we were
using) and we were trying to play anywhere that would have us.
We drove straight to Austin from Los Angeles, crossing the desert
and blowing a tire just forty miles from our destination. Tim
and Beth waited for us to get in before they left for work. It
struck me as immensely cool that these people would let five strangers
into their house and trust them enough to leave them there alone.
I remember the air conditioner because it was impossibly hot outside.
The concert was at the Ritz, the shell of a theater in the middle
of the nightlife strip of Austin. The Dicks opened up and I immediately
realized that we were in trouble. Here on stage was this enormous
man with his head completely shaved except for a baby curl sticking
out from the front of his head, with him were three guys who looked
like they had just escaped from some chain gang a different
league altogether. I knew that we would have a difficult time
getting up there after them, but nothing compared to the way I
felt when the next band went on stage the almighty Big Boys.
I felt humiliated, how could we play after this? The Big Boys
pulled out the stops. More enormous men, decorated in jump suits,
food props, great songs, a horn section, 200 friends on stage
singing and dancing... we were fucked. We made it through our
set, maybe it was a good one, I can't recall. I only remember
the other bands. The next year we came back to Austin and did
it right we opened for the Big Boys. The way it should be.
-Ian MacKaye
I could never
have had a "normal" life after the Big Boys. They did
me the favor of showing me just how little I would have wanted
that.
-Beth Kerr
If you told the Big Boys they were the best band in Texas, they would deny it, and rattle off a list of other great bands at the time (but they were of course just being modest). While there was an amazing music scene happening in Texas, it's just that the Big Boys were at the very center of it.
When they played a place like the Ritz Theater or Club Foot in Austin, it was packed with us all crammed in, sweating, dancing, and having a great time. While many of their hardcore contemporaries simply tried to play faster and faster, the Big Boys followed their own directions. It's one reason their music still sounds great.
Among other things, they were pioneers in blending funk with hardcore. At some of their bigger shows they would bring out full horn sections and play "Hollywood Swinging" or "The Horse" as well as any soul band on the planet (they even played with DC go-go treats Trouble Funk several times). In turn you would see the odd site of hundreds of kids in mohawks and Black Flag t-shirts all dancing away to Kool and the Gang covers.
Besides being
a great band, they were also great people. They actively set up
shows, encouraged touring bands to play Austin, and generally
did their best to make the "scene" in Austin and nationwide
a great place to be. For example:
- When the Big Boys took off on a national tour, Chris did the
unthinkably nice thing and let the Butthole Surfers stay in his
house and use the Big Boys' practice space. As a result, most
of Another Man's Sac was written or refined in his garage.
- The first show the Buttholes ever got paid for was a show the
Big Boys invited them to play. It seemed virtually every band
and everyone in Austin had a similar story of gratitude towards
the Big Boys (here's mine: when I first moved to Austin and didn't
really know anybody in town, Tim let me store stuff in his garage
until I got settled and I still probably have some rotting
Tupperware lurking in the back corner of his garage).
Perhaps the ultimate Big Boys song for me was "Fun, Fun, Fun". It reflected their attitude toward music and life, and was a virtual theme and anthem not just for them, but for everybody at the time. When they'd play it, the stage would be filled with the crowd singing the chorus. True to form, when they recorded it, they invited everybody to come along and sing (in effect recognizing that Big Boys' fans were as much a part of the band as the musicians themselves).
The Big Boys were
a great band and I miss them.
-King Coffey
The Big Boys in
motion were a freight train of leather, torn jeans, spilled draft
beer and smeared lipstick, plowing through audiences mercilessly.
Deafening, lightning quick funk riffs played at supersonic speed
clashed with impromptu conga lines formed by a severely inebriated
audience. The Big Boys were the creators of a post modern woodstock
nation, slamming away at Kool and the Gangs' "Hollywood Swinging"
while their mohawked and boot-chained cheerleaders trashed clubs
gleefully. Entire bars turned into pogo-pits. Chairs flew, drinks
dumped, people did the bump. Whack-a-delic, man. It was a frenzied
Fun 'n' Punk Rock, anarchy, whatever. Hearing these songs now
is beyond "Golden Oldies". It brings it all back
Biscuit in a tutu, Tim with his axe on the floor, the chaos. It's
a waltz down memory lane in jackboots with a hangover. It's a
necessary part of R 'n' R history. If you're an old fan, it'll
make you grin like a Jack o' Lantern. If by any chance you never
heard them before, turn the volume up real loud and fasten your
seatbelt, motherfucker this is dangerously good stuff.
-Pleasant
Gehman
"Fun, Fun, Fun" was the first Big Boys record I ever heard. When it was released in '82 I was a Junior in High School. My only previous knowledge of the Big Boys was from several true-fiction comicbook type stories in Thrasher magazine championing their exploits in the pre-skaterock era.
The Big Boys were different from all the other really popular "Big" bands at the time, like the Dead Kennedys, Black Flag, Bad Brains, and the Circle Jerks. They weren't as scary, their music was more "fun" oriented (perhaps they could historically be considered a precursor to unbelievable crap like the Red Hot Chili Peppers or even Primus, yikes!), and in retrospect, most importantly they were musically a better band than the others. Hey, I still frequently listen to the Big Boys records, I can't say the same for the other groups. Me and all of my pals thought they were great. Hell, one of them even owned a Zorlac Big Boys Skateboard.
My only chance to see them was in August of '83 at the Centro-American Social Club on Broadway here in Chicago. There was no way I was going to miss that show.
Of course, I did.
