A Letter To Billy Corgan
Dear Billy Corgan,
Let me just start by saying that bald is (and has always been) the new pony tail. It’s a killer look, especially for you. So I hear you’re looking for a new drummer. Must be tough! Well how about some good news Mr. Melancholy? I’m not going to ask you to step off your high horse and extend the equestrian invitation to join your band. This is me swallowing, no, choking down my pride, to tender your offer to be the newest drummer of the Smashing Pumpkins! And I can shout with the utmost of confidence that today is in fact the greatest day, you and I have ever known.
You’re probably curious as to what drummers I worship and just for how long has my affair with the high hat gone on. My biggest influence is Meg White of the White Stripes. Her beats give new meaning to the word innovative. I started playing drums way back in the summer of 2006. I’ve been domineering the Philadelphia Bar Mitzvah scene ever since. Usually the set consists solely of a 25 minute version of the classic “Earth Angel”. Not that I wouldn’t love to give those Jews a little taste of rock n’ roll!
I take lessons from Neil Peart of Rush twice a week. That’s right; Neil fucking Peart. Neil is so patient and dedicated to my success. Every time we tackle a new technique, he reminds me that if he is going too fast, I can always hit the scene selection on the DVD remote and repeat the lesson. Occasionally I skip my Neil Peart DVD lessons if something else (drinking, basketball, hate crimes, checkers, naps, orgies, fishing) comes up. Also, sometimes when my friends and I get drunk, I set my Casio keyboard to create drum sounds. Everyone agrees that I’m the best Casio drummer on my block. Does the word “overqualified” mean anything to you?
There are just a couple of stipulations that need to be made upon my entry into the Pumpkins. First, all rehearsals must take place at my house. I mean who ever heard of transporting a drum set? And while more people might recognize your face more than mine, I have roots (an eight year old Brazilian kid that sells me the cheapest dankest weed ever) in the South Philadelphia community that I am not willing to severe. Also, you need to start wearing camouflage all the time. We all do. Everybody cool wears the colors of the jungle and I refuse to be in a band that dresses like a group of middle-aged undertakers. Next, our tour bus must be shaped like a pirate ship. Together we will tour the high seas of the U.S.A. Devoted fans walk the plank which means after we sign some boobs, chicks can jump off the roof of our van into a moon bounce! And last but not least, we need to change the name of the band to Chachi and the Cameltoes. A new name for a new band! Plus Smashing Pumpkins just makes people crave unhealthy amounts of pie. Alright brother, let’s get this show on the road.
TTYS!
-His Chachness
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