We are Chimanko. We like to play. We like to rock. And sometimes roll. We are rock fundamentalists; extremists, if you will. We sneer in the face of convention, roll our eyes at the presence of orthodoxy, and fart in the general direction of the mainstream. We don't have nice shoes, and we don't eat our vegetables (except cucumbers - they're well nice). We are as unsigned as a consent form to be smacked about the face, and about as slick and professional as a drunk, one-legged howler-monkey stumbling through a nocturnal swamp. We are gathered at the altar of the spirit of punk rock; with a tear in one eye, a glint in the other, nausea in our bellies, love in our hearts, and fingers cut up by guitar strings. It has been said of us that we "rock like a whore in the dirt" - that statement has since been verified by corroborative witnesses.