My third favorite live band of all time (behind Springsteen and the Afghan Whigs) is calling it quits. So unless I find myself in San Diego on Halloween, I shall never again be graced with the sweaty, matching-shirt greatness that is Rocket From the Crypt. The worst part is, I just got my RFTC tattoo so I could get in free at all future shows. Once again, done in by my own procrastination. That tattoo is going to be more dated than the "Thug Life" tattoo on my stomach ("hugs not guns" is the new gangster).