HOME: The shelf underneath the Thorazine in mental institutions, concert arenas, television programs, AM radio stations, corner bar jukeboxes, turntables of mobile home stereos, and various military installations throughout the free world.

AGE: 200 years young.

PROFESSION: Encouraging egregious egocentric escapism through perspicuous pervasion of a pestilent pride in pap.

HOBBIES: Bursting bombs in the air, watching the rocket's red glare; turning snuff movies, napalmed children, and sanctioned malnutrition into a pallid easy-listening good time.

LAST BOOK READ: The Pure Joy of Making More Money by Donald M. Dible.

LAST ACCOMPLISHMENT: Selling six separate albums after surviving a near fatal crash between a Greyhound and a horse with no name on the Ventura Highway.

QUOTE: "What's good for America is good for America."

PROFILE: Sweet as sugar drop candy, hot fudge sundaes and tollhouse cookies without the gastric invagination. The epitome of disguised effusion. Fuzzy, flaccid endamoebae of gargantuan proportions which represent the high point of dispassionate bicentennial emotion.

BEER: Boy Howdy!