If There's One Thing You Know It's That I'd Never Fucking Lie To You.

Here's the plan: I don't care if you're 15 or 90 if you've never listened to this. Fire up your i-whatever-the-fuck-you-have. Artist: Rufus Wainwright. Song: "Poses".

Trust me. It only costs a dollar.

Fucking guy.

Now off it's time for me to go open a large can of Get Down on the Soulfinger Ski Resort Tour '06.

When you're nestled in your beds give a thought for me sweating and blowing the middle eight of "Who's Making Love?" against the back wall at Killington. It's wearying, man. The late nights. The endless nights. Of Soulfinger. Ah, the cold backstage. The greasepaint. Your 41 year old ass staring back at you from that mirror. And then...the roar. It starts distant, faint and vaguely menacing and builds to an adrenalin-pumping crescendo.

No it doesn't. I made that up. I wanted to end that by having it be some dumb sound like the heater kicking on but I already said the backstage was cold so I couldn't make 'er fly.

Everything I do I do so it will look cool in the movie about me, but there'll never be a movie.

That's so beautiful. When you die you'll fly through a huge open window into heaven. Like a god damn Wyeth painting but better.

Because you're coming while you do it.

If there's one thing you know it's that I'd never fucking lie to you. I love you too much.