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OK I'm officially bringing it.
New bass player has arrived. I know I lost the potownrecords site, but it should reappear soon under a simpler moniker.
Now for the test, we've been operating under the name 'The Cripes.'
But other possibilities are on the table. Vote and send me an email:

The Cripes
The Makeshifters
The Brand Spanking News
The Chops
Chop Suey Louie

Take that

Worry is of no use. We toss and turn at night, all thoughts of a tranquil, peaceful place coming back to that thorn in the inside we fear to face. Yet worry does no good at all. It rides on top, inside and in the back with every breath and thrusts itself into every situation. Yet we can do nothing about it. There is no thing in the mind that worry will erase. It will just eat us up and drive us mad.




I would rather be shot in the gut. I would rather be cut open, bleeding and severed than have worry of mind and pain in the soul and existential sickness.
When I'd be lying on the hospital bed the docs would say 'Okay, stitch this here, and don't poke it.'
'Don't put your hand in there and wear a helmet.'
'Don't swallow that whole.'
Fix it , doc.

That kind of pain is easy to face and easy to fix if you're not too messed up.
Heart and soul hurt require remedies not easily as bandaged and stiched. Worry rides shotgun.
And you end up realizing you're riding the scary-go-round just before sleep can take over.
Ouch.