Probably it’s a good thing I’ve never aspired to lead “a glittering lifestyle,” and that I actually prefer residing in downscale Bremerton to the uptown district in Seattle from which my last words in THE QUEEN IS DEAD were dispatched.

Three years ago this month I had $4,000 to my name and no job. I wrote a check to “alternative” recording artist MOMUS for a thousand dollars — as a patron for his “Stars Forever” album. I didn’t just do it for the publicity. His label was facing bankrupcy, I’m a big fan of his music, and the person suing him was the artist who recorded the first album my mom used to play on our living room console stereo.

This year I could use a little patronage myself.

Buchman has already offered his help; he’s given me permission to auction off one pair each of his USMC “tighty-whities” (briefs) and olive drab green socks, both stencilled with his name. They’re genuine. But I fear I’ve diminished their potential four figure market value.

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