Basement Bunker

Last week, our army's newest member, Acting-Ensign Hedrick, had some housework to attend to. Menial, banal housework during which absolutely nothing interesting happened. Sweep, sweep, sweep... dust, dust, dust... find a new door in the basement...find a new door in the...

Wait. Back up a step.

On his way downstairs, Hedrick slipped on a handful of marbles left there by Lil' Ensign Hedrick, knocking over a disused water-cooler and a stack of surfboards in the process. When he came to a few hours later, he looked up to see this old friend staring him in the face:

Not a Biohazard LP.

Behind all the dust and debris, this helpful signpost led Gary to a real, live fallout shelter from this country's best war, the Cold War. Well, he did what any good soldier would do and polished her up, checked the floor joices, and stocked the larders with plenty of canned rations and MREs. And after spending some time down there in the dark, he retrofitted it with the ultimate in recording hardware: A laptop microphone.

Here are the fruits of his labor:
Tired_Of_You.mp3

The (slightly) louder version is available here: Foo_Tired of You

The only downside - to plug in the laptop, something had to give. "Something," in this case, was a school of goldfish. Fortunately, no fish were harmed in the writing of this post.*

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*CORRECTION: TWO fish were harmed in the writing of this post.

Land Ho!

When last we left our fearless Admiral Boyle, he was stranded out at sea with nothing to help pass the time but his trusty guitar, a laptop, diesel generator for said laptop, seven cans of gas for said generator, a dog-eared issue of Club International* and a pringle-can wifi antenna that was spotty at best. He drifted about for a few days trying to find inspiration, some kind of muse or stimuli, a goddamn wireless signal so he could triangulate his location, something!

Now there are a lot of things in this great, big ocean of ours, and it turns out that most of them are water. You would think that this sea of endless blue would discourage, but Joe managed all right, and even found someone that he got along with:

Sweet tortoise-shell finish!

Olive was a sweet girl who found herself in a "family way" and needed some help. Knowing, as all good Navy officers do, that sea turtles of the family Cheloniidae will return to their place of birth in order to lay their eggs**, Admiral Boyle tethered his life-raft to Senorita Ridley's shell and hitched a ride. When they finally beached, Joe held her flipper and wiped her brow with a moist cloth while she dug in the sand to deposit her young ones.
Soon after, this happened:


Joe named them all Marvin.
Can you blame him? With that kind of inspiration, anyone's thoughts would quickly turn to love (and the making of.) Also, the salt-water dementia was starting to set in. It was all Joe could do to avoid stepping on the adorable little buggers as he ran to lay down this saucy little number:

Marvin, you are so close to being in a Tool video.

Download Joe Boyle's desert-island Let's_Get_It_On.mp3

And listen to the old, blurry one here: Gaye_Let's Get It On

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*No hyperlink for that one, dirtbag.
**It's right after Basic Training, in Not-So-Basic Training.