Ryan McFarland

I was in a “band” in High School. Correction. I hit a few musical instruments for a few weeks with some other people that hit musical instruments. We called ourselves NMOA - Nazi Milkmen on Acid. There were three of us and none were Nazis or had ever done acid. But one did work in the dairy department of a grocery store. We got together a few times and just were silly - everything really clicked the second “jam” we had and we set up a tape recorder in front of us. We had a bass, guitar, and keyboard (set to percussion). I played the percussion (in the form of a roll of masking tape being rolled on the keys) and sang for a few of our four tracks. One song was “Arthropod Murderers” and was about turning on the shower and not clearing out the spiders and moths before drowning them. Another was “Sloth” where two of us fought about whether sloths were marsupials or not. “Sloths are not marsupials!” “Sloths ARE marsupials!” “Sloths do not nurse their young in a pouch!” “You nurse your lung in a pouch!” Then there was “Squaredance Song” which combined a nice polka beat with thrash metal guitar rifts. It alternated between a nasal squaredance caller and the shouts of - well, nothing really. We just shouted a lot. Our last song was “El Fundador” which supposedly was a tale of the other two band member’s trip to Taco Bell where one ate El Fundador and later passed gas so awful that the other one threw up his Taco Bell meal. Good times. Good until we took on a fourth member. Another guitarist. The only problem was that he could really play. He played so well that i quit. You would have too if a deaf guy was a better musician than you. He played with his foot on the amp and just felt the vibrations.