As you prepare to wave goodbye to the old year, 2008—a tin can tied to the
back of the Just Married car, clattering off into the distance, you can start to
focus on the swiftly atrophying bag of gravy just below your neck. You’ve
begun to resemble the state of Missouri, with strange little bits dangling off.
You’re tempted to swallow a little jello powder and crawl into your mold
forever, but my medical crystal ball shows you as a vibrant, pulsating vein atop
Michael Chiklis’s head in 2009, with the promise for becoming a full Chiklis.
The new You begins be sure to nail a monkey’s paw to your calendar on the date January 17.
For on that Saturday at 7 pm, Life in a Blender returns in a procession of
regal pageantry to the stage at Joe’s Pub in New York City. The Colony
Collapse Horns will be in full bleat. And we’ll be playing with the ultra-magnified
and ultra-dignified Les Sans Culottes.
Also, on Sat., Jan 3, Don will pull the rip cord on the New Year in Seattle
with an acoustic set of Life in a Blender music when the superfine musicians of
the West join in for a set featuring Kurt Armbruster on upright bass, Greg
Ferenecko on guitar, and Ben Morrow on percussion. The show is at the Mars bar
on Eastlake at 10 pm.
Just read the reviews:
“They said Cher could never be tamed and thunder never shared
—well Life in a Blender does both.”
—The Wall Street Journal
“A depraved caterwauling that makes grown men wet their pants.”
  —The New York Times
“If the paisley police come to arrest me, tell them I’ve taken a trip down
miniskirt lane via Peace Pike with two fingers in the air and a song of freedom
written across my proud chest
somewhere beyond all the hair
but there underneath a bunch of crap. ”
—The Herald World Tribune
“A Life in a Blender show runs like this: grey to black to beige to toenail
red to pale yellow to cusp-of-puberty orange to dingo brown to white with some
dots to puce and back.”
—The Gazette for Contemporary Modern Business Thought
“Ink up my Seal of Approval because I’ll be using it all night long, stamping
each song ‘Approved!'”
—The Royal Canadian Intelligencer
“A night tailor-made for fun-niks.”
—The Chronicle of Industry and Righteous Behavior
“Their three-hour encores are legendary single-note guitar wallows during
which the lead singer’s barks like a tommygun and the rest of the band acts as if
they’re applying the Heimlich maneuvre to their
long-dead instruments.”
—The World Capitol Globe
“I felt like Hamlet’s uncle was pouring hot poison in my ear. But that would
me make me Hamlet’s father and that’s pretty awesome. ”
—The Annual Record of Statistical
Face Cramp News says: “I get a big face cramp just thinking about you being
The Servant’s Tablet says: “You’ll feel like you’re at our holiday party in
the root cellar near the main house.”
The Mocking Lisping Fainting Prostitute says: “Wait…I’ll need my jewelerth
loop to thee that…that…that…[clunk].”
The Fifth Guinness says: “Here’s to our wives and girlfriends: May they never
The Self-Loving Astronaut says: “Let’s start the countdown to touching
myself! You won’t believe what happens after Zero!”
What Happens After Zero says: “You’ll feel like you just rode
Seabiscuit…..through the car wash…..with your wives and girlfriends. Let’s hope
Seabiscuit and them never meet. Who am I kidding?!?! They love Seabiscuit.”
Alfred from Batman says, “I’m sorry Mr. Wayne but this is the one hour a week
I have to myself at the city pool. You’ll have to pull the Joker’s
laugh-thistles out yourself…..with YOUR OWN tweezers.”
And with his new found courage, Alfred abruptly grabs the tweezers from the
Batman’s hand, swivels on his heel, and walks three desolate miles down a long
tunnel. Camera zooms in on the Batman. His face registers panic, followed by
smug self-assurance. The Batman holds his glove in front of his nose, and
slowly rising, mysteriously from his glove, are another pair of tweezers. He
reaches back and begins struggling, trying to pull out another thistle. His
expression is emotionless.
The silence is broken by the Batman’s whisper:
“Go for your swim, Alfred….uhh!”
[The Batman pulls out a thistle from his backside…he plunks it in a large
jar full of thistles.}
“Leave me here alone…uhh!”
[Another thistle plucked and dropped into the jar.]
“But I know something you don’t Alfred…uhh!
[one more thistle plucked and plunked]
“You forgot your swim trunks….uhhhh!”
[and with that final “uhhhh,” the Batman plucks a pair of swim trunks from
somewhere and they dangle before him on the end of his tweezers.

Posted via email from Iron Man Records