February 1998


It's been a while. I've been delinquent. Delinquency's my bag. Ask anyone. I've got the Welcome Back Carter Theme running through my head. How's yours been? Speaking of heads, my mother cracked mine open when I was 16 months old. 24 stitches. You can still see the scar. She was running down the hallway of our old house trying to answer the phone. She had me in her arms. My head slumped back and hit the brick corner of the kitchen wall. Part of my brain fell out and the dog ate it. And that, my friends, is how I got my super powers.

Now, don't get me wrong, having super powers at such a young age can be just as much a nightmare than a blessing. The first drawback I discovered was the dog itself. The dog and I were 'linked', you might say, because of the fact that it had eaten part of my brain. Therefore, I would have to keep track of it. On the other hand, for fun I would make the dog fly around the room, or instantaneously teleport it on to the roof so my parents would freak out. Not unlike The Beastmaster, I could also see through the dog's eyes. This also bothered people that came over to our house. Our dog would sit there intently starring at them for hours, never moving. I, on the other hand, would just sit in my room and watch them watching the dog. The downside of these powers were the intense headaches I would get after using them. But, then again, who's really going to tell their neurologist that the reason blood is coming out of your 6 year olds ears and nose is because he has some super power connection with the family dog. It's safe to say that on several occasions my mother barely escaped spending the rest of her life in an asylum.

As the years past, my link powers with the dog grew stronger. I began to resent the dog slightly as well, as I felt cheated by the fact that she was a terrier and not something menacing like a German Shepherd or a Doberman. There's nothing more terrifying that seeing a twelve pound ball of scraggly white and brown fur flying at you from out of nowhere. (despite what Monty Python might lead you to believe). Even worse, I think it scared the dog more than any of my victims. By this time it wasn't much fun teleporting the dog onto the roof or making it fly around the room. Her eyes were also starting to cloud over, no doubt due to her advancing years. But, as I was to discover, not all my powers had revealed themselves to me. On my 12th birthday I discovered that I could hear using the dog's ears. Quite satisfied that I would never have to attend school again for the rest of my life, I began to grow my hair out and decided to live in the forest.

It's safe to say that I got into a lot of trouble during those years. There wasn't anything said about me that I didn't know. With my secret weapon, I became a shadowy figure sought after like some ancient oracle by the kids of my neighborhood. Some people even doubted my existence, claiming that it was all a hoax. But that didn't stop the never ending numbers of pilgrims that sought me in my forest sanctuary. Like Mecca, they would comb the woods during the summer months, bringing me gifts of Cool Aid and Grape Hubba Bubba. Life was indeed all that I had dared to dream it would be.

I spent the better part of a decade living deep within the confines of the woods. I created an elaborate series of treetop dwellings modeled after the Swiss Family Robinson tree at Disneyland. Complex water pumps, folding staircases, and bamboo heating ducts were among several of my greatest accomplishments. The animals of the forest also came to know me and eventually proclaimed me the supreme emperor of their woodland domain. But, by the age of 19, I knew that my time in the forest was coming to an end. One stormy night, following one of the most violent thunder and lighting events in B.C. history, my faithful super companion fell off of one of the high rope bridges connecting two of my various huts and plummeted to her death. After spending her whole life flying around I'm sure she felt quite cheated by the fact that she couldn't actually do it herself. That's gotta be a bitch.

After finding the dog, I buried her remains and spent the better part of a week rigging my forest palace to self-destruct after my departure. And then, after bidding farewell to my animal subjects, I left the woods never to return. After that I pretty much just started a band and, well, here I am.

Your Questions, My Excuses: Dail 1-900-Idiot Savant

1] As promised, it seems there will be an all-ages extravaganza held sometime in the spring. (Perhaps in a suburb). Where and when I cannot say, of course.

2] We'd like to say hey to all our American supporters that have sent us mail. It'll be out as soon as humanly possible, to answer your questions. Thanks also to Steve Ross in Atlanta for your efforts.

3] This response is for Gerhard. No, art's not a new thing, it's an old thing. Actually I spent a lot of my time painting when I lived in the forest. But after leaving I decided that the art world was too fickle and sought a career in music instead. I haven't painted since I left, but I hear there's some pieces floating around out there. Ask the animals, they might know.

4] To Rachelle. Yes, we do read all of the e-mails. Hey to everyone else that wanted a hey.

5] Am I a terrorist? That's a good question.

6] To Cassandra Carvell and her fan club in the UK. Thanks for the e-mail. Hopefully we'll get the chance to get over there after the summer.

7] As usual, the diligent Lenny has got some more spare time on his hands. So he's decided to start a fanzine. Anyone interested in the fanzine should wander over to Lenny's site at:

8] To answer another commonly asked question, yes we are aquatinted with the lads from AOE. We got Tod to sing back-up vocals on those songs because I couldn't sing that high and Tod's the only person we know that can. Listen real close, you'll hear him.

9] Will I drink vodka out of your belly button? Hmm?

10] Lastly, this is in response to an e-mail sent to us by Karim Davis of Ottawa. To answer your question NO, we are not racists. Just because our bass player is bald doesn't mean he's some kind of Neo-Nazi type. He was quite offended, as was I, to hear that someone would actually think that of this band. I really don't know what to say, it makes me fucking irate to be quite honest with you. Obviously someone out there needs to give their head a shake.

Questions Answered: Dial 1 900 Idiot Savant