hola, que tal? once again the season of giving is upon us, but the good news is that pretty much all work ceases from now until a half of a week into the new year, so alas, be joyful and triumphant. from deep inside my most earnest yuletide stirrings for this , the year of our lord two-thousand fifteen, a selection from "the best little whorehouse in texas," titled "hard candy christmas," popularized however," but not written by one dolly parton (hint: carol hall). i was lucky enough to gather together with my good buddy justin glanville on an early evening that was surely to be if not the apex of temperate climates, a true frontrunner of mildly lesser aplomb, to play fragile moments into a digital void of naked rigidity. an upstanding yet unseated young man named jonathan keeney, garnered his apostasy of the pedal steel along with his personal affects to glue together what few have already titled the "very best in afternoon buffoonery, funeral style, non-religious, country tinged, independantly-released, Transylvanian, christmas-rock to date this calendar week."
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