You’re welcome.

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Okay, time to clear the table. That’s right – push yourself back a few inches, climb to your feet, and start gathering up the plates. Chop chop! Hey … don’t throw that ladle at me! OUCH!

Well, I hope YOUR Thanksgiving was better than this. Here at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, it’s catch as catch can, as you might expect. We have no particular tradition with respect to this holiday; no frantic cooking, no decorations, no ritual television viewing or binge shopping. Just another pot of gruel, boiled to a fare-the-well, and ladled out to the dwindling contingent that is the Big Green collective. Solidarity forever!

Actually, it sounds worse than it is. Everybody wants an extra day off, right? Now, you might be justified in asking, “Day off from what?” My only rejoinder would be that it takes a lot of creative energy to write, record, and distribute songs in this day and age. In anticipation of the question, I have asked Marvin (my personal robot assistant) to use his electronic brain to calculate the number of calories required for the various stages of what we typically do on a weekly basis. He whirred and buzzed and blinked for a few moments, until a thin slip of tickertape emerged from his mouth-like grill bearing the following inscription:

START REPORT: COMPOSITION: 347 CALS; PRE-PROD: 140 CALS; RECORDING: 583 CALS; POSTING: 75 CALS …. ALL AMOUNTS AVG PER CAPITA … END REPORT

How many hoagies is that suit?Telling figures indeed. (Note: I may have transposed a couple of digits here and there, but no matter.) So, from start to finish, a Big Green song consumes 1,045 calories per person. That’s less than a standard hoagie from the corner deli. (Granted, they are bigger than the average hoagie.) If you were to try to put a precise cost on our songwriting enterprise, you could express it in terms of hoagie units, or you could convert the hoagies to dollars and cents. That would make it a more costly enterprise on a Monday than on Thursday, since Thursday is $2.99 hoagie day.

I know – we shouldn’t be tossing higher math problems at you on the day after Thanksgiving. This is just our way of expressing the value of our efforts on your behalf. So, you’re welcome, friends of Big Green. Keep those hoagies coming.

Next stop.

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Great…  they’re sending a radioactive microbot up my shirtsleeve. You think the TSA is tough? Try the customs line on The “Goldilocks” planet.

I want to start this week’s “usual rubbish” blog with a thank you to all of those who helped bail us out of the Kaztropharian jail. (You know who you are.) Not sure how everyone worked out how the bail-bond system works on Kaztropharius 137b – must have looked it up on the interwebs.  (You have to put up at least three cases of cotton swabs per pound of body weight. It can get costly… so hey, thanks.) Well, as much as I like it on Kaztropharius, we left the moment they opened the cage door, overdue as we were for the next booking on our super-fantastic ENTER THE MIND: THE ULTIMATE BIG GREEN EXPERIENCE interstellar tour. A little place called…. The “Goldilocks” Planet.

It was kind of a long passage, so we had some time to rehearse. Matt wanted to polish off some older material. We ran through a few numbers in the hold of our cheap rental spaceship – a bit of a challenge, since there’s no artificial gravity (or genuine gravity, for that matter). John’s sticks were flying all over the place, Matt’s bass amp kept unplugging itself, every time I hit a chord my legs would go up to the ceiling… it did add another dimension of effort to the whole enterprise, I must say. We asked Marvin (my personal robot assistant) to help us keep it together, just so we’d have someone to blame when it floated all to hell. Damn you, Marvin! 

What was our Thanksgiving like? Well, about as good as it can get in deep space. We brought out a couple of days’ rations and squished it all together in the shape of a roasted turkey. Then we buried it, because it was disgusting. Burial in space, you understand… you put the waste in the wasted disposal tubes and order Marvin to hit the eject button. Then we gather around the starboard port, like the little family that we are, and watch the mangled wads of tofu disperse into the void. That’s what we call Thanksgiving.

Well, back to the inspection line. B.T.W. – if you’re watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, look for us. Through the miracle of holographic imagery (thanks to ingenuity of Mitch Macaphee, our mad science advisor), we’ll be performing on the ACME Markets / BIG M float, right below the massive generic bread loaf balloon. (The now-defunct supermarkets decided to share a float this year to cut costs.) Watch us… then SHOP, SHOP, SHOP!

(Note to parade organizer: Send check to Big Green, Abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, Nowheresville, NY, 13502.)