One of my most popular party stories ends with Devin Townsend materializing (ha get it, above) in front of me on a sidewalk in stupid Chicago one evening. We lamewads had failed on the show, missing Strapping Young Lad's piddly 25-minute set except for cymbals and "Thankyougoodnightfuckerz!" followed by Hoglan's ass receding into the darkness. Then came I think Dark Wanquility and definitely In Flames, which pushed us right back out the front doors like in a sketch from The Muppet Show. Pissed, we piled back into the car; at the first stoplight, I looked to my right to see Townsend with hands in pockets, alone at the corner. I heard three effeminate gasps in the car when I shrieked "Devin! What the fuck we missed the shit it's like 5:45 pm traffic was fucked why so early what the fuuuck??!?" He shrugged but also smiled cuz my expression must've been retarded and I look cartoonish with my eyebrows raised and palms upturned. Bubbles hissed "Don't yell at him about it, dude" which got an honest laugh. Good thing Townsend didn't know that the semi-retard before him was entrusted with the task of writing about his records (his website once pulled a quote of mine super bonerz!). The light turned green and I just waved and waved and waved, kinda in the style of Coop in Wet Hot American Summer. Then it hit me: Fuck! We should've kidnapped him! Shit! Four of us! One of him! Already in the getaway vehicle! Shit!
There you have it folks. Take your eye off the ball for a split second and you too will miss the chance to enslave Devin Townsend, to harness his powers for evil, to compel him to stage private concerts on your balcony and and AND to produce your all guitar solo album (no backing tracks, literally solo guitar just soloing). Or to starve him brutally until he agrees to recast Hysteria in his own mould, title it Addicted, and release it on November 17. OK he ended up doing that anyway. Lucky for him!
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