(Copper Gate) Fine. FINE. I am writing about the Suffering Fuckheads, a band that, even thought they diligently show up on the calendar every month, I never sought out because when you put the fuck word in your band name, you are (a) already getting "a lot" of publicity because everyone has a secret 12-year-old inside of them whose eyes are magically drawn to swears and (b) probably a death metal band in the same vein as Vaginal Defecation. But fuck it, Fuckheads, I'm in the Christmas spirit, and you know what? Turns out it's not death metal! It's spazz jazz! Something a person could really get wild to on Christmas Day (after so much rumnog). Free, cartwheely jazz skronking through the snow in an unbalanced sleigh of postmodernity. Sorry I made a band-name-based judgment; I think we all learned a valuable Christmas lesson here. About rumnog.