Greetings!  It was recently brought to our attention that our lyrics aren't posted anywhere on the site, and as some have an interest, away we go!  For expedience and relevance sake, we'll start with our second release: "Present and Contingent".

new article in latitude 65. thanks glenn burn silver!

No thats not your eyes playing tricks on you!!
PAPER SCISSORS is coming back to fairbanks and playing a handful of shows, including at our old stomping ground- THE MARLIN

maybe shows at the howling dog in fox?? or and the golden eagle in ESTER??
we shall see, its in the works
we LOVE you fairbanks
 I am working on flyers right now... and we should have a new album for you, for now here are the songs on it to listen to for FREE
see you in september
isaac

Greetings PS Fans,

It's been an awful long time without any official word from any of us regarding our status, so I'm going to take the initiative and speak for the band.

Our most enduring and valuable feature has always been our collective nature.  Paper Scissors was/is a strong and extremely fun band because of our being greater than the sum of our parts.  Unfortunetely, these parts have been seperated for a rather long time now, and we're quickly approaching the longest lenth of time we've ever gone without playing together.  Getting three disparate schedules to align when in close proximity to one another was hard enough.  Having us scattered throughout Oregon and Alaska has made this effort nigh impossible. 

I can safely say that for all of our ambition and youthful vigor being largely expelled on an adventurous West Coast Tour, Paper Scissors shall not wane in its committment to make art together.  I cannot say for certain the next time we'll play a show, or even be in the same room as one another, but I can't forsee us going to the lengths of disbanding the group, or stooping to such lows as forseeable retirement.  We just have too much fun, and I don't think any of us are ready to give that up.

We have had extended breaks before, and each time we reunite to play once more, it always feels as if no time has passed.  I actually wish I could, with words, describe the feeling we all experience when this happens.  I have daydreamed about playing with the fellas again, and each time I recieve a healthy dose of goosebumps and my heart skips a beat.  This band was and always will be a huge part of my progression as a person and an artist.

The tour was an amazing adventure, and we must have made hundreds of new friends, both online and in person, and exposed ourselves (tee-hee) to a potential audience base far larger than anything we've ever experienced.  If I could only play one more Paper Scissors show for the rest of my days, it would be at The Marlin, where it all began, amongst our friends and most loyal supporters.  I would call you all fans, but in reality you are so much more than that.  You cheered and made financially viable an artistic effort wanting only in return that which we love to do most.  We are eternally grateful for anyone who has enjoyed the band and passed the word along.

We have a second album, almost complete, in the bank and ready to roll.  Some snippets have been on our MySpace page for quite a while, and they are tracks we're proud of.  It is an album recorded in a dry cabin on a laptop with cheap mics... short on expertise but long on heart and ambition.  It epitomizes what made Fairbanks such a wonderful place to grow as a band and as people.  We wanted only to find a little Fairbanks wherever we went.  It will be released, in some fashion, for a modest sum, some day.  Sooner rather than later, I hope.

For now, I leave you with the above.  We'll do our best to be more communicative with you all about our plans and movements.  And rest assured, when Paper Scissors plays in Fairbanks again, the house will come down, and it will all be for YOU!

Regards,
Craig (The Tall Guitar Playing Singer Guy)

We got an interview with the bend weekly paper. Thank you Bend Weekly and mike!
its an interesting read, but be warned it has some errors and can be difficult to tell who is talking sometimes...



We caught up with the men of Fairbanks, Alaska's Paper Scissors today as the band woke up in Portland as part of their current Northwest Tour. The guys talked to us about their eclectic taste and how they manage to sound nothing really like any other band around. We also chatted a bit about junkyard finds and the person they describe as "bat sh*t insane" who also happens to be their state's governor and a vice presidential candidate. And it's important to note that Paper Scissors were huddled around a cell phone for this interview, so we couldn't always discern who was who…thus we've combined the guys into one giant collective Paper Scissor.

Good morning guys. So how is life up in Fairbanks?

