RANTS and RAVES

Ya got something to say? Well do ya, PUNK????

We have things to say! Check out our individual little rants to the right>>>>>>>>>>> When you go there, please forgive the total lack of formatting. I mean, it is a rant. Who has the time to worry about punctuation and proper sentence structure when you are on a roll?

If you have something to say, say it here! We don’t care what you say! Let your voice be heard! Let the power of one influence many! We don’t care what it’s about! This is a little exercise in Freedom of Speech! Just enter a comment below.

And if yours truly, the editor of the Rheme Cleo website likes what you say, I may even publish it to the net! Oh, the power that I have!

It kind of reminds me of a time when we were touring through the former Soviet Republic. Now mind you, this was back when you really had to be careful over there. It was hard enough getting our gear and stuff over the Berlin Wall, traipsing across East Germany and all that. Well right in the middle of dinner in some little pub, Tim realizes that he forgot his drumsticks at the last check-point that we crossed. It was nerve wracking enough trying to hijack a bunch of equipment through the checkpoint, but now Tim gets this wild-hair up his butt about going back to get his sticks. So we grumble a little and decide to draw straws to see who will go with him. Well, lucky me, I draw the short straw. Great. Now, if you know Tim, you know that he spent a good part of his younger days in Germany, where his dad was a General in the Air Force. So Tim knows some German. So he decides that this would be a good time to carry on a completely German conversion, while we work our way back to the Worcesterbrucken check point. On and on he goes. Bla, Bla, Bla. Keister yaboo hindershoven ya ya ya douester ya braezerdorf hindenschmickle. I have no clue. Finally, we get there, and he starts talking German. The guards are looking at him like he’s a maniac. Then they start laughing. Then they are rolling on the ground. Well, Tim never did find his sticks. We had to play that whole leg of the tour with Tim on bongos, that he bartered for in some village called Fruchachten. It was the beginning of a lot of bongo playing for Tim. He’s gotten pretty damn good. We never did find out what the hell the guards were laughing about. No wonder Communism didn’t work. Oh, and we made it back across Europe.

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