Lost Plot Interview with Word...Life, Son
Goodwill Hunter Takes us on another psychotropic odyssey with your man Atarilogic:
You asked me for an article on whatever I wanted to write about and since you don’t pay I figured that gives me carte blanche. I started out tonight on an incoherent bitch about the record business… I was looking at the jacket copy of the “Watch the Throne” album…
Suddenly, the second worst sound in the world came from the corner of what one might traditionally call “the living room.” The television, a serviceable couch and my Selectric typewriter ensure that the last thing going on in this room is “living.” But enough about that mess. This wretched sound was the goddamn Mojo machine I had long since abandoned. Nobody communicates via facsimile in this day and age, and if they did, I sure as hell wouldn’t be able to decipher their out-of-practice manuscript.
“Who the fuck got this number? Has the Badmin gone mad? Is this some sort of a sick joke?” All of these questions (and a plethora more) raced through my still-inebriated membrane. “Too many cot-damn Stolis! The Russians are fucking with us again!” my pretzel-logic suggests. As I reach for the Mojo Wire, I see only one sheet...
