Environmental sound, dogs barking, harsh noise, spliced tape compositions and classic audio surrealism with a cracked Euro madman edge: “So you were too gassed and passed on his “Murder At Maybeck Manor” disk on Dolor Del Estamago (Stomach Ache)? That don't surprise me one jot, so we are giving you a chance of sweet intoxicating redemption. Bite the hand, bozo. Jorge Boehringer was once some yankee man about town on the Left Coast, but he made haste and headed east and now resides in the Czech Republic, where he spends his nights handing out confusion orders to the aural senses of the locals. Even the most orthodox bubbleheads praise his soothing balm for bandaged brains. Pragues famous automated pickle jars vibrate to the heavy viola and electronic sounds of this fruity lugnut. He turns the snot smeared sky red. Feel his algebra chafe your mind.” – Dylan Nyoukis.