I live just down the street from a gas station. Big deal you say? Well it's not the station itself that is the topic of this long awaited post. No sir. It's the fact that on many occasion I have had the fortunate opportunity to gaze open the likes of the one I call "Gunther".

In this next bit I am going to somehow tie in this "spectacle to behold" with the lack of post between the OilTooth members.

It must be stated that this is merely a distraction.

You see, it was brought to our attention that we must use silence as a way to communicate.

A new flurry of activity will present itself to those who can find their on personal Gunther. Look no further than the local gas station jackass attendant with Bluetooth device localized in ear.

Don't let the device fool you, he is doing more than talking to his girlfriend.

I am willing to bet the telephonic reception he receives is an assembly of backwards code and the Babano rhize recordings.

I usually think this to myself as he rings up my "Texas Cinnamon Bun" and Mountain dew.

That's right bitches... I smell an OilTooth revival.