Everybody’s gotta do their own thing, okay? And I don’t want to bum out anyone’s trip, man, but these Snowdogs aren’t playing their music to let it vibe with what we all know to be the cosmic flow, the unconscious musical consciousness that resides above us and within and all around us man. The Dead plugged their jams into the great cosmic All, and so did Phish, but like maybe to a lesser extent than The Dead, dude, ’cause Garcia man, he even gave of his own flesh, one of his fingers, to the otherside where all music truly lives. You know? Not like here where the notes dissipate on the air and disperse into the ether. On the otherside every note played and like every jam improvised lives forever in perfect harmonious being. But not this stuff, man. This stuff doesn’t have the Kismet to break through, to break on through to the otherside like Jim said. Snowdogs, first make me think of snow and cold and like being cold and second of dogs and dogs in the snow and cold dogs too man, in the snow, and of Cuba Gooding, jr. and of Walt Disney and the exploitation of blacks and that’s just like too much bad mojo for me to handle. It’s a total bring down and I don’t want to listen to music that brings me down man. It’s enough I have to deal with the pigs who keep bustin’ up my drum circle at the park, you know? Please, take this away. You totally ruined my buzz man. Hey don’t, man. Ow, that’s part of my face man. Leave me alone.