In The Wilderness ~ one ~

~ one ~

To start, right at this moment, I'm probably--and I use the term lightly-- the second baddest motherfo to ever step foot on this planet. Now that we've got that under the carpet, let's get to the details and unlike some self-tellers out there, I'll tell you the unexpurgated truth. And to ease the queasy mind; I've never been forked in the buttocks by my dear uncle--God, the things people will say about themselves in order to receive some splendor. I, myself, have really led a pretty semi-normal life. To be sure, four stays in the mental health hospital may be my only claim to specialness.

In fact, the only thing that might compare is that in an age of extreme, economic insecurity--through no choice of my own--I happen to be happily and peacefully retired at the age of forty-three. Hence, this biography; I'm sorry, but I've gots to keep busy. Don't we all, dear brothers and sisters.

Before we get into the autobiographical schlep, let us firmly state why we are all here at this unique moment in time. Some two-thousand years ago, a 'clint eastwood' type of guy walked on the same dirt we walk on today. He had some cool things to say, did some cool things . . . and then they killed him. Now, it's not all that bad. I've often said that 90% of everything we strive for will fail. And, hell, I can't even remember the 10% that didn't. In a world where inspiration is the saving grace of we pitiful people, it's damn inspiring to know that over two-thousand years later, I still believe. Still believe in miracles that is. And you know, dear brothers and sisters, it's not a miracle if you tell it. So there, on with a story . . . (no miracles intended).