Thank you for your ongoing support and patience with our small operation. Our office is PERMANENTLY closed. We are continuing to accept and fill orders for the time being, but we ask that you please be patient with us. Take care of yourselves and each other and continue to support these amazing artists however and wherever you can.
In this episode of "We'll Drink / Eat It!", a friend gave us a TSA-sized sample of Puerto Rican moonshine for us to swill before we started the long weekend. Here's what our shine runner had to say about what we were about to taste:
Made in Puerto Rico by a cousin I've never met, acquired from the trunk of...Read more
Every year this thing called the South by Southwest Festival happens in Austin TX. It's a free-for-all of sleazy music industry hacks and ladder climbers, musicians by the freight car load chasing/living the dream, deadbeats cabbaging free energy drinks and designer vodkas at any one of a thousand corpo-life-style day parties, bloggers documenting every spontaneous utterance or chord instantly, sleep-deprived...Read more
For many years our label manager was one Steven Dube. He left the music racket in order to pursue his dream of being in the US Foreign Service. We assume he is doing good.
After cushy postings in Milan, Italy and Seoul South, Korea, Steve now finds himself in Chengdu, China. He recently sent the office a big box of...Read more
Meatpaper is a wonderful publication out of San Francisco that explores the love and art of meat. So when they called for readers to submit essays on "The Worst Meat I Ever Ate" to be published in their fall 2010 issue (get it here), Rob Miller answered the call (after being nudged by JP to submit). For some reason, Meatpaper passed on Rob's essay, and JP was fired as Rob's literary agent. Whatever the case was for the rejection, here's the unpublished essay:
Gai Farang,
Or, why I became a temporary vegetarian in Thailand
By Rob Miller
Traveling by motorcycle in Issan, the remote and untouristed northeastern part of Thailand, my friend and I went to the only restaurant in Khong Chiam, a dusty, sleepy town on the Mekong River overlooking Laos. At the only other occupied table were three visibly potted middle-aged Thai men who enthusiastically gestured for us to join them. The gentlemen, the head schoolmaster, the mayor and the area’s government liaison, were red-eyed and reeling. "A feast is in order," one shouted. "It is an honor to entertain you," and they commanded the drowsy staff into action.Read more
"There comes a time when every man feels the urge to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and start slitting throats.
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