I guess I need to put an About page on this thing. Normally I am pretty reserved about my background, but since this is the Internet and everything I’ll just let it all hang out. Hide in plain sight, like a terrorist running from a drone by heading to a soccer stadium. If there’s one thing we learned from the drone wars it’s that there is no wedding large enough to hide you from automated death from the skies. I mean, isn’t always  at a wedding when these guys get hit? I didn’t even know Islamic terrorists even got married. I guess they’re re-thinking that policy now! Hell yeah! “We want a quiet wedding between Ali and Pashma. Just a few close family members. Oh, and it’s in a bunker.”

But I digress.

I thought the best way would be to open the floor to questions, but since as yet I have zero readers I will just go ahead and answer questions I ask myself. I would probably do that anyway no matter what questions I was asked. So here goes:

 

Why are you called Speedway Randy?

Jesus. What a stupid question. Why are called Jared? Because your parents conceived you in a Subway crapper, or because you’re fat and wear khakis ten sizes too big? I’m not even going to justify this one except by saying because that’s my goddamn name.

Are you datable?

I wouldn’t know. I don’t know that metric. I’m not a woman, and I don’t ever go to “woman sites” like Cosmo or Gwynneth Paltrow.org.  By the way, does she name everything after fruits and vegetables, or only her kids?

What’s the best way to cop a free buzz if you’re in jail?

With this one, I have some experience. There’s my favorite, which involves hanging your head down between your knees and hyperventilating, then standing up real fast and pressing your thumbs against your carotid while you push out with your lungs like you’re trying to pop your head off. The added bonus happens if you pass out and bang your head since shock is a pretty wicked buzz. Worth the nausea, even.

What’s your worst job?

That I ever had? I’d have to say being fourth dishwasher at a big Chicago hotel. I got all the shit jobs, like cleaning out the grease traps and scrubbing the range hoods with myriatic acid. That shit wore the skin of both hands right off. Nobody told me I head to wear gloves. I also cut up a bunch of chiles ones at this Nouveau Mexican restaurant and went to take a piss. I tell you, it was like I jammed my dick into a barbecue full of hot coals. Again, nobody told me. Now I always ask if i should wear gloves. With some jobs it’s weird, but I figure you can’t be too careful.

Are you fired a lot?

Yes

How old are you?

Next question.

Who is somebody in the Public Media you admire?

My answer will probably surprise and maybe disgust you (and it’s not Hitler). I have to say Charles Manson. Now hear me out… he may have been a psycho baby-killing cult freak who did his tags in movie star blood, but you must admit the guy has style. All that recent flap about him getting married to that super young chick was pretty cool, and also there was a scene in Mad Men when they had a guy who looked just like him. But the real deal with him is that when he was young he was in Alcatraz. This was way before he made a name for himself as a criminal.They called him Little Charlie on account of being so scrawny. Anyway, he wanted to be a country music star, so he asked Alvin Karpis, a former Public Enemy Number One who had been on The Rock (yeah, they really called it that) since 1936 and had learned to play every Hank Williams and Jimmy Rogers song on guitar, for lessons. Karpis turned him down flat, saying he was too lazy and sketchy to put in the work.

Actually, screw Manson. Karpis was probably right. I don’t admire sketchy people that much. The girl didn’t even marry him. I’ll say Kanye. He’s an asshole, but it works in his favor.

Any advice for a youngster just starting out?

Yeah. Bring a weapon. Especially if that weapon is your mind (taps head).