Because he’s apparently interested in bringing about the swift, sniffling, lame and pathetic demise of The Contrarian, Casey has asked me to come aboard to occasionally author some posts. Since it’s not my place to question why someone as smart as Casey would want to ruin a perfectly good thing, I graciously accepted. Too bad for all of you.
Two things in particular you should know:
1. I play golf. I like playing golf, watching golf and hitting golf balls at the driving range. I find it very therapeutic, among other things. If you think that makes me a wuss, you’re a jerk and a dummy.
2. I am not afraid to admit I find George Clooney to be a very good comedic actor. If you think that makes me a wuss, you’re a jerk and a dummy.
Anyway, my role here, as defined to me by Casey, can be summarized by what he calls "The Three P’s": Propaganda, Pelt Acquisition, and Pest Control.
The best thing Casey and I ever did together was play "Don’t Fear the Reaper" in the band we were in together in the late ’90’s. This wasn’t the radio edit version either – this was the whole smokin’ classic rock enchilada with an extra helping of whup-ass. For that brief moment, we were Gods.
The next best thing that happened around that time was when we were playing a show in Maine and an extremely "big boned" girl gave us a Polaroid picture of her breasts. Casey was somewhere else at the time, but back at the motel we tried to wake him up to show him the photo. Casey – a notoriously cranky sleeper – eventually roused himself, looked at it and said, "This is important." As usual, he was right.
Well, that’s about it for now, so I’ll turn this bitch back over to Casey, who will lead you through the dark.