Fayner Posts: Saturday night after my dinner with the family (my family, not members of some organized crime outfit) I stopped by my neighbors Don and Yami’s house. He owns Atlas Multimedia. He is swell. He was drunk. I can’t say anything about Yami, good or bad, in fear of being hurt.

Okay, fine, Yami is super cool. If she talked Don into building a huge Olympic-style pool for me and my dogs to use whenever we so desire she’s be bumped up to super-duper cool status.

And that, my friends and enemies, is the story about Pat Myne’s 15 minutes of fame!

Oh, shit, no it’s not. I still have lots to write here. Damn! Crap! Dagnabit!

So I run into Pat Myne. He’s always glad to see me. Although a rare thing, I must say it feels good when people welcome you.

Somehow we got to talking about punk music. Pat was a young teenager during the early 80s when he says punk music ruled his life.

"One night I was drunk in the back of a pickup truck outside Okie Dog on Santa Monica. Someone woke me up and said, "Some famous guy, Andy Something, is taking pictures of people over there. Get up!"

"Warhol?" I asked Bart.

"Yep," he replied.

"Did you blow him?"


"Okay. Please continue."

"So Warhol started taking pictures of everyone."

"Was that when you blew him?"

"You’re lucky I like you, Fayner. So a few months later there’s a photo layout by Warhol in Rolling Stone and he used one of me. A whole fucking page of just me!"

"You definetely blew him after that!"

Pat’s fiance, Alektra Blue, joins the conversation just in time to save my hide from being skinned. Actually, come to think of it I tower over Pat, and that combined with my constantly numbness makes me think I could have taken him in a fight, which means Alektra saved his hide from being skinned…

"What you guys talking about?" she asked.

"Nothing you’d know about," we both said jokingly, only I wasn’t.

"This one time I met a chick and told her about the Warhol photo and she didn’t believe me. I made a bet with her, said if I was lying I’d give her some money and if I was telling the truth I got to fuck her. We went back to my place and I showed her."

"Did you fuck her?" I asked.

"I went out with her for a couple of months."

"But did you fuck her?"


"But the real question is did you fuck her while blowing Warhol?"

"This interview is over."

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