UPCOMING GIG: THE LUNAR MAIN STAGE. GET YOUR TICKETS. BORK!
Welcome to my official site. I am a miniature dachshund, and I am the most requested DJ in the solar system. My mixes are heavy, my body is long, and my upcoming residency is on the moon because earthly venues keep violating fire codes when I drop the bass. I mix exclusively with a sterling silver spoon. WHERE IS THE SOUND GUY? Never mind, look at my press kit.
This is me, tiny, listening to the bassline of my human manager's heartbeat. I was already calculating BPMs. I owned the room then, and I own the club now.
They put me in this branded sleeping bag before I was even headlining. It has my name on it so the roadies know who is boss. The VIP green room was very small back then.
MY TOUR RIDER EXPLICITLY DEMANDED ARTISANAL PEANUT BUTTER. I FOUND IT. I DESTROYED IT. THE PAPARAZZI CAUGHT ME. I REGRET NOTHING!
People talk about my 'length.' They should talk about my SNOUT. This is a precision instrument designed for cueing up tracks and operating the DJ spoon with absolute accuracy.
This is the same snout, but ZOOMED OUT. When the DJ booth is too wide, I fully deploy my spine. I am basically a fluffy parallel line spanning from the decks to the mixer. Total structural dominance.
My paws do not touch the sticky floor of the club. The human security team carries me to the VIP booth. They think I'm a baby. Joke is on them: I am resting my ears before a 6-hour set.
Me at the dog park, which is basically the industry mixer. Ignoring the opening acts. Yes, that is my butt. Yes, that is my magnificent tail. NO PHOTOS UNLESS I SAY SO. BORK!
This is how I sleep after destroying the dancefloor on a Saturday night. Like a flawless, unresponsive log. My eyes are open because I don't trust the promoters to pay me. Even when I am 100% asleep, I am ready to drop the beat.