We've been there for a couple of years now. We were finishing school and working and hanging out. We started a new Northwest Tour and have been down here, and at the end, a couple of us are going back there and some of us are sticking around here so we'll see what happens. There are still plans to continue to play, we just don't know where.

So right after this tour it sounds like you guys will take a little hiatus?

Yeah probably…that's just one of many hiatuses that the band has survived before.

I've listened to your album a couple times now and have checked out some of your videos up on MySpace and what drew me to give you guys some ink is the total mash-up of different styles and influences. Is that something that's conscious?

It's pretty natural. We all like different kinds of music and we don't like the idea of restricting ourselves to a particular sound really so we just kind of play whatever comes to mind. People do ask us to describe our music all the time and something that comes to mind often is blues rock or dance rock but that misses out on so much. But it gives people an idea, it's what I guess 60 percent of our music is but there's a bunch of other music in there too.

It's hard to classify you guys. Sometimes you sound like Clap Your Hands Say Yeah but then you also sound like Umprey's McGee or the Black Keys …

We actually like all of those bands a lot. Those are three of our favorites. We can also say Medeski, (Martin & Wood), Stereolab, and Radiohead.

What do you guys listen to in the van when you're traveling?

We love music. And we have a lot of it. A wide variety. Mother mother, mouthfull of bees, the pack AD, the new deal, infected mushroom, Ryan, our drummer is a big Phish Head …

When you guys are playing…do each of you bring in a different elements? Sometimes there's almost a punk rock edge to it and other times, like you said, it's kind of like dance party music. Is it kind of a collaborative – each person bringing a different piece of the pie or how does it work?

I think we all bring a very different piece. We all come from really different musical backgrounds as far as what we listened to originally and sort of growing up and becoming musically conscious. Craig and I were both music directors at a college radio station (91.5 fm) and ryan grew up in a community where bands like the grateful dead and phish regularly toured near by him. Craig and I didn't have that, so we were part of a DIY scene. where tourng bands rarely came through but we al made the best damn shows we could.

Do you guys have a good following up in Alaska?

Yeah, Alaska's a really, really cool place to play music. At least Fairbanks is. There's a huge, vibrant art community there, you know visual arts and theater and dance and music – a lot of people play music, there's a lot of bands per capita, I guess you could say, and we come from a very supportive school community. There are a handful or pretty cool places to play but there's one in particular that's kind of our home base and it's this bar called The Marlin and it's right next to the university and they have live music almost every night of the week.

I guess I should ask because you're the first Alaskans I've talked to in the last month: What is your feelings about your ol' governor there?

(Laughing)

We're not supporters. She's bat-shit insane.

She's a liar, she's a hypocrite and she doesn't share a single ideal that anybody I know has.

Where you guys a little shocked when you heard about it?

It still sounds like a joke.

We couldn't believe because she's totally un-noteworthy. She really hasn't done anything of note in Alaska or for Alaska so why would she be on the Republican ticket? Oh, pure spectacle, that's why. Have you seen the SNL skit? Did it mention that she's the major of the crystal meth capital of Alaska? Because it's true. Wasilla is a mall. It's one long strip mall. It's a suburb of Anchorage and of course it has a drug problem.

It must just be maddening to see some lady in Oklahoma with a big perm and a lot of eye makeup saying "I love her" "She's great, she's just like me."

It's crazy. It makes you want to bang your head against a wall.

Do you guys play the Alaska card when you are trying to find gigs?

Oh all the time...

What I've just realized though is that the Republican Party is playing the Alaska ticket too... we have actually sank as low as the Republican Party. (shudders)


thanks guys!


