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Mon, Sep. 20th, 2010, 07:24 am
You can't breed a sled team without drowning a few puppies

Friday I gave my friend another drum lesson. His dedication shames me.

Today I had to tell one of the guys that he had to abandon a song project that he had started. It was a mashup with a rock song that I didn't know, and I had no confidence that our listeners would catch the references. For me, the Deathbillies songs are jokes, and I only tell jokes that are funny to me. There's a viability line for material and you drown what's beneath it to nurture what's above.

I've struggled over how to communicate the bad news, because I know it hurts: these moments happen when you run a dog kennel, and you console yourself that above that viability line that you've set, you give your puppies the best chance anyone could give them, and you're able to make good on that promise because you've thrown a few colicky ones in the river.

Sure, on cold mornings I think about "My Own Wichita Lineman Summer (Shove It)," but I don't miss that sick puppy, because I have a responsibility to the viable, and "God Save the Line" and "I Believe in The Trooper" aren't gonna feed themselves. Plus there's new puppies being born, and we have to focus. For their sake, we have to focus.

Sometimes comedy puts you on a bridge with a wriggling burlap sack in your hand. Comedy isn't pretty.



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