My other car is a tiny penis.

Words of wisdom, terror, love, hate, threats and of course endearment; from it's elephant's.


Tumblr is some dumb shit, as is summer. Everyone should listen to Imprint today, by the late, great, great Vision of Disorder. Be sure to get a nose bleed.

Eat hell.

Thanks, truck stop bathroom vending machine. Now we’re on the express train to Bonertown!

Thanks, truck stop bathroom vending machine. Now we’re on the express train to Bonertown!

Buy our record, gets along.

Guaranteed easier to like than hot weather that is comparable to living in steaming hot bath water, or in a asshole. If either one of those things were possible. At the very least, listen to some of it here.

To hell with Sundays

We are back home. A very special no thanks goes out to rainy weather, borrowing money, late nights and blank faces. A very special thank you very much you wonderful thing, goes out to; El Cantador, The Alabama Music Box, The Nick (and the sound guy), Wayne Campbell, Garth Algar, Bill Range, Carrie Copeland, Beth Priddy, Victoria Lane, Richard Slade and Tom Tom.

The great old run on maze.

Earlier this morning, probably around 3:35 a.m, before the current 4:27 a.m Ring experience; a man named Dick went into some still undecidedly weird conversation with a woman he just met about how her cheerful appearance made him want to get a milkshake with her.
Around 4:13 a.m a conversation ensued and the question was asked, creepy? Some say that they believe a comment such as that would be 45% creepy. Dick, he believes that a milkshake is a symbol of a wholesome act, shared with wholesome people. Some agreed, others disagreed. At 4:15 a.m everyone agreed on watching The Ring. We finished watching Wayne’s World at 4:00 a.m, Brent pushed for Wayne’s World 2 until about 4:10 a.m. 
Based on this, what time will Dick’s train arrive in Birmingham and will his milkshake have melted?



Because he said so…

Richard-Dick-Slade, our managerish tag-along started his own blog (because he has to have everything that everyone else has) so he could update the world on his dismal outlook of life. He will not get off of our fucking backs about it, read it here.

Hello, we are it’s elephant’s, from Mobile, Alabama. Or not.

Here is the very short, yet very tragic story of it’s elephant’s founding member, Buster Scuggens. 

The only thing Buster ever wanted was to be hugged.
It never happened so Mr. Scuggens took his one man
show on the road. 
Armed with only his god given sir name, a suitcase of knives
and a giant cock he kept in a sock, he arrived in Waynesville
void of his unloved shame.
Those knives were to dull to fight off the shock that comes along
with discovering a man that travels with a giant severed cock in a sock.
Buster Scuggens remains here forever, never once hugged and eternally unloved.

That water is good as hell.

Some quick words from one half of it’s elephant’s favorite paranoid android, Marvin;

Now the world has gone to bed,
Darkness won’t engulf my head,
I can’t see by infrared,
How I hate the night,
Now I lay me down to sleep,
Try to count electric sheep,
Sweet dream wishes you can keep,
How I hate the night.