It’s Not A Shame About The Creedence

When a guy dresses like a farmer, only with leather pants and a figure skater’s haircut, and he wants to serenade you through a guitar that sounds like it should be dogfighting in a SPAD, and it’s plugged into Herman Munster’s couch with a telephone cord, you best sit up and take notice, son.

Attention: Disregard the rhythm guitar player’s left foot or you’ll have a seizure.

Feel free to observe all of Hammurabi’s limbs as he operates the drums, however.