It feels like we're late. It feels like all of the folks in Fat White Family have a head start on us. They're four or five beers deep already and there's much catching up to do. We're going to need to do a keg stand to fit in, or get properly brought up to speed so we can feel the sloshing, so we can wilt when they wilt and so we can slam when they do that. The band allows us plenty of opportunities to examine the thin moral fiber that many people hold onto and explore. They give us these examples of debauchery and the fine passages of poetry that sneak out of them, as if we were loosing a tooth, but gaining some philosophy, zeroing in on some perspective, even if we had to wipe it off first before handling it. These are the bright lights and the lows of misjudgment and insecurity. They are nervous night sweats and they are associations with half-wits and party fouls. These are those questionable nights that we retell over future beers in coded language.