A downright full blasted attempt to mess up the social scene in Atlanta. In our humble and itchy opinion, this city needs more! We are not promotors, we are not clubbers, we are not affliction, we are not smart, we are not good looking and we are not sure. A mighty trio formed from an arguably handicap ex mascot, a strikingly attractive nomad gal from somewhere and a remarkably strong small man known for busting ass and taking names, we are Marshall. No, not Marshall. We are jean shorts, we are fake gold, we are the tears of a clown and the sparkle in your eye. Our battles lie with black outs and bar feet and we leave no man behind. We encourage helmets and loathe last call. Our goal, our mission, our quest, our job, our desire, our speed, our caffeine, our size, our milkshake is to create unforgettable times and dope beat rhymes. That was a lie, we don’t rhyme. We will create the most fantastic and unique events while birthing an environment fit for the common man and notable kings of 3rd world countries. In the land of social clubs, we easily pull 8th place. Ripped to the giddy tits and rash forming, we are a social mess.