I have returned to my once-a-month cycle of a non-stop-Bloody-Beetroots blowout and I have noticed that I keep envisioning claymation-skeletal figures arising from the mossy earth jingle-gangling about their cartilage-lacking bones in duck-soup fashion, then revealing Venom masks and fostering a chaotic frenzy of mosh-pitting-excellence and crowd-surfing-professionalism.
