The radness of these dudes was truly legendary. Tales of their rude ‘tudes spread far and wide, echoing off every majestic mountaintop, milliseconds before those mountaintops exploded into brilliant fireballs of rock and roll. Wild falcons cawed in time with their mighty heartbeats. A thunderstorm of Clydesdale hooves signaled their every arrival. With but one rapacious wink of their piercing eyes, any radical babe perched on the hood of a Corvette was theirs, heart body and soul. Indeed, their sickness was too unfathomably grand for this world, which explains the whole them-exploding-instead-of-the-car-they-planted-a-bomb-in thing.