If the Bacon Shoe doesn't fit you must acquit.

I regularly receive emails. I occasionally receive emails from friends. I rarely receive emails from strangers who read this blog. So, it was a happy day today when I received an email earlier from an individual who claims to be a longtime reader this blog.

The purpose of this individual's email was quite simply: Bacon Shoe, so when I clicked on the link provided I thought I would end up with a pair of bacon shoes or at least a pair of pig sandals.

I was mistaken. What I found on the other end of the url was video of what appears to be a musical group call Bacon Shoe playing live at a bar/club. I immediately was hooked, at first by the bacon that Mr. Ruggles was cooking on stage and once my boss left the office by the "music."

A little about Bacon Shoe from Kansas City's The Pitch: "This trio — consisting of an MC (Lethal D) who raps about sex and disease, a hype man ('Toine) who shouts out the number of beers he happens to be holding and calls himself "the cocktopus" (because I got eight dicks), and a guy in a paramedic suit and mangled dog-head mask (Mr. Ruggles) who cooks bacon on a griddle onstage and distributes it to the crowd — treads the line recklessly between insult and tribute.


Bacon Shoe, when you are in DC let me know, I got the booze, you got the bacon.

Update: The emailer was not a stranger at all, but a dear friend and Black, White and Pink party-going enthusiast Sandro. I apologize for any emotional trauma that my calling you a stranger may have had.