I envy you people on the outside, unsurrounded by, unintoxicated by drummers. You, never compelled to pursue and possess the Hammer of the Gods, are able to believe drummers have no craft, would never for example heatedly discuss drum motherfucking theory, in nerds-wildin'-out technical detail, over an entire two-hour Korean barbecue meal, despite countless presumably heartbreaking looks of supplicating misery from their tablemate, say.