PAPER SCISSORS
8pm Saturday September 27. Silvermoon Brewing Co. 24 NW Greenwood Ave.
Later

Denali – Fairbanks – Whitehorse (08/16- 08/18)

After a good show at the Denali Salmon Bake (despite a less than energetic crowd, save a few) we threw James and his gear in the van Sunday morning and headed back north to Fairbanks to finish packing as fast as possible. A quick stop at James' to unload some un-necessaries and replace them with the opposite. With a few final sayonaras we were off to our cabin to finish packing the rest of our gear into the van. Not necessarily the best configuration of things, but it all pretty much fit, first try. With barely enough room for the band, musical gear encroaching from all sides, our roof topper packed to the gills and a couple of bikes on hanging off the back for good measure, we crept carefully down our rowdy road and recklessly toward whatever lay on the path ahead. Next stop: Whitehorse. It was a long drive through the night but morale was high and before we knew it, we were at the Canadian border. We had been warned over and over again about how long it might take us to get through, and with the rig we were driving and the passengers inside we thought for sure these warnings would come oh so true. It's about 4 am and there are no other cars and only one less-than-friendly-looking woman working the gate. Almost faster than Craig could answer them she fired off four short questions. "Passports?" Why are you coming to Canada?" "What's in the back?" What's in the top?" Then she disappeared into the building with our passports. A few minutes later she came back, handed us our passports and waved us on our way with a moderate look of disgust. The whole event took exactly 8 minutes and 8 seconds.

Whitehorse, YK – Liard, B.C. (08/19)

We didn't stay long in Whitehorse, a couple of hours. Looked in vain for an impromptu gig and some herb, stocked up on bananas and gas, then moved on. We did stop into the gold rush and encountered a girl with the devil in her ass. She warned us that there was a national holiday and it was unlikely that we would have a crowd. She was so pleasant and seemed to try earnestly to get her supervisor to let us play there that evening. She apologetically informed us that because the other band's gear was already there- and that the manager didn't want a band of 4 people on the stage-we would not be permitted to play.
Then in the Canadian equivalent of Fred Meyer (The Real Canadian Superstore) Isaac got noobed by the kilograms to pounds switch and thought that the mixed nuts were 2 dollars per POUND, but alas they were 2 dollars a kilogram and feeling slightly foolish he paid for his 20$ of nuts… ah well, he shrugged his shoulders, they will be eaten.
Insert endless hours of driving here…
We stopped again for the night when we reached Liard hot springs in Liard British Columbia. The place was beautiful. The hot springs were tucked maybe a mile into the woods, accessed by a long boardwalk over the geothermal swamp. We had a nice long soak and then passed out; hard.
In the morning Isaac woke the others after a nice soak and toke.
James got up in the early morning and ate a breakfast so good that it was evil.

Liard B.C. – Sqaumish B.C. (08/19-08/20)

