Do or Do Not.

I just wanted to interrupt the long stream of nothingness I’ve got been cultivating here to give a great big shoutout to my boy Timmy B., one of my most very bestest friends and my gleeful co-conspirator in much of my online empire.

I first met Tim back in ’93 when he was the newly-anointed manager of Turtle’s Music in Pensacola. I was the first guy he hired after he got the job, and as far as I know I was his longest-tenured employee, working at the store on and off for almost seven years as I slowly clawed my way through college. It didn’t take long for our shared interests in football, comic books, music and liquor to slam us together as friends, and friends we’ve been ever since (except for a brief period in ’98 when I pissed him off about something or other and was temporarily dead to him… luckily for me, that didn’t last).

Here’s to you, Timmy B — I hope you’ve had a grand thirty-seventh, fucker. I’m sorry I’ve missed the last several of your birthdays, but I’m gonna say it right now, here in public: I’ll be damned if I’m missing your fortieth. So you’d better come up with something big for it.