For a brief couple of years in the mid-90s, The State was our religion -- a lot like The Grateful Dead, Zep, or Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young for prior generations -- only preaching absurdist comedy instead of guitars and beards. Unless you count the Bearded Men of Space Station 11. Of our great generation, a few hundred of us trekked the pilgrimage to SF's annual Sketchfest to witness the reunion of our pop-culture Gods at the intimate Eureka Theatre.
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