Blindsided By His Own Commitment To Trade With Kevin Bradford, Mr. Giesecke Makes Amends By Fielding Questions From His 3rd Grade Picture, Mr. Doofus

How for did you get to play the guitar for the PAVE-y thing?

Answer: The sheer hand of Providence, I guess. I think I’ve been fortunate to enjoy a windfall in Pentecost that doesn’t exist in the world: A shortage of guitar players. Being that the Fender Stratocaster is just now shedding its direct, mental association with mindless, procreative fornication at Woodstock, I’m grateful that my skills are already developed to fill positions like this. Plus, this insubordinate thatch of white hair on my 40-year-old head makes me look eccentric and artsy, despite my complete lack of artistic caliber.

Why for did you buy a pennywhistle and try to learn it a lot by blowing?

Answer: Because I just attended a concert by Bela Fleck and the Flecktones. With the one exception that I once owned a saxophone, I’d never been drawn to wind instruments much. Then I saw Jeff Coffin--the prodigious sax player-and generally virtuosic wind-section guy playing a high-d whistle. I thought it was cool. So I bought one for eight bucks on EBay this week. And now, my street cred has gone up markedly since I learned to play the piped intro to the Titanic theme song by Celine Dion.



What for is that stuff dripping out the end of your whistle-flute?

Answer: Saliva. I’m trying to figure out how to turn that little phenomenon from grotesque collateral damage into sincere theatrical value. Right now, my extended play on the thing makes me look like one of those vintage, PenZoil puncture-funnels with no perceived recipient.

Why for did you by a violin on CraigList for $50?

Answer: Because I’ve always known I could instantly play Paganini’s Caprice No. 5 with zero mistakes the minute I picked up the instrument. Oh, and also because the entire setup would have cost me seven-hundred dollars more, had I not found it there.



Why for do you not like the hip-hop and the rappy stuff?

Answer: Because I’ve never felt that “hip-hop,” as it were, could ever absolve itself of the chronic narcissism required to make itself palatable for gospel music. If the musical protagonist had no burning need to incessantly inform you that he or she was “in the house,” then there would be no need to point at oneself repeatedly while smirking a lot, either. Besides, I’ve always had trouble envisioning Jesus, asking the disciples to “wave their hands in the air” and to furthermore wave them “like they just don’t care.”



Why for you ask me to do this for you?

Answer: I have no idea. Maybe I have a latent need to vet one of the more ridiculous, iconic avatars that has marred my self esteem the minute my father laughed at me.