And here I sit, another stupid bastard waiting for the sun to come up. It's not quite light yet and I can feel the day looming over me, taunting and menacing. I wonder aloud, what does this bastard want? It's a simple question, it wants what every day wants, your blood, your energy, your soul...
Grand Wizard of Propaganda at Defining Moment, I feel
it's my job to mold the minds of my readers to my stilted
worldview and create something vaguely resembling reality.
It is also my job to hold the staff meetings...
6:30 AM on a Saturday and my head still hurts from the
night before. Last night was the first Defining Moment
staff meeting and a chance for us all to get online
and jacked up for the future of this magazine. I had
a feeling earlier that night, there were bad omens in
the air, a slow grinding menace of what could come.
I bought a bottle of Jack Daniels for back up... in
case things got ugly.
staff started rolling into the meeting around 7:30.
I eyed them cautiously, knowing that one wrong move
could spell disaster for me. I had an agenda that evening,
and it was you my dear reader. The quality of this website
you are now reading is of the utmost importance to me,
and I'm not about to let a few drunken animals stand
in our way.
original meeting was scheduled for the Stroker Roadhouse,
an oddly homoerotic sounding biker bar. The type of place
you have to worry about getting pistol whipped when using
the glory hole. Fat, hairy bikers convene there and discuss
duvets over cosmopolitans on ice as Streisand blasts in
the background. The sort of surreal daydream you just
cannot wake up from.
got cold and money got tight, so the meeting was moved
to my private bar/sanctuary, the O Bar. "I must
have been out of my mind to let these degenerates in
here", I softly muttered to myself as they filed
in. Their soiled clothes and unkept, matted hair was
my first indication that this was no ordinary staff
meeting. This was Defining Moment and everything that
touches this website takes an odd turn.
started off the meeting with a few one liners and we
were off. The focus was to come up with some new article
ideas. At this point the drinks were flowing, I glanced
at my co-editor as he drained his fifth vodka tonic
and we both knew we had to do something to keep this
pack of mad dogs in line. I asked my beautiful girlfriend,
Jen, for another drink as she eyed the room uneasily.
I was going to need one to get through this in one piece.
an hour long discussion on the subtleties of why beer
shits and fucking young foreign boys were bad article
topics, I realized something. Something important, for
all their madness and strange ways, this was a gifted
I took the last gulp from my now empty bottle of Jack
Daniels, and slowly blacked out, a thought hit me. We
had just assembled a crack squad of madmen, degenerates
with no place in society, a psychologist's wet dream,
and these are the people that will be churning article
after article out on this site. Get ready for Defining
God help us all.
Onward and upward,
Editor-in-chief / Grand Wizard of Propaganda
April 9, 2005