Well, we lied.
While we've kept busy touring, writing and improving our pool game, we've managed to put aside a few minutes now and then to brush up on new surgical techniques, so when Dave fell ill en route to Montreal last month, we were well prepared. Knowing intuitively that his appendix had jumped ship and begun working for the competition, consulting surgeons Makowy and Young began to bicker about whether the procedure be major or minor surgery and who would perform all the little ticky bits. Although no consensus could be reached, it was agreed that if we were successful, songs would be sung and stories told of this day for years to come. The question remains, will those songs be written in a major or minor key, and who will perform all the little ticky bits.
After resolving pressing conceptual matters, we laid Dave gently to rest on the middle seat of our rapidly moving van, opened him up like a ripe melon and using only our teeth, a rusty spoon and 3 guitar picks, removed his ruptured appendix, an autographed copy of "Hammer of the Gods", and season's tickets to the Blue Jays.
While administering a final dose of MOIST's favorite premium Mexican anesthetic and grumbling endlessly about the difference a "real serious Shop-Vac" can make in delicate operations of this kind, Chief Surgeon Jeff Pearce was overheard to say, "Ya know, with a few more pints of Cuervo and some green Jell-O, we'd have a thriving and profitable practice here."
Sadly, Jeff's brilliant surgical career was cut short when drummer Paul Wilcox, having just finished darning Dave's belly with a broken E string and sealing it lovingly with MOIST stickers, noticed Jeff slyly pocketing the segment of large intestine containing the Jays tickets. A sound thrashing ensued during which Jeff's soul, all ready loitering on the wrong side of moral outrage, fell headlong into exceptionally bad karma and narrowly missed being whisked off to the bowels of hell to watch Three's Company reruns, eat saltines and attempt to whistle "end of innocence" accurately at speeds exceeding 240 beats per minute as punishment for his cowardly thievery and general tardiness.
In all seriousness we wish Dave a peaceful and complete recovery. Although his convalescence will take about 4 weeks, its nice to know that when we get him back, he'll make a nifty gym bag.
At this point, we usually whip in tour dates, and a couple of smarmy comments about NASA. However, since MAY has been cancelled and the whole, lets get a sticker on the space shuttle thing has been beaten to a gruesome and slightly less than witty death, the most that we can tell you is that MOIST will be back on the road in early June and will throughout the summer, tour the country in a rapidly moving, filth ridden van with no skills but sarcasm and an unrelenting thirst for tequila, searching for the perfect mix of fear and loathing and driven by a rapid distate for daylight and the firm belief that tomorrow is best met naked and screaming with a fistfull of aspirin.
Hide your liquor.
Lock up your lawn mower.
See you in June.
Nauselbaum, MOIST