Where can we find what we're looking for? In the woods my friends.
My love is alive, fueled by the eternal campfire burning in the heart of humanity.
Pass the guitar around and let each wonderful soul strum its way into your heart.
Pass the joint to the left and the whiskey to the right, as you soak
in every ounce of energy spawned by the campfire light.
Evil and greed will forever remain like a headstone.
Peace and love, however, must be cherished and firmly embraced, 
as the campfire is eternal, but can go to waste. 
Don't waste it my friends, don't waste it.
Let's go camping.

My fellow punk rockers, yes we did. We got the man we wanted. One big problem with this. Who are us aging punks that thrive on spending all of our spare time sticking it to the man going to stick it to now?!
The past eight years have provided endless fodder for savage, stammering, sarcastic, hot-headed, rebellious songwriters.
Will all the bands revert back to writing songs about beating up hippies, lighting farts and huffing glue?
Or, will they add horn sections and go back to playing ska like they did under Clinton?!
I beg of you, my punk rock bretheren, please don't let this positive change strip you of your negative attitudes! Please keep angst and a general contempt for the establishment near and dear to your heart, for there is always something to bitch about. My father once told me "You'd bitch with a titty in your mouth!"  Help me keep the home fires burning, even if it means picking up a book about corporate bail-outs or something.
Please keep those middle didgits raised up high and help me keep the faith, for punk rock is danger. LONG LIVE PUNK ROCK!
-Crash Mitchell