As I write this biography, which is really an autobiography now that I think about it. And it is good that I think about it otherwise this could degenerate into mindless drivel lsa;jdf''''asdf.

But I digress.

What I mean to say is that as I write this, I am forced to think of two of the world's best autobiographies: Cash on Cash, by Johnny Cash and Yes I Can by Sammy Davis Jr.

The first title, Cash on Cash was hyped as the Best Autobiography Ever by John Cusack in the movie High Fidelity.

High Fidelity was based on the book of the same name, written by Nick Hornby. This book is a favourite of mine, and I have read and reread it numerous times. Part of what I like about this book is that it is about music, moreover, it is about a guy who has the most outrageously trivial knowledge about music.

I can identify.

Another favourite book of mine is Glimpses by Lewis Shiner. Once again, the book is about music. It is about all of the great music that never happened.

Never realized albums including The Doors Celebration of The Lizard, Brian Wilson's Smile (yeah, I know that it was the Beach Boys, but let's face it, Brian was the real talent, none of the others had a clue what he was doing) were created in this book. The main character envisions these songs as they should have been, and they appear on tape. The first song he tried this with was The Long And Winding Road, by the Beatles. I know what you're thinking,

"But Paul, the Beatles DID record The Long and Winding Road! You crazy Pie Eating Mofo!"

"Yes, they did," say I, "but imagine if they had written it together and applied some of that Lennon McCartney magic to it. Lennon always needed the polish of McCartney and McCartney always needed that Lennon Rasp."

I mean really, compare "You Won't See Me" from Rubber Soul, to "Ebony and Ivory" and you tell me where the attitude went.

You'll see that earlier, I (actually, you, if you observe the context) referred to myself as a Pie Eating Mofo. You may wonder where I would get such a name.

A couple of years ago, Bill had a dream. He dreamed that we were out at a restaurant having beer and wings, and the waitress was hitting on him. She was all over him, right there at the table. Just as she was about to close the transaction, if you know what I mean, I tapped her on the shoulder and said

"Excuse me, can I have some pie?"

Double entendres aside, I was now known as the Pie Eating Mofo. Bill called me this for weeks before telling me the secret of the name. So now you know.