Bangin' Fingers

Hello everyone,

Your humble servant-savant Quincy Hoist here, attempting an anonymous
mass communique amongst a select group of associates on behalf of his
mysterious, stupidly named cohort DJ Teen-Preggnanci.

Birthed of an inside joke gone horribly awry, DJ T-P emerges from his
disgusting cavern approximately once a year when beckoned by a clarion
call of drunkards and wastrels herded together by the great Pan. He is
forced to hold forth at an unspecified Polish manse located in a
sleepy Chicago suburb. There, a sort of luchador pageantry is
undertaken, Rites of Spring performed as a Battle Royale. Traditional
costuming from exotic locales across the globe meets with
decommissioned glassware and repurposed holiday lights in a blurred
bacchanalia to beat the band.

And the band is indeed beaten. As bottles are emptied and the
last-man-standing mentality takes hold, the clatter and throb of pagan
rhythms are throttled at length by this mystic, this abominable
hypnotist. Segue after segue call new dancers to the fore as the last
batch are unceremoniously brushed from the killing-dancefloor,
dispatched as fodder to stoke the blaze. Transitions from movement to
movement make no sense at all but hook the participants into an unholy
pact with their gleeful declaration of the Absurd. A formal lemma
condemning the formality of logic, a proclamation on the precipice.

At long last, evidence of these undertakings has surfaced in the form
of two isolated acts from this play of the damned. While information
remains foggy, it is believed that the first segment, the
VISCOUSTIMIX, served as an opening salvo of psychic ammunition, a slow
pulse set to lure the actors to the stage. The second portion,
disturbingly and evocatively titled IMAGINE ALL THAT MILK, seems to
find the process well underway and the casualties mounting as the room
is suffumigated with the devil's funk.

I am compelled to recommend you all to take in these crude snapshots
of something that rejects the very notion of civilization. It is
essential that we know What We Are up Against. I do urge you to take
precautions when doing so, as to take these waves on with a mind and
spirit ungirded is to invite paroxysms of madness that may never be
quelled. Onward, lest we slip in the muck!

VISCOUSTIMIX: http://www.sendspace.com/file/w6ql77
IMAGINE ALL THAT MILK: http://www.sendspace.com/file/y3pjag