We were somewhere around Barstow...

Evil

George Plimpton, the pioneer of participatory journalism, talked his way into pitching at Yankee Stadium, quarterbacking for the Detroit Lions, and playing goalie for the Boston Bruins. Hunter S. Thompson, pioneered another type of journalism -- Gonzo -- which involves loading up on drugs til your head is totally whacked and then you report on various escapades in the first person.

"We were somewhere outside of Fayetteville on the edge of golfing country when the drugs began to take hold..."

That's the first line of my upcoming collaboration with Xtian. The rest has yet to unfold. In about a month, Xtian and I will take the NJ Transit to Newark Airport and rent a Toyota Camry, which will probably have more than a faint aroma of urine. Then we're gonna drive that bitch straight down 95, headed for golf school and possibly the worst acid trip of our lives. The combination of golf school and Gonzo... Plimton and HST... Xtian and Evil... and you know what, biotch? Cash. We're doing this for Reason Magazine. I, as "the attorney," negotiated a $500.00 advance on the story and when it's done, they pay us 6 cents a word. Officially, Xtian and I are splitting that 50/50, but I might just throw him into a ditch when the writing is done because the only thing worst than having to share cash is having to share the plentiful poontang that comes after fame taps me on the shoulder. The light is shining right at me, and nobody else.