A Brief History of Slime By Stephen sQuawkings Listen up. This is sQuawk in your ear holes, and, since you are reading this, in your eye holes. Yes, without your eyeballs, you would be donning eyeholes. Could happen. Has happened. Appreciate the little things. Your body may be full of surprises. You may be growing a beard as you read this. Do no panic. This is normal. This is sQuawk! We formed out of necessity. Those (and by those, I mean youse) poor folk grooving out to Faith no More and Fantomas and Meshuggah and Cat “Yousef” Stevens and Frente (thanks Greg) and Primus and Mr. Big (BEEEEEEZZZ!!!) and Deftones, The Who, Rob Zombie, Hendrix, System, Hed Pe and dodgey sh*t yo mama would know– we feel for you. We feel for your mamas. We feel deeply. We feel your mamas deeply. We could not stand by, as bearded men, and watch you poor fools suffer the indignity of the feelings that listening to rad tunes manifest while pondering “Am I normal for thinking that there’s more to this?” Enter sQuawk! We are but 3 lords - Greg, The monstrous bass defiling yet mysteriously polite brains of the operation. Shaun, who once beat a beat out of a beat with his bare knuckles during a rehearsal. Only one thing was injured. SHITNESSSS! And Jay, “such a nice guy” they say, but when he breaks a string, there’s murder in his eyes. Together we live to serve heavy tunes to those that yearn to yell at sh*t that they aren’t really angry at but kinda want to be. We take your ears out to breakfast and pay the bill after a hot night of bath water drinking and touching of the brain, which is more sensitive than the bits you were thinking of. Grow up. You have a beard now. A generous beard. One may even go so far as to say plush. Your sensitivities are more distinguished for having read this just now. Listen to sQuawk! I did. You should. Go on. Click on sh*t. We’ve even got sh*t for sale. Yes, that’s right. Even sQuawk! bought copies of their own CD. It may be that you find what it is you were looking for right here. In the ear. Not in a weird way. Not in a “I fucked your ear” way, more like powerful yet considerate ear love making, like a rose made of hammers. Soft, sensual, muscular hammers. Appropriately timed and forcefully considerate rose petal hammers of brutally intricate and innocent yet confident ear love makers. We’ve got the rad sh*t. So please, gaze upon us with your eyeball filled eye holes and tilt your ears just so, that you may favour our sweet wares. This is where you belong. Unless you were looking for “not very rad shit”, cos then you are clearly lost. If, however, “not very rad shit” for a newly bearded soul as yourself could be construed as “rad shit” then you’ve found home. So, my newly bearded wayward yet rad sh*t seeking non-kin-kinfolk, welcome to sQuawk! Girthfully yours, sQuawk!