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our maine man acquiants us with an extremely hyper tooth collector - he's fed it on resonant buckets of dexadrine and galvanized sugar-morsels and got it to shake a bit with a sonic slingshot pointed at its toes. seriously fucked-up concret-boogers picked from the golden raisin hole, like 6 east-end crank-heads, all under-aged and drumming for CP in the sewer-god screwed immaculate, hallowed-out partridge jazz and pseudo-soundeffects of brazilian water-spout dance groovy! limited to 75 tar-paper fold-overs with one-of-a-kind marbling collages and gay-boy insert for those prone to car-sickness.