Living the Slaughterhouse dream, lost in the current Post-Post-Modern Meltdown, smelling the stench of a Civilization eating it's own tail.

Hearing lies; Eating poison; Corporate Money Moles burrowing deeply into our government, down on their knees, sucking off Wall Street.

I have no idea how to make music somehow have meaning in the face of this betrayal, but I swear that I will do my best to deliver the truth of my passions, rather than sit still and push buttons for someone else, ever again. 

Grandpa Olman is following