And one day, in the mighty halls of the Carlislian wilderness, a
child was born. Christened with an
English name and submitted to the normative culture of the environ, he grew and built up a resorvoir of knowledge... and rock. And then, upon being found that his name was too hard to remember by some stoner camp counselor, he was knighted. He was granted from the mighty halls of
nirvana and valhala (which are indeed
two seperate places but are really close to eachother on Pitt St.) the name of glory, the awsome-est of awsome nomme de plume. From there on out, he was to be called
SPAM!!! Then he learned to play guitar, learned of a magical elixir called "Firewater", and now is the most rockenist manbeast of all South-Central PA.
Spending a night with
SPAM (spamicus awsomenus)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Thing 1: "Hey, what do you want to do tonight?"
Thing 2: "We could go to the diner."
Thing 1: "Nah, give
Spam a call, see what he's doing. Maybe we can go
jam."
Thing 2: "Ok"
