Bill says "Thanks, Roland!"

Let's turn on Google's Gurgle Translator, and hear from a VERY happy Bill Hoobastank.

"I jumped for joy and landed flat on my fat ass," Bill laughs, "when I got ME AT A GRAVESITE PHOTO #2001. Here I am, sitting happily, waiting for Roland to help me stand up!"

Watta photo. Bill's red-faced and giddy as always. The pudgy "over the hill" librarian was so glad to see where another star lies six feet under the hill. Bill gets SUCH a big kick out of standing next to smelly D-listers in a sweaty, crowded memorabilia convention in New Jersey, or going out to a cemetery that smells of dirt and raccoon shit to squat at a grave marker. But does he even know which "celebrity" is he saluting by having his gruesome mug near the grave marker?"

"I never heard of this guy," Bill admits. "I guess he's no McKinley Morganfield or Greg Evigan," he adds, making reference to idols of Bluesfan Steve and Creepy Paul, two fanboy collectors referenced a few days ago on this blog. "All I know about Wilson is he played on that one Boko Harum song everybody knows, "Wide Shit In the Pail" or whatever it is.

"The thing is, I got a great deal from this spindly, grubby-bearded beady-eyed aged rodent-man named Roland Queer. I think that's his name. He lives in Piss Hill, England, I think. He's a schoolmarm, but his MAIN glory is running a website for Boko Harum and his own cover band, The Pail Heads.

"His deal was that I'd pay him $5,000 and he'd fly me from New Jersey almost non-stop to Wilson's grave in Oregon. The plane would detour to let off and take on passengers here, here and here! Then we'd take a bus from the airport to a train to a bus to a hired pair of asses for the trek up a dirty brown trail to the cemetery itself.

"The price included Roland's fee for being my guide, his charge for a complete set of Pail Heads recordings, a souvenir t-shirt with Wilson's face on it, and beer. A lot of beer. The rest, the hotel, the airfare, the food...I had to pay for, but hey, I've got money to burn! And I proved it when I farted and the wallet in my back pocket caught fire.

"I sure wish either Gary Lockwood or Keir Dullea had died, so they could be my 2,001st graveyard photo, but I'll settle for this. The cemetery was so deserted I could change my nappy without people coughing and crying. Roland didn't mind at all. He's had his tongue up Barry Gooker's ass for so long, nothing bothers him."

Bill asked that the blog pass along a hearty (thanks, Roland) in italics and parenthesis on his behalf. He'd also like to thank Huelbig Airlines for losing his luggage (who needed a suitcase full of soiled cloth nappies anyway).

Bill also would like to apologize to Roland for suggesting that his client Shauna Cuntwell might open for Boko Harum on one of their infrequent performances at Butlin's. He was also willing to fly Shauna to the band's wheezing performances at the Selfoss Old Age Home in Iceland, the Grindavík Hospital for the Criminally Insane in Iceland, the Vulgar Boatman's Museum in Vogar (also Iceland) and of course, Hell, Norway.

"Roland glared at me here, here, and especially HERE," shivers Bill, "and I could see the steam rising off his beret like smoke from a burning pancake." Roland was horrified at the very idea of a young female with a shaved twat and a perky grin performing on the same stage with dignified, moribund, half-dead impotent old men with goat-hair pubes. Well, except for Dunn, who somehow went pubic-bald, but is too fat to even see his genitalia anyway.

Bill grins: "I'm so glad I got photo #2001. I was also humbled to meet a star like Roland, who knows Barry Gooker personally and fronts his own famous cover band. I may buy that pair of Winnie Whitehorn's stained knickers (arriving in a sealed container) that Roland has on eBay this week. IF she autographs it. And...oh, damn, I FORGOT to get a picture of myself with Roland. I would've paid him $20 too. Oh well, I guess I can go to the zoo, stand next to a weasel and it's the same thing."