When I was a young teenager first experimenting with LSD -- I won't say exactly how young, but I was born in 1971 and a full year after its release the Violent Femmes' debut album remained my preferred easy-listening record, so you can do the math -- anyway, late one night, while under the influence of hallucinogenics, I stumbled across a television charity drive for the victims of thalidomide-related birth defects. For those not old enough to remember, thalidomide was a sedative prescribed to pregnant women in the 1950s; it inhibited the development of limbs in utero, so children born to thali-popping moms often had little hands attached to their shoulders or boneless legs that ended in soft, fleshy points. We children of the acutely irreverent '70s called them flipper kids. They were a popular topic of conversation, the subject of a much-coveted underground British comic, and the namesake of a beloved San Francisco punk band (that's right, Flipper was not an ironic nod to the dolphin). As far as I know, thalidomide babies were not a suggested point of focus for acid trips, but there I was, on acid, watching TV with no volume as a little flipper boy rolled around on a Persian carpet in front of a fireplace while Violent Femmes played in the background on my stereo. It was a seriously fucked-up experience -- a fascinating, perversely funny, unforgettable, aurally satisfying experience, but fucked-up just the same -- which brings us to the Boneless Children Foundation. If ever there was a band that could have sprung from my subconscious that night, like a drug-addled, guitar-slinging Athena, it is the BCF. Bright, boisterous, and bizarre, the group lays claim to a vaguely effeminate, slightly atonal, banjo-playing lead vocalist (not wholly unlike my beloved Gordon Gano) who openly displays his absurdist proclivities with songs about Andy Rooney, goldfish, bank robbers, and throwing parties at the National Zoo. The quartet, at once skillful and silly, bounces between druggy glam-rock extravagance and clever post-punk precision, displaying a knack for 'toonish syncopation that would've made Carl Stalling drool. It's little wonder, then, that it has become a favorite with smart, markedly off-center local sketch comedy shows like Late Night With God and Killing My Lobster's Pop! Despite the group's comedic associations, jubilant deportment, and slightly off-color nomenclature, though, once heard, it can never be dismissed as a joke band, unless you are one of those able to overlook the genius of Ween because its members don't take themselves as seriously as you do. The Boneless Children Foundation performs at "Sunday School" on July 18 at Studio Z, along with the S.F. Mime Troupe-membered bluegrass band the Bastard Brothers and the dance-theater-circus Kook Troupe; call 252-7666 or visit www.studioz.tv.