There’s no way they know I was raised by you. But we’ll work nine years together, and eventually I’ll pay you through the internet to finally see you naked. And you’re my boss. Then it’s lingering around Penn Station when a bro with beat-meat for a face asks you where the LIRR runs out of, so you say “Grand Central on 42nd.” But just imagine being in MSG right now at 4 AM on a Tuesday morning listening to XILF: STIKKLEMUZICK. Nothing happening but your mind exploding into a radio show that the Shadow R. Kelly’d on them Jerky Boys, —well. Yet there’s so much ace material here being flipped into reel tender talk-radio that chambers itself at the last minute of your day, but pretending existence isn’t always outside. It’s a blessing by-way of satire in terms of how y’all can package up a podcast on all three-sides. Like a late night viewing of Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure, but the unrated version, and there’s plenty of dimensions. So you kickstand their umbrella into Jones Beach, and it’s a thousand years to get back home; so this literature and tape.
Angels USA is just as burnt as ever, and XILF: STIKKLEMUZICK is their newest in foul-play. Thanks again to Hundebiss Records. Ricky Del Fuego for president:
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