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The song, "Nothing's Sacred" seems to summarize the general theme behind most of the songs on these tapes, and also the general attitude of this band. These songs are filled with anger and cynical humor, usually shouted with acoustic guitar/drums backing up very low in the mix. I think if these guys took some time with the recording process (sound-wise at least-- the performances are good as they are) and made the instruments bite as hard as the vocals, they would definitely have a powerful piece of work here. -- Bryan Baker

Jeff "Fingerhead" Jarvie and friends definitely stick with a style on this tape. Sort of a folk-rockish blend of Neil Young and Bob Dylan. The Mystery Tramps are a definite progression from Jarvie's earlier band, The Cheapskaters, in that the melodies are more diverse, and they actually employ hooks on a couple cuts, namely on "Fade To Black" and "The Fluffy Girl," which also happen to be the standouts on this tape. Jarvie's lyrics are as full of humorous cynicism and anger, while treating women as objects of such; and the rhymes often are forced-- so much so that it's becoming a trademark of sorts. -- Bryan Baker

reprinted from GAJOOB #5 (1990)

by Jeff "Flngerhead" Jarvie

Jimmy Hoffa is entombed under the goalpost of the New Jersey Giants stadium. Traci Lords' films are entombed in Hanger 18 at the Wright·Patterson Air Force Base in Dayton, Ohio (the same hanger that also contains frozen extraterrestrials and Elvis clones).

If you don’t know who Jimmy Hoffa is, you should watch In Search Of, read Playboy, or just wait for his colon to appear in your breakfast sausage. Anyway, Jimmy Hoffa was a Teamster leader who wandered into oblivion many years ago and has not been seen since. Over the years, many theories have arisen to explain his disappearance. Here are just a few: he was fed to gators in Florida; he was pressed into sausage in Ohio; he was abducted by aliens who forced him to watch Traci Lords' films until his eyes popped out, then they rearranged his molecules until he resembled Elvis (so all of these Elvis sightings that we read about in The Weekly World News can now be explained- it’s just Jimmy Hoffa with rearranged molecules). Whichever Jimmy Hoffa disappearance theory you subscribe to, you have to admit that he would make one damn scary Elvis. 

I first learned about Jimmy Hoffa’s disappearance from an episode of In Search Of hosted by the God-like actor/singer, Leonard Nimoy (if you've ever heard Leonard sing "Highly Illogical' or “Proud Mary" you'd understand why I referto him as “God-like'). . .

In fact, if it wasn't for Leonard Nimoy and In Search Of there would be no “Speculation' column. Leonard Nimoy is the godfather of speculation. So, if you wanna bitch about this column, I suggest that you write to Leonard. In the words of Charles Manson: "Why blame me? I didn’t write the music.'

What was this column about? Okay, now I remember.

(Question: What do tirades and Elves have in common? Answer: They both can have magical powers). ·

Anyway, In Search Of informed a young Jeff Jarvie about the strange case of Jimmy "where the Hell am I?" Hoffa. It got me to thinkin'. I started spending all my free time thinking about the whereabouts of Jimmy Hoffa. I spent so much time thinking about Jimmy Hoffa that I lost all my friends, had to drop out of High School, and started reading Leonard Nimoy poetry books for sexual gratification.

After losing my friends, my education, and obtaining a poetry-fueled sex-drive, I knew that I had hit rock bottom. Luckily, I found solace in the porn films of Traci Lords. Thanks to Traci, I solved the Jimmy Hoffa mystery. So, now you’re asking: "So Jeff, where is Mr. Hoffa?' Well, I'd like to tell you, but due to legal reasons and Christina Applegate, I can't tell you. But I can tell you this .... We all have times in our lives when we feel lost. We all have times in our lives when we feel like we are being buried under a football stadium or made into sausage. So where is Jimmy Hoffa? I'd like to think that there's a little bit of Jimmy Hoffa in all of us. And wouldn't you?

Traci Lords changed my life. The first film of hers that I remember watching was called Lust in the Fast Lane. lf you haven't seen this film, you’re just outta luck, because this film is among the many Traci Lords films that were sucked into the abyss after it was discovered that her father was Billy Barty. Lust in the Fast Lane is the Plan 9 From Outer Space of porn films. In Plan 9, a ghastly looking Bela Lugosi wanders in and out of a graveyard. In Lust in the Fast Lane, a ghastly looking Traci Lords wanders in and out of lucidity. Plan 9 provides us with many shocks by showing us closeups of paper plate UFOs (a brief flashback to my last column). Lust in the Fast Lane provldes us with many shocks by showing us closeups of Traci's genitals. Plan 9 was directed by Ed Wood Jr., who often dressed in women's clothes on the movie set. Lust in the Fast Lane was directed by Adam, who is often heard giving such bizarre directions as: “Lick it off each other’s faces.' And you thought that the Lincoln/Kennedy coincidences were eerie.

But don't feel bad if you haven't seen Lust in the Fast Lane; so far, only Craig Blomquist and I have seen it. And the CIA put LSD in his tap water so that he wouldn’t talk about it. Traci is still around (unlike Jimmy Hoffa, Elvis, JFK and Dorothy Wallace). She appears in the remake of the sci-fi classic, Not of This Earth (you can say that again). The movie poster states: "Traci Lords is not of this Earth" (another flashback to my last column).

Hopefully, one day Leonard Nimoy will go in search of Traci Lords. And if we're lucky, we can all go along with him. Maybe we can raid Hanger 18, discover Traci's “lost" films. Take pictures of the frozen alien corpses, and then invite Jimmy Hoffa Elvis to view the alien photos and Traci's videos with us. To dream the impossible dream .....

In conclusion, I'd just like to say that Jimmy Hoffa may never be found, Traci Lords' films may never be viewed again, but Leonard Nimoy will always have a theory (or a poem) about where they are.

A Dorothy Walrus is never Paul.