It might be training camp time for the Washington Wizards, but Wizznutzz is in mid-season form.

G!!!

We are still alive & full of peyote, just taking a break to brush up on our Halo 2 skills — which might make you think we’re young. But truly, peyote is an old person’s hallucenegogocicc and WE’RE ANCIENT. For instance, when you wrote “any knowledge of Greystone Hall’s Scary Carey” in your Tigers playoff posting we collectively spit out a whole mouthful of Bartles & James. You see, despite our love of all this Wiz, one half of our team is a Detroit native. Greystone Ballroom was our stomping grounds, and Scary Carey was the person we often wanted to stomp, especially when he promoted a show featuring Uniform Choice and a bunch of hippies called Dinosaur showed up instead. Or maybe it was The Fluid. Either way, HIPPIES. And then there was the time that we walked into the Greystone and saw a horse fucking someone. On VHS, not live, but it was still a horse fucking someone. Scary Carey offered to refund our money.

We took him up on it, but not before meeting a lad called “Mute” who didn’t speak but had the letters M-U-T-E on his knuckles. But why was he at a punk club if he couldn’t hear? BUT WE DIGRESS. Just the offhanded mention of Scary Carey was reason enough for us to reaffirm our love for you, G. In your honor we’re gonna pop in a DVD of a horse fucking someone (hey, we got over it) and play some Negative Approach REALLY FRIGGIN SOFTLY. It’s meditation time, friend, it’s meditation time.

xoxoxoxo straight & alert, WNTZ