There isn’t much time, and I have to tell you something that’s very important. I have to admit, I’ve never told this to anyone, and I’m feeling more than a bit embarrassed. Kind of like when I got arrested for stealing that pig, and how mortifying it was to be booked into the county jail dressed in my best suit, a dozen roses in my hand, an Andrea Bocelli CD in my back pocket and hog snout marks all over my face and collar. But that’s another story.

But if there’s anyone I can trust, it’s you. I know you would never let me down. Not like my ex-wife and that time she ran off with the Dee Dee Ramone roadie. I told her she’d get a reputation if she kept doing that, but did she listen? Now, whenever I go to a show, no matter if it’s Jo Dee Messina, John Anderson or Kodo, I can hear the road crew snickering behind my back while they exchange pictures of my ex performing unnatural acts with booking agents and managers. But that’s another story.

Yes, when I think of the events that led up to what I have to tell you, I feel more than a little angry. In fact, I haven’t felt so much rage since I was at an Insane Clown Posse concert, and the guy in the next seat kept elbowing me in the ribs and yelling, “great show, uh?” That is, until I stuck my fingers in his left ear, ripped out his ear drum and beat him over the head with it right before I jammed it up his right nostril. But that’s another story.

Not only is what I have to tell you very important, it’s also very personal. I’ve seen a lot of bands, great acts like Agents Of Good Roots and Blue Floyd, plus I’ve known a lot of animals, including farm critters and household pets. And when I look back on my life and think of the times I’ve had, like that night in the back of Great White’s tour bus, along with the hamsters, Janet Reno and the two Canadian Siamese twins from Australia, I feel that it’s time to confess, that I should tell you the truth about myself. Yes, it’s time to get it off of my chest and tell the world that I’m… I’m…

Oh, look, we’re all out of time.