Sleep well in the knowledge you are not suffering a mutiny of the brain stem. We did use that name until I wrote a piece of copy for a demo disc recording session. You see, your humble scribe is a voice talent (pity the soul that suffers the presence of fools and shameless self-promoters <cough> www.samgirdich.com) and I wanted some words of my own on my demo disc. So, I sat down and wrote an advertisement for a fictional product.

It went as follows:

     "Yes, Mr. and Mrs. America, the miracle minds at Strongarm Labs have done it again! Those Lightning Lads of Science, inventors of Wolf Away -the only patented werewolf repellent armed with a money back guarantee- have lifted one of the great weights of modern life off your busy shoulders. Introducing Strongarm Labs Clear Peanut Butter! Yes, smooth, rich tasting Clear Peanut Butter. Never again will the triumvirate of Death, Taxes, and brown peanut butter haunt your doorstep! Remember, if it's clear and it's peanut butter, it's Strongarm Labs Clear Peanut Butter.

Strongarm Labs: if they say it can't be done, we're working on it!"
 
I passed the above to Mark and he liked the name. So, now we are Strongarm Labs. But, is that the whole story? Let's turn it over to Mark for the rest of the story. For you see, it all really began with a mouse... 

Mark:

Strongarm Labs was formed in the summer of 2003 at a comic convention in Chicago Illinois. Sam and I had somehow made the decision to drive from Albany, New York to Chicago for this, our first major convention. A fact we would come to regret on the curiously much longer and noticeably more silent return trip. Around the fifteenth or sixteenth hour of the ride home I was almost positive I saw a lion run across the road. Looking back now, I may have been wrong.

There are a few other things that jump out at me in my memory of that convention. The skateboarders' deafening music playing non-stop only yards behind us as they rolled up and down their indoor half pipe which acted as some evil amplifier from Hell. The three dollar cans of soda. The cute girl with thick black glasses and blue hair. Most memorable was the dead mouse laying silently against the red and white wall across from our table. For three days we watched the dead mouse, wondering when someone of authority might notice and properly dispose of the grey creature. No one did. Eventually we tried selling the deceased rodent, placing a card that read, “DEAD MOUSE $5” near to it. Although the advertising produced a number of bemused stares and chuckles it did not produce any extra income for us. Which was too bad because I really wanted another soda. At the end of the convention we packed up our books and posters and made our way to the exit pausing only briefly to give a wink and a nod to our decaying companion of three days. Vaya con dios my little friend, Vaya con dios.