Henry Charles Bukowski died, and then I was born.


And now, almost 19 years later I'm here, and with the fire of Charles Bukowski, the looks of James Dean and the heart of Mahatma Gandhi I'm gonna make love to a girl named Microsoft Word.









(Yes, I know. So annoying, right? Right? Mom, look at me! Look what I can do! Mom! Mooo-om! You're not looking!)