So basically we drove the entire north to south length of the province of British Columbia without stopping. Energy drinks, loud music, and hilarious (often revealing, more often vulgar) conversation abound. For those of you who haven't explored B.C. it is spectacular. Even though the way the car had to be packed made it impossible to see out of about half the windows, what we could see was gloriously epic. I (Ryan) had always wanted to ski (or in this case just see) Whistler-Blackcomb ski resort and so we took the slightly longer, and at times sketch-tacualr mountain pass that would lead us through there.
The road was narrow and at times, gravel. As it rose from the valley floor the consequence for driving off of it quickly became dire. There was one section where there was a more than 90 degree blind turn which then went under a very short, very narrow little bridge followed immediately by a second 90+ degree corner in the opposite direction, all within 100 feet. Later we watched an 18-wheeler headed that direction and wondered…"how?"
We reached the top of the road in the afternoon and stopped to enjoy some epic rage-gnar vistas. (4 Nils) I have to take the time to explain something I found (and still find) reasonably odd. One of the things that our beloved sound-brotha James decided was a must have for the trip was a pint sized bottle of white vinegar; more necessary, in fact, than a sleeping bag. It is his all-purpose go to solvent, and he swears by it. I was mystified, if not, skeptical. After something like 35 hours in a car of four guys, sweating, farting, smoking etc. the overall fragrance within which we were all but residing, didn't exactly remind one of roses on a spring breeze. So what does James (and Isaac) do? He busts out the vinegar, he and Isaac splash a bit of salad dressing on their chests and armpits. At first the vinegar smell is over-powering and seems only to compound the stench rather than counteract it. But in all honesty, after a few minutes it eliminated at least the man-a-rific odor wafting from our underarms.
The climb up the mountain had been slow and arduous for the van with such a heavy load, but it powered through and we made the summit without a problem. The descent would prove more complex. James, fresh and clean after his vinegar bath, took the wheel and began putting the van's new brake pads to the ultimate test. The sign on the side of the road read "Trucks Gear Down 12% Grade 10km", and it was the first of many. We were nearly at the bottom of the pass when Craig noticed a bad smell coming from the engine, followed immediately by some billowing white-gray smoke. We pulled over, jumped out and saw that it was coming from the wheels. The brake pads were on fire! We sprayed them down with our fire extinguisher and a gallon of water to put it out. We found a flat spot to park the van and take the pressure off the breaks and just let it sit for a while. It was half raining half sunny, half warm half cold. Craig and James waited with the car while Isaac and I went to explore. We climbed up the hill a ways to the bottom of a 50-foot cliff face. What we found there was so disturbing it changed our lives forever in an instant. Actually it was just a headstone, but it was a little eerie. It was wooden and attached to a small wooden box on top of a pile of rocks. The inscription was faded and hard to read I forget the name but it said Born '38 – Died Sept 1, 08. Now consider for a second why this is weird. That day the date was Aug. 20, 2008. So it would seem whoever's ashes were in that box somehow hadn't died yet. Scared yet? Well don't be because upon closer inspection it would turn out that the person had died in 1998, it was just the way the wood was faded that made it look like 2008. Zombie threat averted and the brakes cooled and ready for action and we were off.
We arrived in Squamish, B.C. late afternoon, exhausted and desperate for a place to camp and lay down for the night. Squamish is another amazingly beautiful British Columbia town, and the people that live there pay well for the privilege. We had a nice hot meal at a place called the pub. Specials all around, steak, prawns, mashed potatoes and veggies, washed down with 20oz heady brews. Time for bed. We found a campground called "Paradise Valley" at the end of a heavily forested road. Tall, thick trees covered with huge wet leaves and draped with lime green moss hung over the road to form a tunnel. We realized the campground would cost us 36 bucks for the four of us to stay there and promptly agreed to forego "Paradise Valley". Instead we drove about 150 yards down the road and walked down a trail (on land owned by an outdoors school nearby; one in which we were never sure if the focus was teaching about the outdoors or just holding classes in it) and set up camp there. What to do with the car so no one would know we were camped so close to where we shouldn't be took some creative thinking. James volunteered to go and find a spot to park and sleep in the van that night. The next morning as we were packing up I heard Craig's voice singing loudly through the woods out by the road. Craig was standing next to me at the time. It was James alerting us that he was here by blaring "Cheaper Better Fit" from our self-titled debut album. (You know, that cool one all your friends have that you keep telling yourself you need to buy? Copies are still available.)

Squamish – Vancouver – Bellingham (08/21 – 08/24)

