Wow, well folkwave sauntering in as "Thigns" (signs, times, things) get tuff. Just imagining junky old radios fit to be tuned to the weirdest best times for all on the Ninety Point Nine. Living live, making life, dying to boredom, weeping free. A laugh, a cough, a scream. Humans own their lives again. May it all be for yought. Our sharing be a shifting power vision, a new creation inspiration, a destruction catalyst, all the blood of care pouring into lives with the love that is wild, desire that is raw; break out, baby, get down, family. And no money. Make Love and Give a Fuck. I'm gonna have to joing a crusht bannd. WAAH! Thanks, FRC. Peace, CS.