I wake up and look out the window of my Toorak penthouse, down at the fools rushing off to work below.
Jerome sits up in bed behind me.
"What's wrong, my homosexual lover?" he asks, "Come back to bed."
"Nothing, honey," I reply, "I just like to look at those idiots and laugh. I'll slit my wrists again before I work for The Man!"
"Why don't we put a Staind record on our very cool retro turntable and make sweet homosexual love?" suggests Jerome.
Okay, now that we've taken care of Weerhym's desires, let's move on to the heady world of reality.
I was rather surprised to find what appeared to be a hash pipe in the glove box of my car this morning... Does it belong to any of you cunts? I know it's not mine.
You may have noticed the delightful picture of the King of the Dead on the main page. I got upcoming Valley artist and musician Jelly to draw it for me...
Okay, you know the King of the Dead? You know John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever? Bring them together, my friend.
And bring them together he did... hell, he even threw in a fucking Long Island Ice Tea!
"This cunt doesn't pay a fucking cover charge, that's for sure." - Jelly.
Nazis and other less hate-filled fans... I'll be on the radio again next Monday night.... 104.7FM 9-1030. Check it, yo.