In which me and my best friend think about rocking the world, then drink beer instead ...

It was a brilliant idea. Okay, we probably didn’t even think it was that hot of an idea when we first came up with it, but it was an idea. Randy and I, true connessiurs of all non-Living Color music, would rock the world with our own band. Of course, the path to fame and glory is never easy, and Randy and I confronted several problems right off the bat. But we were not deterred from our dreams of one day creating the music that would serve as the soundtrack to some crappy laser light show.

First problem, neither one of us knew how to play, or even owned, an instrument. Somehow, our addled brains got us far enough to determine that I would play guitar, and Randy would play drums. Or Randy would play bass and I would play drums. Or I would play the washboard and Randy would 

blow into an empty moonshine jug. As for learning to rock, Randy decided that his brother Roger would teach whichever one of us was the guitar player how to play guitar. I preferred the option of having Kenny teach us, so we could hit the stage and play a neverending loop of the first 30 seconds of Sweet Child O’ Mine. 

Second problem we had was that there were only two of us. In those heady pre-White Stripes days, a two-person rock and roll combo was virtually unheard of, unless we decided we wanted to be the Everly Brothers. I think we recruited our friend Dave to play whichever instrument the two of us weren’t going to pick up and master in a matter of weeks. I don’t think it ever got to the point that Dave knew he was in our band. He would have just slowed us down with a desire to play Rush covers, anyway.

And that’s as far as it got, although I think I did suggest the name Slaughterhouse Five for our band. Randy thought it was a stupid name. And he was right. I’m hoping someday we can put our artistic differences aside and launch a reunion tour.