I Don't Objectify Women. I'd

There Is No Finer Sonic-producing Weapon For A Guitar Slayer Than A Hand Crafter Gibson Masterpiece.

Well, On That Day I Ceased Cleansing My Body. No More Brushing My Teeth, No More Washing My Hair, No Baths, No Soap, No Water. Thirty Days Of Debris Build. I Stopped Shavin’ And I Was 18, Had A Little Scraggly Beard, Really Looked Like A Hippie…then Two Weeks Before, I Stopped Eating Any Food With Nutritional Value…then A Week Before, I Stopped Going To The Bathroom. I Did It In My Pants. Poop, Piss The Whole Shot. My Pants Got Crusted Up.

Those That Are Goofy Enough To Believe The Outrageous Lies And Hate Spewed About Me In The Mind-numb Media Are Inconsequential And Pathetic. Those That Know Me Are Certain Of My Goodness And Connect With Me Deeply.

There's An Absolute Surety To The Hands-on Conservation Lifestyle Of Hunting, Fishing And Trapping Where You Know You're Going To Consume Today.

I'd Like To Have James Brown As My Singer. I Already Have The Best Drummer, Tommy Clufetos. I've Jammed A Bunch With John Entwistle, And It Was Like A Musical Orgy. That Guy Is A Living, Breathing, Grunting Rhythm. For Horns, Let's Go With The Stax/volt Guys, And I'm Going To Have Steve Cropper On Standby Just In Case I Want A Rhythm Guitarist.