Yet would accomplished iconoclasts venture into new territory unprepared, like the Soviet Union into Bolshevik Communism? Nay, Baccone Dolce advances forth, training their faculties extensively. As it stands, only one more demonstration of their melodious power and wit awaits, and they will imperil it to the collective ears of Tallahassee in the chambers of the Cow Haus. That fated day is this very month, November 13th precisely, and will by great measure awe witnesses to extents that even no amount of culture, divinity, meditation, or rich cognac could achieve. That one should attend is incontrovertible, a copious supply of entertainment and fine drink is inevitable, and that the necessary acts of dancing and rump shaking will leave one so weary and sore that both standing and sitting are impossible and for days on end they must then stay spinning in air, like a top, several inches above the ground, is positively sure.