From: he sure is tricky for being such a pleasant fellow
adsl-69-154-240-238.dsl.snantx.swbell.net infomania

man, you sure can't put anything past that boy... HE's WAY too on top of what's happenin', you'll try and get the drop on him, instead, he makes a wager with some fellow sound mixer guy (you know how smart they are) and before any of us can even blink an eye, he done EXPOSED our asses as idiots! DAMN! that's the "gotcha" part that really really wrankles me... and I talked to his girlfriend for over an hour... FOR FREE! I guess that means I was recording for over an hour, I must have exposed myself as an idiot about 7,000 times and didn't even know it! DAMN! I know when the San Antonio Bank Fraud Society has on o' them' thar PROMO wingdings, there's TONS and TONS of cash pouring into his pockets, well, its all part of a little wager he made with that girl's kid... "hey little boy", I bet you didn't realize your mommy could cry just as much as you do when you get a whippin'... but look! nothin' happened to her except one o' them thar "gotcha" things DAMN! I feel so exposed, don't you? and don't you worry none about Stevie Boy's mom getting hosed royally... to her... ITS WORTH IT! her son is very extraordinaire, you know... he doesn't even have to say he's sorry after deceiving her about his big "suck-cess"... you see, he's got this GENIUS partner.. the REAL talent behind the PROMO everyone is forkin' so much dough out for.... Mister Mike "BEYOND LAMERISM" Taylor... he's the dude with that GIANT fucking list of recordings on his walll. did you see that? DAMN! Imagine all those people asking him to record their music for them! Read some of them titles... man, that shit is OUT THERE! Its obvious, the cat is not only a major player in the CD production game, but he's also probably the biggest self inflated gas bag full of hot colonic wind in this whole town... Look at that fuckers HEAD! it must be 3 feet wide and 4 feet across! DAMN! there must be buckets and buckets of super brains in there... no more Ridin' The Dick of Otto's wastoid conception, he's Bobbin' For Cox now! Look at them guys bobbin'! There's something fascinating about watching Steven Earl Cureton prepare his lips with a little tiger balm, and then deftly wrap them around Bob Cox's penis like a corkscrew with rose petals and a tight, firm liplock on that great cock of renown... DAMN! look at the way he Bobs on Cox! its like his head is a Jack In Box, except its Jackin The Cox! Smooth move Stevie Boy, that looks even more skillfull than the way you kiss ass to Joe Horn, or rather USED TO... that radio payola to tha max petered out, you kniow... just like the series of groundbreaking release parties at Sam's Burger Joint... it all went south in one, long and winding load... even WINGS, the best damn cover for white collar crime the blues has ever seen in this town has quit flappin'... I guess with Robbie G reaching immortal status like Dimebag Darrell, ol' Cokebag Stevie is the new reigning Cox Bobber! Bob Bob Bob bobob for Cox! Bob Bob Bob bobob for Cox! Bob Bob Bob bobob for Cox, those wingtips rock, and see that hair, so debonair, so Terrill Hills! not like the trailer trash pets he kills, he gets his kicks on Route 666... that's the Devil's highway where Robert Johnson made a deal with Mike Taylor to go down to the Crossroads... as in mall... some still call it Wonderland... and there, next to the VIA bus stop, you see the sacred commemorative plaque with a little brass representation of Stevie Boy's corkscrew lips... kissing mucho music biz buns and sucking the pus of a rightous, swollen goat scrotum.... mmmmm, that' the real "gotcha of all gotchas"... there's nothing left to do at this point but urge EVERYBODY with fervent intensity to BE SURE AND reread the quintessential Cureton text