Because you don’t know me…
I solemnly swear that:
I’ll assume that my readers are intelligent people holding onto those mice, until you prove otherwise. Thus, I won’t try to influence your responses by inserting too many emoticons. The only tears or laughter you hear, will be your own.
Nobody here is having a baby. Nobody here is getting married. Somebody here might be getting a divorce. We’ll see…
All of the people depicted here are probably fatally flawed.
The kid is, and will always remain, a kid.
No one will get stranded in a cabin, stuck in an elevator, electrocuted on stage, mugged by groupies, or eaten by Grizzlies. Unless… it’s really, really, funny!
There will be no rambling posts about “dream sequences,” “cliff hangers,” “talent shows,” or even “baby news.” Unless… it involves a guitar!
Nor, will there be any homages to “The Simpsons,” “House,” “It’s a Wonderful Life,” or any show ever produced or aired by those idiots over at MTV.
You may see an homage to Carlos, or Stevie, even Jeff, or possibly even Joe.
There will be no pedantic socially conscious stories aimed solely at separating you from your wallets. That’s what guitars are for.
There will be NO “fat jokes” unless they are really, really, funny. (“Fat groupie jokes” can be extremely funny.)
The same rule goes for “Penis jokes.”
So, in summary… Don’t run with scissors! Drink your milk! Your mileage may vary! And… most importantly;
“At no time will my fingers leave my hands. Stunt hands will NOT be used.”
That is all.