Zero Hour Part 1

It's November 22, 2005, at the "Zero Hour Event" for the release of the Xbox 360. I'm on the main stage--facing forward, my face blank, my arms at my side. As I stare into the end of the largest camera crane of the many that are craning around. The words "..10 million viewers worldwide..." ring in my ears(even though I was pretty damn sure that part of it was bullshiat my "people handlers" told me to have me act a certain way). On my far right, out of the corner of my eye I could still see one of these handlers flashing a plastic smile as if he were required by law to constantly communicate in some way "this is great stuff--you guys are great--bottled water?-- seriously, good going guys." On my far left were Tommy the Clown and his team of hip hop clowns. A fraction of those clowns look upon me disapprovingly, in a decidedly unclownlike manner. It has to do with what's happening on my immediate right, my most immediate right. There, my best friend's pelvis is grinding purposefully against my corduroys. Though I could not see them, I imagine the small group of hip-hop clowns assigned to Mike looked much happier--though every bit as ridiculous. After his clutch rhythmic-worm-to-friend-hump combo innovation, it was no secret to anybody that Mike's dance was going to be a hard to beat. Nevertheless, I was mentally preparing for my response. I was going to follow the clowns' hastily given advice to the best of my abilities. Yes, In a few short moments I was going to "just be show stoppa, and just don't stop." But how did I get here friends? ... That was not a completely rhetorical question. But I know no one is going to answer it, and so I'll try my best. A story like this will have to be told in parts.

Somehow, I found a zen-like peace in this moment which by all rights should have been dominated by the slo-mo gyration of Mike's genitals. In the back I could see Louis XIV's roadies angrily humping their gear through the unresponsive crowd. Friggin Louis XIV. Nobody in this Xbox crowd is going to laugh at your "playing too much Mario" joke. In fact, I'd become unsettled each time they voiced their "fuck this thing, who wants to hear some music" attitude.

was half scared Peter Moore had snipers stationed on the roof for such occurrences.