Some more beautiful driving along the coast north of Vancouver, big mountains rising from the sea, tall granite cliffs, long misty waterfalls and sweeping ocean vistas. Then we saw it, an exit, a sure sign we had come back to civilization.
The night before we had read about a place called "The Vancouver Seed Bank & Toker's Lounge in downtown Vancouver," it seemed a natural destination. It is a small green (go figure) building on Hastings Street. In front are cases of pipes, growing manuals, and a plethora of seeds from all sorts of plants. Out the back door is a fenced in concrete patio with tables and chairs for people to lounge and toke but one must bring a personal supply: they don't sell buds, just seeds. Since we'd crossed international lines a few days ago we hadn't properly prepared for this fact. However; it was a cool place to chill, they had internet and a coffee bar so we just hung out and enjoyed the sun and being out of the car. Then at 4:20 one of the guys that seemed to help run the place, who went by "Cookie" lit up a couple of fatties and indulged our cravings. Thanks Cookie.
We sort of half looked for a gig in Vancouver but the word on the street was that parts of the city can be quite sketchy, and a vehicle like ours with our out-of-state-plates was a easy target. We hung out at the seed bank for a little while longer to try and get our bearings back (Cookie rolled some potent herb) and then decided to tackle rush our traffic and the Canada – U.S. border.
After the ease of our first international crossing, naturally we figured there was no way we'd get across as painlessly the second time. 3 minutes 44 seconds! Same four questions as before, plus one. "Do you have any fruits or vegetables?" I had just bought two $1 dollar avocados to make sandwiches for lunch. We'd only used one, and so we had to give him the other. He made up some bullshit about it being cool if it had a "Mexico Safe" sticker; pretty sure he was just hungry. So all in all it took only 11 minutes and 52 seconds to get across both borders.
Back on home soil we kicked it straight for Bellingham, home of The Green Frog Acoustic Tavern, for our first get down of the tour.
We spent some time at the bar and checking out downtown, then made out way to our friend Holly Polankus' (sp?) house. Holly's place is actually home to a number of people. I never could determine exactly how many that number was. The house is roomy but almost every space along the periphery is occupied by plants and art and lights, a badly torn satirical World War 2 war bonds poster, and a nearly-life-size poster of a naked Bjork clutching palm fronds to herself while sticking her tongue out at life, the universe, and everything.
We pitched tents in the backyard after dark and woke to realize we were in close proximity to the house's beehive. The bees were cool though and only I got stung once, crushing one with my knee in the dark tent.
Monica (Holly house resident, hereby abbreviated by HHR) showed us some cool places to hang out and busk. We played for a bit in the park by Bellingham Bay but didn't attract much attention. We moved our operation downtown to the sidewalk with better success. Made a few bucks and met a few people, including a 19 alleged ex-heroin addict drummer who claimed he doesn't drink anymore cause it made him blackout immediately. Shortly after a series of similar rapid fire confessions, he admitted he was actually drunk at the time, which served to not only question his previous denial and rehabilitation regarding harder drugs, but most of his story in general. In between handing out his life's details on a platter for us to pick and choose as to which ones were true, he commandeered our stripped down kit used to play on the street and played drum and bass rhythms on it as loudly as he possibly could. Shortly thereafter, he was accompanied by another street character who began whistling as loudly as he possibly could. Now our welcome on the street was dubious to begin with, but coupled with a drunken techno drummer and high pitched whistling that pained even the ears of rock musicians, our time was surely coming to an end in downtown Bellingham. A shop owner came outside to beseech the whistler to cease, but then later complimented us on our music, so all's well that ends well.
The stage at the Green Frog was soo tiny, about a third of the size of the Marlin. We figured out a good set up that was decidedly cozy but worked out well. As we arrived at the Green Frog, I was looking for parking spot when I saw my old friend Emily Zgoda sitting on the sidewalk outside the venue and the excitement resulted in missing the best parking space. The Green Frog Acoustic Tavern is a long narrow room with a variety of acoustic guitars on the wall and thousands of peanut shells on the floor, which patrons are encouraged to add to. The owner/bartender's name is James. James it would prove is a good guy. The crowd was more like a group but they were diggin it. We played well and after the show just hung around with bartender James who was all but pouring his array of heady dank brewskis down our throats till we could take no more. Thanks James.
When we got home we rolled a nice fat joint and the four of us took a walk through the suburbs of Bellingham. You know those late night walks, when you're half in the bag and three sheets to the wind, the air is warm and the stars and moon are shining, everything you and friends say makes everyone laugh their asses off and it all makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside? This was one of those walks. Good times.
Saturday morning, which there wasn't much left of when we woke up, was a beautiful one. The day was filled with a coffee and cigarette run, bike rides, party prep, music and a large dose of chilaxin. That night we shared the stage with a couple of local singer/songwriters. The first guy played insane kooky punk rock on banjo, and the second (a lady) played super distorted electric guitars with hilarious but scary lyrics ("I wanna see George Double-Ya Bush…Hangin from a meat hook!) She also played guitar with a switchblade! Sunday was our day off so we slept, watched movies, cooked, smoked, drank, ate, and were generally merry.
We woke up early on Monday, packed our stuff and headed south to Port Townsend, WA.

