A virgin, a clown legacy, and a land surveyor walk into a bar...

The power of myths is that they couldn't have happened, but did. Charlton Heston, in Planet of the Apes, parted a sea, found New York destroyed, then cried. In Goonies, those kids found out that the true pirate treasure was the gold in one another's hearts. In Gremlins, if you eat and drink after midnight, you get cranky and tend to blackout after something's been smashed up-like a liver, a table, or a relationship. With Christmas, a fat man you don't know but is awful friendly gives you a present you'd been praying for.

Some said it couldn't be done. That it'd never happen. It's been the better part of a decade since the last Tiltwheel full-length. If Dillinger Four had their Civil War, Tiltwheel was fighting their own personal Vietnam.

Go look in a mirror and point a finger at that. Is your shit ultra-tight? Is everything in order and makes sense? No fucking way. So why should anyone demand a group of dudes to perform on your tight-ass, time-as-cancer schedule?

Don't yell at glaciers to hurry up. Don't expect life to be anything less than full of injustice, bad decisions, bad health, unfairness, inequalities, and the death of friends.

Take time to savor a clear and honest DIY goodness. Eleven songs of pure dynamite, the type of dynamite that cleared the way for the Hoover Dam. And that's still generating power seventy-five years later.

RIYL: A world that without cops, whiskey in drinking fountains, twelve pack cartons used as slippers, Battalion Of Saints, Tanner, David Allan Coe, insomnia, the sound of laughter when asked "When's the next record coming out?", mowing a lawn when it doesn't need it, but your parents love that wheel pattern it leaves in the grass, when "socialism" means that Propagandhi's beer is everyone's beer, clowns doing cannon balls.