Logo'd. Rougly.

Next step is a MySpace page, then some music and words, then song uploads, and then performances and promotional material and reams of senseless joy and ten goals at half time. Our rival band will be the unsigned, unexisting miracle farmers "The Flaw Cult." We're going to show them up in public, like fooling them into streaking at an imperial visit. They won't know with what we hit them. Here goes, SD set sail for posturban innerspace, packed to the hull with nonsense and chaotic dancehall trademarks. Bust it raw time. Kicking it golden. Showering in camomile milk. Booting it up in retroscope.