And here I sit, another stupid bastard waiting for the sun to come up. It's not quite light yet and I can feel the day looming over me, taunting and menacing. I wonder aloud, what does this bastard want? It's a simple question, it wants what every day wants, your blood, your energy, your soul...

As Grand Wizard of Propaganda at Defining Moment, I feel it's my job to mold the minds of my readers to my stilted worldview and create something vaguely resembling reality. It is also my job to hold the staff meetings...

It's 6:30 AM on a Saturday and my head still hurts from the night before. Last night was the first Defining Moment staff meeting and a chance for us all to get online and jacked up for the future of this magazine. I had a feeling earlier that night, there were bad omens in the air, a slow grinding menace of what could come. I bought a bottle of Jack Daniels for back up... in case things got ugly.

The staff started rolling into the meeting around 7:30. I eyed them cautiously, knowing that one wrong move could spell disaster for me. I had an agenda that evening, and it was you my dear reader. The quality of this website you are now reading is of the utmost importance to me, and I'm not about to let a few drunken animals stand in our way.

The original meeting was scheduled for the Stroker Roadhouse, an oddly homoerotic sounding biker bar. The type of place you have to worry about getting pistol whipped when using the glory hole. Fat, hairy bikers convene there and discuss duvets over cosmopolitans on ice as Streisand blasts in the background. The sort of surreal daydream you just cannot wake up from.

Feet got cold and money got tight, so the meeting was moved to my private bar/sanctuary, the O Bar. "I must have been out of my mind to let these degenerates in here", I softly muttered to myself as they filed in. Their soiled clothes and unkept, matted hair was my first indication that this was no ordinary staff meeting. This was Defining Moment and everything that touches this website takes an odd turn.

I started off the meeting with a few one liners and we were off. The focus was to come up with some new article ideas. At this point the drinks were flowing, I glanced at my co-editor as he drained his fifth vodka tonic and we both knew we had to do something to keep this pack of mad dogs in line. I asked my beautiful girlfriend, Jen, for another drink as she eyed the room uneasily. I was going to need one to get through this in one piece.

After an hour long discussion on the subtleties of why beer shits and fucking young foreign boys were bad article topics, I realized something. Something important, for all their madness and strange ways, this was a gifted staff

As I took the last gulp from my now empty bottle of Jack Daniels, and slowly blacked out, a thought hit me. We had just assembled a crack squad of madmen, degenerates with no place in society, a psychologist's wet dream, and these are the people that will be churning article after article out on this site. Get ready for Defining Moment.
God help us all.

Onward and upward,
Jonny O
Editor-in-chief / Grand Wizard of Propaganda
April 9, 2005