I'm not jumping through drum kits ANYMORE. NO MORE INTENTIONAL INJURY. Dammit. After years of drum kit destruction at the end of various Pits/Butchers/Rocket 350/Winghead shows I am officially retiring from flinging myself into (and sometimes thru) a scattered collection of plywood, pot metal and brass. Why you might ask? What would cause me to make such an irrational oath? A shot of cortisone IN MY CHEST about an hour ago. Doctor says some shit about "son, you done gone and hurt yourself, how'd this happen?" So what I'm gonna say? "Well Doc, see, after me and Mr. Miller had been hanging out about 8 hours it seemed like DAMN good fun to throw myself into a scattered collection of plywood, pot metal and brass, and then someone fell on me. I'm not really sure WHY I got hurt...". No, that would have made him scribble on his pad the words "Psychotic Evaluation" and then on another pad someone would have scribbled the word "Rehab" and a spiraling series of events would have resulted in arrest warrants being issued for The Butchers and Tonya Harding. SO, to derail this chain of events I made up a story about falling while carrying an amp, which isn't exactly untrue, but happened years ago and only resulted in some creative bruising. But he bought it, wrote a 'script, and then plunged that needle into my chest. He explained that I have essentially sprained a rib joint thing, and that it would get better, possibly before I die. And at that exact moment....well, that's a lie. I've been saying for exactly one month I was done with that particular tradition, and after finally giving in and going to the doctor and getting a shot IN MY FUCKING CHEST (did I mention that?) I am solidly convinced that this particular madness must stop. But don't worry Teaser People, see, there's JUMPING through the drum kit, and then there's FALLING through the drum kit. There's only one of these that I have any control over. jb