If you hail from Miami, or anywhere near it, then you already know all about Blowfly, the foul-mouthed, crack smoking superhero from Miami's mean streets. Chances are you own at least two of his cassettes and can quote at least five verses from any number of his many X-rated party songs. You probably can recall the first time you ever heard his trademark laugh. You may have even met the man at eSync studios or at The Overtown Fleamarket. For the rest of you, not blessed enough to grow up on the dripity tip of America's flaccid dong, Blowfly might remain unknown, which is low-down dirty-dicked shame. Blowfly's immense influence can be heard in the ribald works of such ghetto pioneers as Too Short, Kool Keith, and fellow Florida filth flingers, 2 Live Crew. Blowfly (aka Clarence Reid) has been self-releasing "party Records" since 1969. This has resulted in a staggering body of work in which the man fucks everyone from the devil, to Mr. T, to Darth Vader, to various animals, political figures, and, well, you name it and Blowfly probably has a song about fucking it. Part Weird Al, part George Clinton, part Screamin' Jay, and all motherfucking, everloving Blowfly. Here is his 1976 assault on the musical abomination that was disco, aptly titled Blowfly Disco. A few years back a foppish visionary named Jello Biafra was introduced to the coarse peasant humour of Blowfly and quickly signed him to his label, Alternative Tentacles. Naturally Blowfly seized this opportunity to give a deep dicking to the weird world of Punk Rock. At the ripe old age of sixty four Blowfly shows no signs of slowing down or going soft. God bless Blowfly.