Port Townsend (08/25 – 08/28)

To get to Port Townsend from Bellingham you take I-5 south for a bit then exit and take small highways and back-roads for about 50 miles until you reach the ferry port at Keystone, WA. The ferry ride is super short (bout 30mins), and super cheap too (18 bucks for all of us and the car w/ bikes).
Port Townsend is a small half retired artist community half tourist trap, kind of heavy on the latter half. There's a ton of cutesy stores lining the main drag (Water St.) and bunch of pricey restaurants and bars right on the water. There seemed to be a lot of young folk roaming the streets as well. First thing we did was park and walk around to get a feel for the place and see if we could hit up any places for gigs either now or in the future. First place we stopped was called Sirens. Its tucked upstairs and at the back of an old apartment building that is now rented out primarily to businesses. They have a large private dining area with FREE pool, a nice bar with a good selection on tap and a sweet back deck that hangs over the water's edge. We sat down ordered a beer and asked the bartender if she knew if there was any music going on there tonight. She said there wasn't and so I asked if we could jam. She made a call and we hit up the free pool. Fifteen minutes later she came back and said they'd be all about having us play there tonight. They hadn't even heard us before! We were psyched and started unloading the van. Before the show we busked across the street from Sirens to try and drum up an audience. Pulled down a couple bucks and a fan or two, then headed in to play. Oh! I skipped something very important and amazing. Craig and I were out front of Sirens when a cab driver pulled up to them and asked if they were her ride. We said no, but sparked up a conversation with her anyway. Her name was Margaret and within five minutes she'd offered us a place on her floor and breakfast the next morning. Craig, you lady-killer you.
We played a really good show at Sirens that night, probably because they fed us so damn well there, fucking amazing pizza (pesto, basil, red pepper, mozzarella on one and buffalo chicken, smoked bacon and caramelized onions on the other) We met a guy named Marc who SWORE up and down that he could book us in Memphis. Maybe someday. We even had some volunteer roadies that night. They were a little sketchy but helpful all the same (he did try to sell us an iPod and some tongue twisting pharmaceuticals). At this point (2am) we faced the task of finding a free place to camp that wasn't going to result in being woken up by some grouchy state trooper or park ranger. This proved difficult, nigh, impossible. So who we gonna call? Margaret the philanthropic cab driver. This woman was so kind and giving and selfless, the kind of person who was just born to help and love people. She made us a feast of a breakfast; bacon and eggs, toast, scones, fresh fruit and OJ. We spent the day in town, surfing the web and trying to book more shows. We were scheduled to play at The Boiler Room, an all ages volunteer coffee shop in downtown Port Townsend, just a few doors down from Sirens. We got the feeling that the kids (and they were definitely kids) who were running the place didn't really care about the show and weren't the least bit concerned with whether or not anyone came. They hadn't put up the posters we sent them even after we'd arrived and hung out at the place most of the day. It's not good to be fairly certain no one will come before the show even starts.
A couple hours before show time we met up with Steve, the father of Isaac and James' old friend Dan Wilson (perhaps some of you know him as well). Him and his wonderful wife Chris invited us over for dinner at their beautiful new house just outside of town. We stuffed out faces with burgers, and Miller High Life, with a nice smoke session for dessert. Fueled up for the show we headed to the Boiler Room.
More people there than before…maybe 10, could be a sign that the crowds are on their way. It wasn't. In fact most of those 10 people began disappearing as we started to play. Steve came and hung out for a few songs, and there were two dudes chilling on the couch who enjoyed it. The rest of the people there (all four of them) I assume stayed cause they just didn't want to go home. We played for about an hour then announced a set break, during which the kids started playing with Isaac's Theremin while the rest of us packed up the gear. To say the least it was not our best performing experience to date, but that's the nature of this beast, it's probably something we'll have to get used to, but I hope not.
We drove back to Margaret's to find that she had hooked it up once again with an array of munchies and a fresh cold 12-pack of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. This woman could revitalize anyone's faith in the human race. Since we played such a short show it was kind of early when we got back (round midnight) so we stayed up and shot the shit with Margaret. There ain't nothing quite like talking politics with a large, passionate, cab driving, lesbian, mother of nine; that woman has some opinions!
The next morning we all woke up and decided that we had to do something in return for Margaret's kindness. The night before she had mentioned that she still had a ton of stuff locked up in her storage facility, stuff she needed, like pots and pans, furniture, and her CD player. Every time she saved up enough money to rent a truck and get some help, one of her kids asked for it and she was always of the mindset that they needed it more than her. We called her up and told her to meet us there because we were going to help her get that stuff. She tried and tired and tried to dissuade us from doing it, claiming it was "just too much", that "it would take a professional crew with a 25-foot truck all day to do". We just figured she was just being nice as usual and so paid her warnings no heed. Then she opened the storage facility door. Damn! She had A LOT of stuff! Paper Scissors is not a band that runs away in the face of adversity though, no, we were determined. Eventually she was able to convince us only to take a load or two of the most essential stuff (we could find). We got her kitchen utensils and pots and pans, some stuff for the bathroom and her CD player, along with a bunch of other stuff and brought it back to her house. She was very grateful and we were happy to do it. Thanks for everything Margaret.
Steve and Chris had invited us to stay with them on Sunday night and we happily obliged. We got there a little while before Steve said he had to leave to meet his wife at the Hilltop Bar for a library fundraiser bingo night. Yes, we went with him. I hadn't played bingo sine I was in elementary school, pretty sure the rest of the guys hadn't either so we were kind of into the idea. It was fun. As much fun as playing a game you'll probably never win could be. We had some close calls, but no bingos. Weak sauce. After a few rounds Steve and Chris had had enough and headed for the door trying hard not to be spotted abandoning ship. Back at their house we hung out on the couch and watched a documentary about the 60's and Kill Bill Pt. 1 then crashed out.
Steve made breakfast for us and then he realized something. He had a tree Chris wanted him to plant, and he now had four young guys to help him with it. James and Craig were set to the task of hole diggers. Digging to accommodate the entire bucket that the tree was being held in, instead of just deep enough for the root ball the boys dug a nice hole bout 2 feet across (which was fine) and about 4 and a half feet deep (which was about 3 and a half feet too deep). Eventually the tree got planted, and (insert best Hank Hill impression here) I god damn guarantee that S.O.B. will be standing there for a hundred years I tell you what!
Port Townsend, done.

