If you know, you know. If you don’t… then you really are missing out on a wild, lawless, booze-filled romp through the musical landscape of The Punching Pandas at Fleetwood on a hot summer night. It’s like if freedom was an androgynous Pleasure-Bot from the future built for direct stimulation of your eye and ear holes while maintaining a healthy respect for your individual level of comfort. It’s like if that perfect flavorful bite of S’more was an audible funky bass line lick whispered on the wind of a cool breeze on a warm sandy beach. It’s like when you’re successfully able to carry in all the grocery bags from the car in one trip. Yeah, it’s that good, come on out ya’ll!