The sun came up hot on that summer day. When the wind blew from the south you could smell the stench from the slaughterhouse and state manure pit clean up to the state line. It was at the pit house where I first met Mr. Diggs. Oh the conservation started out light enough. "I like to count the unibrows". " If you had that many toes, would you wear flip flops"? Mr. Diggs wanted to know where he could still get those bellbottoms. Then the chatter turned deadly serious. Just the idea of a band? Here? Mr. Diggs started using terms like danceable, historically accurate, funk. I brought up the idea of bodacious harmonies. Then the decision was made, we'll form a band on the state of the state. With Mr. Diggs mainly on drums and me mainly on bass, we needed a monster ax man to complete the ensemble. After checking out what seemed liked months of pickers and toothless grinners, the stars and planets aligned and in walked the Noob. As the door flies open we notice he's got a high powered tube amp, a box full of effects, a strat with a whammy, and a six pack of the cheap stuff. Mr. Diggs and I liked what we see. After about forty-five minutes of a screaming jam, the colonel from down across the street came in with a big grin and two thumbs up. We knew we had a band. Yeah we played all the hot spots. The Owl, the Vault, Fort Courage, a Mongolian hayloft we evened opened for the biggest Jack of all band "Little Women". Although not big with the locals, the collage crowd, Mexicans, beer drinkers, Japanese engineers, and of course all the women loved us. We reeled in TB to fatten the sound with his electronic keyboard. For a short time in the valley in 1989 the band was more popular than Jesus Christ. A valley party wasn't a party without the boys showing up. It was where the ladies in big hats partied that Mary Jane Cooter confined in me that, "Hyrum fetched me last time I run". But maybe the apogee on the band was when Mr. Diggs lit a couple of barbeques for a day of DR tosses and a live late night session in the basement behind the furnace. Those gigs always left me soaking wet and wild-eyed. It was at this very location that these recordings were made on a four-track cassette. I believe that the motor from this machine is now used as a bubble-making machine under the Tucson sun. Then Noob got a call from the North, his exit was swift. Lucky for us Frankie stepped in to help out on a couple of unfinished songs. Mr. Diggs slipped out shortly after that. It was years later that Mojo, the musical clown, shouted, " I don't care for the lyrics" as he headed up hill with his new troop back to the well-groomed big top. Shortly after that I headed south where I cleaned up the original tapes and added some parts to complete this album. I heard that the old tower stands now like a gallows in the polluted skies. If there is a God, I don't think She ever looks down on this place. The cult is alive and well, Doris is dead, and I got out with Emotional Disturbance. Tom Wolter.