So we're currently relaxing in Bellingham, WA, with some friends of ours who were kind enough to let us stay with them (read: camp in their yard) while we played once at the Green Frog Acoustic Tavern and last night at that very same house for a party. Both were considerable successes and a lot of fun for everyone involved.

Our trip down the Alcan was interesting, to say the least. We left Sunday night and arrived in Squamish, just outside of Vancouver, Wednesday evening. We camped there and headed to Vancouver for all day Thursday. Found a couple of neat spots to park our asses and work on getting more shows, and then headed to Bellingham for Thursday night. 2,250 miles in three to four days is a miraculous feat, and left us all more than a little sleep deprived and half insane from being in the packed to the gills van for so many miles. We had a great time though, and as a testament to the temperaments of everyone involved, we haven't tried to strangle each other yet, and we still manage to share laughter =D.

Headed to Port Townsend tomorrow on a short ferry ride to play a show Tuesday night, so we'll camp somewhere and try to find a little mischief.

We kept track of a variety of interesting statistics regarding our mileage and sights and sounds of the journey, which we'll probably post another time for want of effort at the moment. In the mean time, look for more info as we progress!

Regards,
Paper Scissors

Greetings All,

It's a glorious day indeed for Paper Scissors.

Our CD's have arrived, several boxes worth in fact, and we have plenty to sell for your enjoyment!

All of our upcoming shows will also act as release parties, so that we can spread the love as far and wide as we possibly can. The hard copies are quite charming, but if you positively can't wait and have to pick up a digital copy now (OR tell your out of state friends =D) you can do it here for the ubiquitous $10.

https://www.digstation.com/AlbumDetails.aspx?albumid=ALB000015963

Happy listening, and we'll see you at the shows!

Paper Scissors