OK man, just sit down and shut up a minute. No, really, shh. I'ma tell you something about DoC. Aged in wood barrels in Atlanta, then lovingly bottled and shipped to Hollywood. Maintained through rigorously disciplined consumption of whiskey, coffee, and cigarettes.
Here's the thing. DoC has heard it before, seen it before. Only about a thousand times or more. So just zip it and let them tell you what they know about it.
It's not true what they whisper, that there's a sensitive side to DoC. They got chromeplated hearts wrapped in cheetah skin tied with a barb wire bow. Okay, so maybe there's a squishy red velvet center. Is it a crime to have been vulnerable once in a while?
If you say bad things about Gram Parsons, AC/DC or Barbara Mandrell, DoC is likely to bloody your nose.
So don't say you didn't get a warning. They might feel bad about it though, maybe buy you a shot and a beer by way of apology.
You know what I heard? I heard that DoC is saving up to buy their own bus painted with a glorious Technicolor sunset behind a great big fuckin' eagle head, man. And that eagle has one sparkly tear in his eye. Oh hell yeah.
Lester VanSoused
Fall, 2006
