Sir Millard Mulch

Sir Millard Mulch

To Hell With You, I Just Wanna Grow My Vegetables!

Ed Furniture Intergalactic Upholstery

Sir Millard Mulch scares me. He really does. He has that effortless air about him when he turns out these triple concept albums with huge gatefold sleeves. I have a theory about Sir Millard Mulch, I think he’s a COBRA cloning experiment to build a new genetically superior emperor. Think about it. Four years ago, the graves of Danny Elfman, Thomas Dolby, Jad Fair, David Lee Roth, Ian Mackaye, that farmer who made the crop circles, Leonard Nimoy, and Yanni were all desecrated/broken into at roughly the same time. And none of the authorities could explain why! Well, I can tell you why. It was to steal samples of their precious DNA to add to a big genetic stew!

What do you mean none of the people I mentioned are dead yet? Shut up, you’re ruining the story and perpetuating the lies you are fed by the military-industrial complex! Now, from that genetic stew came the embodiment of musical and strategic superiority, Sir Millard Mulch! Did you know that Sir Millard Mulch tried to kill me once? Oh, indeed! It was in the backroom of the Roxy after a Tommy Tutone show, and we were all doing tons of coke, and suddenly he confronted me out of nowhere about breaking the news to Rolling Stone about his super-secret guest appearance on Pamela Anderson’s VIP. He had a fucking mad look in his eyes, and the only way I got him to spare my miserable hack life was when I gave him my diamond-encrusted eyepatch and showed him the tattoo that I had of him on my right shoulder. I don’t mind telling you that he was more than a little freaked out over that. I consider it an honor and a privilege to have breathed the same air as him. The album is utterly ace, too.

Ed Furniture Intergalactic Upholstery, PO Box 3240, Venice, FL 34293;

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