You need to grab a shitload of that marvelous cider, I'll bring some of John Jameson's very finest, plus some of the vile dark stuff, call together a bunch of close friends, and we will sit and drink it all while singing silly songs. After words, we will scratch, spit, and exorcise the demons in our bowels, and try to call in coyotes with bodily function sounds until we fall asleep around the campfire.

The blues could not possibly survive a night like that spent among good friends, neh?

Love ya,

Mick