October 31, 2015


Hey Ho!

Valley is up. All howls past All Hollows, 'cause the terror is flowing nonstop down the administrator's hilltop.
These days we got devilish good news. V A L L E Y - OCT 17 - NOV 10. 
An Eternity in one month.
Call your pals, and get your hankies 'cause Shalo P's gonna make you laugh 'til you cry.
It's probably just gonna be a lot of weeping and kicking things into corners.

Sorry for the INTERNET lags - we make up for it by being negligent
We were letting the new girl work on the updates. Can you EVER trust a mohawk? Tell me true.
She'd made about fifty little paper boats with the notes we'd supplied, half of them downstream by the time we decided to just jot the word "DOOM" on new sheets ALL OVER AGAIN.
We are priming up for some "choice" fun on Halloween with big news from the office.
There's going to be a personal tour. Check here.

PLUS, this came into the office today (A REVIEW). Some scamp copied it like crazy (along with a bevy of scanned butts) and papered the walls of the workshop like a madhouse. There was a hush when the boss shuffled in. Breath was held. At the office we're kind people - we want the environment to spring forth with cheer,
but surprises are a notch above civility.
Anyhoo, Betty's out back crafting a totem pole of crack addicts out of wax with the leftover paper

Sometimes I'm asked if Shalo P is real.
I tell them: NO.

Yep, a tour. Usually, there's nothing like a little silver spray paint to the eyes to make silly requests go away, but this gig is NAILED DOWN. See you there, unless an intern finds that box of cans I KNOW is stashed somewhere in the back.
Personally I'm just hankering for a crack at lighting that big ole' pumpkin's head just to see fire spurt from behind his black glasses and curly hair.

Fun Fact: Shalo P was originally going to call the show "AKA everything in this universe fought me to finish this sentence, 'cause I'm releasing this blasted thing, or I die right fucking no-"

And that's when I heard news of Shalo P's passing. This was, coincidentally, also his reaction to the walls. He just withers and dies. We embalm him, and then boil his remains, ladling the Shalo P syrup into a tin "The Smiths" lunchbox until he adequately recovers.

Just spoke to Sister Spread over the phone. She's fine with me handling things for now. I felt trapped in keeping back that this "mid-career opus" thing Shalo keeps mentioning isn't magically turning into the sort of "loving gesture that echoes out into eternity" like the "human psychic energy reverb" he'd hoped for. It's nice and all, yes, but frankly, Mr(s) Franks, I work alongside him, and I'm of the mind that he's all out of loving gestures these days.

Oh He's fine.

This was his last email:
Didya read the review? It might have a connection to a dream I had of a loud stone echo symphony shaking the trees as distant loping wolves wildly led each other to a moonstone marbly ravine where they all howled, nestled like leaping lizards in the dark lord's ivy bowl, carving out the shape of the sky. The sky was affected like a prism. Can you please send a bouquet of those to the writer?

What sounds like hell swallowing down a thousand souls playing little laughing pianos? VALLEY.
What reads like an all-at-once novel swirling in questionable literary mischief? VALLEY.
What do cunningly crafted conceptual comic strip soundtracks and orientation musical mystery thrillers have in common? VALLEY.

OR SEE YOU NEVER. (how about a little of both?)

From the Desk of Shalo P :
Let's let the curve get another raise from what we have carved from dark.
But then again, having a three-way with your Calculus and Algebra teachers isn't the only way to prove you're a Polymath

Let's motor,

Sarah Burke's Review of VALLEY for East Bay Express

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