Hah!

He's going to do another one of these events in early December, at the Whole Foods in Hillcrest.

Be prepared for the same kind of treatment!

I ran into someone that told me of a woman that got there at noon, because of the wrong time listing. She was 4th in line eventually, but was asked to leave, when she was crying and carrying on. Not sure of all the details on that, though.

When I first read about this, I thought "Mmm. A musician with a little class." Then I heard all the stories about people being treated like dirt for the priviledge of buying his wine. Why not just be nice and have a little fun with your fans? He is not a real vintaculturist. This guy's a "TOOL!" hahahahahaha

Good line, MsG. And here's the thing about these autograph scenarios. They try to say stuff like "If he signs CDs, he'll be there all day." Well, at ComicCon (I was only there writing a story for another publication)...Tori Amos said she'd only sign her new book. Yet, when people had other stuff, she'd sign it, and it would take an additional 10 seconds. So, unless someone approached him with 20 CDs and 20 8 x 10 photos, he should just sign the other item they had.

I think I mentioned once that I saw them live at Iguana's down in TJ with The Rollins Band. Another free ticket scenario. Do you remember that place? Lots of great bands played there, and some had to because back then if you were too controversial you could not get a gig in a San Diego venue. The most disgusting public restroom I had ever seen in my life. The female fans were pigs!! Why the woman in line was crying and carrying on defies imagination, because even back then before they became popular I thought "these guys are a joke." Apparently, they have a rabid fan base. I loved Henry Rollins, though.

It's not clear to me what the antecedent of "it" is in Fumbler's question. Anybody?

russl, ISBB

"And now, will you welcome, Josh Board and the Braindead Blowhards!!!"

GREAT! You hear that, Fred? We're BOTH bile-infested blow-hards!!!

Russl,

There's only one way to become bile infected, my friend. Someone has to puke on you.

I got infected when Fumber drank a bottle of his mother's Maynard's Premium Arizona Rattlesnake Swill Chardonnay. He stole it from her knick knack shelf where it sat, prominently autographed by the Tool frontman himself, next to her large collection of Santorum memorabilia.

Anyway, Fumber waited until his mom had gone to bible study, and he snatched her bottle, chugged it all down. Within half an hour he thought he would die. As a last resort, he called his only friend in the world.

Me.

Being the forgiving and generous guy I am, I dashed over to his little room in the basement of his mom's home, and found him slumped amidst the pizza boxes.

Fumber had spewed vomit all over his keyboard.

I pulled him outside so he might get a bit of air that wasn't befouled by the stench of old sneakers and yellowed crusty sheets, and in the process I think a small amount of his bile might have got into an open wound.

Even the open air didn't stop him from chocking and sputtering, and laying on his back in the dead weeds of his mom's front lawn, he stopped breathing.

Ice rays bounced around my stomach. Would I have to? No, I couldn't. It's just too horrible to contemplate.

But in the end, I couldn't just let this kid die, choked by his own vomit from Maynard's wine.

I pinched his nose and tilted his jaw, opening the airway. Ensuring there was a good seal, I blew hard, inflating his chest.

When I pulled away, his exhalation was strong enough to blast a buzzard off a manure truck. Gagging, I somehow managed to continue. I put the gruesome horror out of my mind, concentrating on saving Fumber's life.

He stirred, and then his eyes flickered to life. Groaning, Fumber grabbed me with his powerful fat arms, squeezing me into his man breasts, forcing my face against his ghastly stench hole. Then his slimy tongue was wiggling, probing, pushing and finally worming its way into my mouth.

I have to stop. The trauma of remembering is too much...if Fumber's mom hadn't come back and beaten Fumber off with her King James Extra Large Red Letter Illustrated Edition with Concordance, I don't know if I would have survived Fumber's groping attack.

That's how I came to be a bile infected blow hard. Signed by a Celebrity Souvenir Swill thrown up by Fumber which forced me to reluctantly resuscitate him, thereby ruining my life forever.

Russl, how did you get infected?

OH, well then, Fumber I take it all back.

I didn't realize.

I had mistakenly thought you were referring to how I'm a vomit INFECTED blow hard, not how I'm an inane bloated vomit CAKED blow hard. I thought I was invested rather than infested which infected my thinking and affected my effective invective.

I sincerely regret my error and apologize for any misunderstanding.

Best,

Fred "Inane Bloated Vomit Caked (Infested) Blow Hard" Williams

Damn you, Williams!! Damn you! Best laugh I've had in months!!! Simply brilliant.Pass the wine?

Oh, you ARE the quickie, eh? Took you six months to figure that one out, Mr. Emphasis on "um".

Another pompous rock star jerk! But I don't know why anyone would expect anything different... Tool has been crapping on their fans for years...

Hey Maynard... those people aren't standing in line for your crappy wine... so own up to it.. or go back to Arizona where you belong..

Those people should remember that kind of treatment the next time a Tool (or lame side project from Maynard)CD comes out..DON'T BUY IT!