So I’m bouncing around Myspace the other day, not looking for anything in particular. I only have like 20 “friends”, at least one of which is an Italian death-metal band who asked for an add seconds after I signed up. And I got the brilliant idea to search for myself in the friend finder and make sure all the folks desperately seeking my approval of their groundbreaking new band can get a hold of me. Of course, my page isn’t listed under my own name, it’s under the pseudonym I made up for work when I write something for one reason or another I don’t wanna actually sign, which is “Marshal Stack.” So basically if anybody ever did wanna find me they couldn’t, but I’m so witty that I don’t need friends. They’d never appreciate my droll aphorisms have as much as I do anyways.

I thought I was being all Samuel Clemens brilliant, but as I searched I found there was is another guy in Woodinville, Washington with the same name on Myspace, which just ruins it. He’s 49, divorced, his heroes are “People who defy corrupt oligarchic government and resist corporate rule,” oh yeah, and supposedly he’s one of the Seattle-area’s most successful erotic photographers and producers of adult videos. Still the Porn Marshall spells it without the space, “MarshallStack,” so that leads me to believe i was first. Now he’s got marshallstack.com, where he markets his wares, but I have myspace.com/marshalstack and blog.myspace.com/marshalstack.

I assume this works like Highlander and eventually one of us will have to kill the other, but in the meantime if you wanna get your CD reviewed, come to me. If you’re haunted by a terrible abusive childhood and wanna make daddy pay so bad, go see him. Wait, no — still come see me.

If you make amps, well good for you and your fax-sending lawyers!