Whatever works Winks, just keep smoking it if these sounds are the stuff that comes out of getting baked instead of babies. Here's looking at you, “Fred Flintstoned (In Honor of Bongy Rubble)”.
The self-titled album focused on interior shots of dude hiding from a hard rain in an outdated Dolby-engineered wind tunnel with nothing to do but spout truisms and doodle on his instruments (because weed makes self-abuse weird, too). For instrumental exteriors of the quiet desolation he's hiding from, check “XMAS”.
Cue the hits: