The global economy is in virtual free fall, two apocalyptic environmental disasters are cravenly mocking us in unison, and mud-slinging and paranoia are sinking our political discourse to new, unmined depths.
And the cruel troika of poverty, war and disease are plowing forward with sinister new traction.
Some are whispering that there's no hope for our future.
Well I say there sure the fuck is as long as the the Alabaster Groinasaurus is still dropping his silky smooth jams.
That's right--we need you more than ever, Nicky Dreams.
Step up, suggestively grind your svelte, percussive hips and coolly transform this broken world into your own personal pleasuredome.
Then impregnate our souls with your Miles Davis-esque Southern Ohio funk.