Who hounds a horse into buckling?
Canter-scrimp flotunk prereview.

Spin Magazine March ’08 Recommended Download 14: Spin March ’08

Atlas and the Anchor

Treble

Tucson Weekly

Muzzle of Bees Interview

Also, RITKWANDO is now on emusic...>RITKWANDO emusic

Who here has not been or not done for, who has not abbreviated or abdicated,  who has not transcribed or transpired... The tent is full with vestiges of Indonesia and Canned Fruit....
Wherefore the Lord of Boiled Beats and Soiled Carrots have thou indoctrinated the Persian Rug into a million of Wishbones...no tablatures to the famous InsideOUt Baked potTato have surived, the Cupboard is full of Flakes and no Liquid courage, no mixing is possible...
The Dallas Cowboy is ready for the journey, the compass is packed, the Gatorade is in the swimming trunk... One thing strikes the charged atmosphere,  indefinitely the Cabbage Patch remains rhetorical...
In this time of necktie propaganda, one should be careful, the change will come slowly, first must grow the pubic hair, then and only then, do you understand the need for sedatives. 
Gone savage for teenagers with automatic weapons and boundless love...

Say, you look familiar. The Great Spirit lives within you, and you live in the van with me. Can we have more scenery, please. Look at that virgin forest, look at those rolling hills. Yawn! Give me concrete, and pig shit smells. Stupid fucking white man.
Life floats by like a deflated air-mattress. The gaseous white clouds meet the road, that leads through the mountains, where Coors light is born, which turns to gas in your belly, which ends up in the van, and so the circle of life begins once again.
Continental breakfast requires a large coat and cargo pants. Crazy homeless men require a cigarette.
Toilet seats require toilet paper, and legs require stretching.
Nice set, man.

Check our profile photo if you don't believe me. I double-dog-dare you.

Ray Bradbury once said that there is a Martian in every chronicle, even if the tapestry of generations supersedes the elegance of the indulgence in the unforeseen. Ray Bradbury was fat and ugly, but he had a boyish smile and a penchant for card tricks. Although Ray was known as "Turdberry" to his detractors, he never stopped making books about the future, for he knew the future was now and later is the past. Ray also insisted that time was money, and tried to pay for his hamburger in minutes, for which he was banished from the cafeteria, and forced to make grilled cheese sandwiches on the grill of his Chevy Nova. But it was Ray's love of free hamburgers, that inspired him to write about the past in the future right now, because Ray knew in his heart that time was not money, and that the heart was not the organ responsible for knowing.
Shipwreck writes music for people, who are seeking future hamburgers right now.

We the Shipwreck, have taken over Matt Talbott's Great Western R&R compound in historical Tolono, IL (past the Subway) to slather 5 new buttery tracks onto analog tape. Matt was a gracious host, a Willy Wonka of recording. Jordan "Let's try that again" Schultz was driven to the brink of sanity and patience for five long, ulcer inducing days of working with us. In the end he departed for a vacation with a happiness of a man, who finally passed a kidney stone, but not before he endulged his man-sized hunger with an order of 20'' pokey stix (equally impressive and disgusting). Once again some nice people were coerced into contributing to our dirty work. Thank you Erin, Tristan and Chris H. for helping us out. If you are interested in renting or buying a studio check out Matt's site: www.gwrecordrecorders.com.

Work, work, work. Record, rinse, and repeat. Write songs, write blogs, write checks.

What will shipwreck do next? Is it possible that the clouds of our minds are obstructing the view of the summit? Will Sisyphus be there to greet the mortals?

The history of the world resides in the dirt underneath the fingernails of the uncircumcised. Those who will save the cheerleader will get off the island. The master of ceremonies has many faces, but the one you will remember looks like a mystery shopper. Blessed are the meek for they are easy to manipulate. Let me get some action from the back section.

Neither christmas nor easter.  What the fuck, Al Gore?  What did you do with the weather.  We changed over to the long-lasting lightbulbs, we recycle, we walk more often, what else do you want from us?  This is April, it shouldn't be in the same sentence with the word snowstorm.  I blame the liberal weather channel on reporting snowstorms in the winter.  The terrorists learned about it, and sent one our way during the spring.  Not only do they hate democracy, but they also hate dry highways.  I will not be surprised if we get one of these on the fourth of July.