As it turned out, that was the day I was going to start "The Next Chapter of the Rest of my Life"; a College Education. Fuck that, I wanted to see the Big Boys. My friend Barry Stepe went to the show and had his face split open by a hormone OD-ing stage diver.
Ten years later,
I still say, "What a Great Band".
-John Mohr
Sometime after I arrived at college in 1980, I bought a couple of Big Boys records out of Wax Trax's budget bin. The staff at the store didn't know dick about anything other than euro-arty-queer music so the best records were often found in the dollar bin. One of the records had a goofy screen-printed cover that was so new wave it almost put me off, and the other had a preposterous skate/anarchy logo that equally spoke to me. In retrospect, I'm surprised I gambled the two bucks.
Anyway, the Big Boys' peculiar split personality (one part Black Flag, one part Cameo) became part of the soundtrack to my college years and I found myself preaching to my friends about them regularly.
When they played in Chicago I was front and center, transfixed by the brawling rhythm section of the stocky Chris Gates and the boyish Reynolds Washam and the twin weirdness of the oddly-haired alien guitar scientist Tim Kerr and the Titanic Randy "Biscuit" Turner, who reminded me of one of those tutu-clad dancing hippos from Fantasia.
Santiago's Girlfriend Diane used to carry a cassette recorder everywhere, and she taped that show, concluding the tape by riding away on her vespa, a dimming 100-strong chorus of punk rockers singing "whoa-whoa" gradually being consumed by the sound of her motor.
I remain convinced.
-Steve
Albini
Years ago at Dischord
house I remember Biscuit slaving in the kitchen all day, making
chicken and dumplings for a big dinner. What a chef. Rey helped
me till our entire backyard and landscape it all while they were
in town. Chris and Tim and I would use each others' silkscreens
to make funny pillowcases and such with Big Boys on one side and
Minor Threat on the other. Tim was always eager to paint his anarchy
A/skateboard graphic on anything that wasn't moving. When we would
visit Austin they were amazing hosts, showing us skateboarding
hot spots and introducing us to new spicy foods. The Big Boys
were a great band with a genuine spirit and groove, very fun to
sing along with and dance to.
-Jeff Nelson
Skaters don't have time for shitty music. They'd rather trespass on private property or deface public curbs. Stuntwood commandos who get a thrill putting their life on the line look for music that means something, singers that aren't imitating someone else, lyrics that scream for you to listen, and tight grinding instrumental expressions. Swirling around in empty swimming pools, barreling down steep drainage canals, or performing sleight of foot on most level surfaces, nothing less than the most sincere sounds will do on a skater's quest for death or glory.
The Big Boys provided
the perfect charge for countless backyard bowl burlers from beyond.
With soaring anthems of individuality, rebellious funky party
songs and fast pounding voodoo rhythms, they played it with heart.
A Big Boys' gig was a landmark event, done up rightly in true
Texas fashion. Concerts indubitably became free-for-alls, with
everybody and their sister flying, flailing and gyrating under
the lights of the stage. "We got soul, let's take control,"
was the battle cry and it rings as true today as it ever did before.
Bow To No Man,
Brian Brannon
I don't think
I was in a band when I first heard the Big Boys. It was 1985 and
I just remember dancing around like crazy in my room to these
funky songs. Too bad I never got to see them live. Maybe it's
good I might have had a seizure.
-Sooyoung
Park
The Big Boys played
at the Cathey de Grande which later turned into the China Club.
Everyone went to see them. Opening were the Red Hot Chili Peppers,
it was their second show. We thought they were some kind of joke
band, the "Little Big Boys". When the Big Boys hit the
stage the roof almost came off. Biscuit in dress, Tim playing
through a broken reel to reel. Then they played "Hollywood
Swinging" everybody went nuts. They fucked shit up.
-Skatemaster
Tate
I remember, somehow
my friend Stacy Davis pulled off a total scam in high school
she said she wanted her band to play at this spring party on the
campus she said she played tambourine for the Big Boys (yeah
right) but the school bought it and made them eligible to play
in our sorry-ass high school parking lot one hot april afternoon.
Of course they were late (well Rey Washam was late) and of course
the authorities pulled the plug not even halfway through. But
for maybe five songs I was blessed with the collision of my two
worlds: a sea of gaping-mouthed fraternity bound jocks and their
female equivalents watching the raw, funky, unapologetic euphoria
that only the Big Boys could generate. It was like a high school
Punk Rock fantasy come true.
-Chris
Levack
2 interlocking Haiku for Tim Kerr's Dreadlocks
At punchline practice
Biscuit, pink chiffon
Ass-kicking attempts all paled
Says "life is just a party"
In the face of "No."
Bruised from my couch-dives
-Jay Robbins
Going to Texas
for the first time, it was '83 or '84. We didn't know what to
expect. I imagined lots of driving through black nights and rattlesnake
suns, lonely roads and dealing with redneck cops and ass-kicking
punk-hating cowboys. I didn't expect to be with 500 or so other
people sweating our butts off to the Big Boys. My brother remembers
us waiting for them to play that "money song". It's
all kind of blurred meeting Tim Kerr and seeing all these
bones and skulls at his house, Yikes! A Texas Bar-B-Que in Biscuit's
frontyard, swimming at the Indian springs, getting laid outside
in some park...Kick Ass! You can easily describe most bands but
with the Big Boys it's a bit harder to explain their persona and
sound. I'm sure to lots of people they mean a lot of things to,
me, I'll just say Fun. I'm sorry to say I never saw her or the
Big Boys again.
-Pete Stahl
Always fun. Although
it's been said many times, they were way ahead of their time.
The highest common denominators.
-Jeff Newton