Dear Viking on ESPN

After dealing with insomina, I happened to witness a brief glimpse of how great television can be...

It was the spinning propeller that really did it for me. I couldn't deny the other towering structures designed and manufactured to test the limits of the human body, the math-game waterdump, the lightbulb hand-over-hand cross...

I still can't cope with the shock you delivered to my system.


Fergis T. McGillicuddy

To the Garageband-Curious

Garageband seems good at first.

I took my laptop out of the box and there Garageband was…

“Wow, this thing has got everything…exotic drum beats, lazy acoustic samples, sinister synth tones. This is great,” I thought to myself. “I’ll be pumping out great recordings in a matter of weeks.”

It started innocently enough. The recordings were unlistenable to the ear.

“The magic will happen later,” I would say to myself when my guitar and voice recorded with a built-in mic wouldn’t sound natural against the slick, scientifically-engineered marimba samples.

So I bought a decent mic…

However, before you can interface an XLR input with a computer you need to be a MIDI interface. So I did.

The recordings still sounded ridiculous…so I bought a better acoustic guitar, a fancy pants MIDI controller even a low-grade Swedish home organ. The guitar signal needed to be directly injected into the interface to sound better, so I got a preamp.

Later that month, my credit card bill arrived in two envelopes.

In order to pay my mounting debts I quit my job and started writing music full-time…

That was 14 months ago. A brutal downward spiral followed involving drug-trafficking guitar players, drummers that won’t leave your couch for anything less than 12 beers, vague, shameful memories of college residence party and not a single decent song. Grim, grim things.

Everything has been sold to pay the creditors to avoid lengthy legal proceedings.

Garageband ruins lives! If you want some good advice, give music up in favour of chemical engineering or lion taming, endevours that likely won’t result in bitter disappointment and regret.


Fergis T. McGillicuddy

Venus Fly Traps

They don’t need food to live, which is disappointing. I’ve read that the temptation to feed them ground beef must be avoided. It rots them. Even using your finger to make them close is taboo. They must be respected.

I’m rotting a piece of banana in some Tupperware beside their potted home. The flies will come eventually. Then the Venuses will feast.

To the Mysterious Benefactor Dr. Ben Nnacheta and his Assistant

I understand that you’d like to give me the sum of 850,000 pounds for simply e-mailing your assistant, Mr. Justin Michaels, at

I have some hang-ups over the proposition.

First, you wrote, “I did not forget your past efforts and attempts to assist me in that process despite that it failed us at that time.”

I certainly don’t remember assisting you in any process, Dr. Ben Nnacheta, despite your assertions that I have. Is it possible that my good friend Johan has changed his name and acquired a doctorate in my absence?

Second, your assistant Mr. Justin Michaels is using an e-mail provider I’ve never heard of. Why doesn’t he use something like hotmail or gmail? I’m not sure how reliable latinmail is. I wouldn’t want my reply to be missed.

Finally, as a writer I’m independently wealthy beyond your greatest dreams, so Dr. Nnacheta, if that is your real name, you can keep your money, as it will help you more than me.


Fergis T. McGillicuddy

PS: Johan, I’m on to you.

The Terrible Wizard

New looks! And a story!

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful kingdom filled with gorgeous young women and strong young men. There was old people and children too. Everybody had plenty to eat and were healthy as a result.

One day, a scourge of rodents invaded the town and ate all the wheat in the fields and all the wheat in the storage rooms.

The king couldn’t be without food for the people, so he summoned up the court’s wizard. The wizard was named Net Wait. He wore a brown cloak.

The king ordered the wizard to make the rats disappear, so the people would have plenty to eat again.

So the wizard did. The king was pleased .

The wizard made the townspeople eat the rats.

To the Asshole that Peed on My Car

I was headed to the fridge for a little late night snack when I walked past my window and saw you relieving yourself on my vehicle last night. You and you’re friends thought it was pretty funny.

Let me be the first to tell you that my turn-of-the-century Pontiac Grand Prix has a bad ass voodoo hex on it. Soon all your luck will turn for the worst. Your girlfriend will breakup with you, dumping your ass for somebody that doesn’t piss on cars, making you homeless in the process. You’ll start taking pills and drinking too much. You’ll lose your job and all your friends. You’ll be all alone in a very big and very terrifying world. You’ll eventually stab yourself in the eye with a shard of a bottle of Baby Duck and bleed to death underneath a dumpster. But not before you shrink to the size of a chronically ill cancer patient. Other homeless people and passing college kids will relieve themselves on you like you relieved yourself on my automobile.

You can look forward to a brief existence full of disappointment, shame and anguish.


Fergis T. McGillicuddy

PS: It was actually me that peed on the Grand Prix…I’m really sorry. Please don’t curse me.

To Paris Hilton’s Liver

I know what you must be thinking, ‘Why Me?’

Well it’s your lucky week, because now that Paris has been caught downing margarita’s and climbing behind the wheel of her Mercedes-Benz, she probably will take it easy for awhile.

Moreover, the booze is probably the least of your worries. It will be the endless parade of multi-coloured pharmaceuticals that marches into her body that will shrivel you into a piece of tough shoe leather. The daily paxil/percocet breakfast combo coupled with the mid-afternoon coccaine/lorazepam snacks will surely do a number on you in a few years.

I’m afraid that once you give on her, she’ll have no choice but to give up on you. Once you cease filtering the bad stuff out, Paris will be on a first class plane to Indonesia for a little transplant tourism. She’ll find another liver. All it takes is a roofie and a greedy surgeon with quick hands and you’re a distant memory. Them’s the breaks when your living in the Hollywood fastlane. There have been far greater casualties, believe me.

Hey, if you want to go for a drink I’m up for it…oh, sorry.


Fergis T. McGillicuddy

To YouTube Celebrity Death Tribute Videos

Crikey! When you’re making an homage of a television person’s life by taking a number of googled images and setting them to cheesy music, please pay attention to image resolution.

You’d think if somebody was that important to you, you would use high-res pictures that show them as people, not a jagged, ground-up, digital soup that could arguably represent shaky blobs of colour rather than a crocodile hunter.


Fergis. T McGillicuddy