With Shabby Road Studios convalescing from the savage onslaught of non-stop Don’t Tell Betsy sound barrages, Kev, Darrell and Carissa dropped over to Sanctuary Entertainment to lay down some vocals that would make the very angels in heaven weep.
Barry couldn’t have been happier to see us.
“Dear Facebook: Well, those assholes I told you about are here and complaining already. I swear, it takes every ounce of energy I have not to set them on fire.”
Darrell was very unhappy to find only 38 cents and a tube sock in the couch cushions.
“Can you imagine son, if all these records were donuts? I mean they’ve got holes in them and everything. And the gold records would be butterscotch donuts. Mmmmmm! What a scrummy world if would be!”
Jesus Christ! They’re stoned again. So, it’s only a matter of time before they try taking off their pants.
No. You’re wrong. I’m only taking off my shoe because my foot itches. Honest!
“If they sing Barnacle Bill the Sailor one more time, I will fucking flay those drunken fucks.”
Kevin and Eric wait ever-so-patiently for Carissa to bend over.
“Exactly where do a man’s ass cheeks go, when he turns 50?
“I should really go soak these in Lysol."
Darrell goes off to the bathroom and Carissa realizes she’ll only have to put up with one of them for the next two hours.
“Carissa, look into my strange and hypnotic eyes, Carissa. I possess all the powers of Mandrake. You are helpless....I'm over here”
“I do not know my own mind, Oh, Great One. I am only alive to do your every bidding.”
“What the hell kind of a song is this? Half of these musical notes are penguins fucking.”
“You see son, if you hold it with your hand like this, you don’t even need that screw I accidentally swallowed.
“If stupid was glue, those two schmucks could wallpaper New Zealand.”
Kevin looks as happy as a man can be when he’s peeing into his own Nikes.
“Any moron can see this is a peacock feather. I can’t believe Darrell thought it was an one-eyed alien hooker.”
“Ewww. That’s the second squishiest thing I ever sat in.”
“Every time I see you with that beard, I get a craving for Kentucky Fried Chicken.”
"Seriously, have you noticed that these guys are about a thousand years older than you?"
“She’s now deep inside the bowels of my recording booth…and it’s time that I put my secret and oh-so-evil plan into action. Bwa-ha!"
As soon as Carissa closed the door, Barry pulled a secret and oh-so-evil lever that started to transport her to a “Woman Auction” in the Andromeda Galaxy. Kevin was able to wrestle our engineer to the ground and Darrell hit the stop button. Luckily, she only lost a toe on her left foot and a small piece of her ass, which she said she didn’t mind.
“Hey, so sue me. They pay a lot of money for broads in Andromeda.”
“Wow! I think that bastard Barry is wearing my legs. How am I gonna get home?”
After 15 Crantinis, Carissa is a member of the best guys of a band in the world and stuff.
Because Barry is a really good guy, we must categorically state that none of the captioning to his pictures is in any way correct and does not in any way represent the very business-like way that Mr. Fasman comports himself.
And I would like also like to state, without fear of contradiction, that Mr. Fasman has never sold anyone to Andromeda. Thank you and goodnight.
If you are in need of a quality recording studio in the Los Angeles area, Barry's website is
Mr. Fasman was also the Producer of the Year in Great Britain (1982)
He can be contacted at: