The oldest and the most sophisticated of the group, I am of noble birth, with a blood line running back to Ivan the Perplexed, a little known Tsar of Russia in the 16th Century (whom many believe was instrumental in creating the alternative spelling of “Czar”). For reasons unexplained, my Mother continues to deny any such lineage and her response to my plea for validation of my ancestry is usually: “Give it a rest.” Nonetheless, the blue blood running through my veins has provided me with an insight into the nature of man that others cannot comprehend. It may also explain why my skin is so pale.

     I have tried my hand at various vocations in an attempt to find that one special purpose in my life. Like many of you, I tried the whole superhero thing several times with no success. I hated the costume changes, the hours were miserable and most of my super powers did not lend themselves very well to combating crime. (Some of my failed superhero identities included: “ProcrastinationMan,” “TriviaMan” and “WearMyInsecuritiesOnMySleeveMan.”) So after abandoning these attempts I began looking for a real profession. Not able to find one, I became a lawyer.

     Law school is where I met Paul. We were classmates and became quick friends. Mark and I went to middle school together but I do not believe we knew each other. (I do, however, remember throwing spoiled fruit at a trumpet player in the school’s stage band. I doubt it was Mark as this trumpet player did not have silver hair.) As for Tim, I have yet to meet him but have heard from both Mark and Paul that he is “quite a fellow.” I am looking forward to the day that his keyboards are positioned closer to my drum set and we can be formally introduced.

     I started playing drums around age thirteen. So much fun! What a rush! What I lacked in skill I attempted to mask with volume. My parents could barely tolerate the F15-like noise levels from the various garage band sessions that went on in our basement. (My brother played many instruments, including a bass guitar that would vibrate nails out of drywall.) After some threats of torching my drum set, my parents and I came to a compromise in which I set up and practiced my drums in a large, basement storage closet. The drums were not permitted to leave the closet. For some unexplained reason, I too was not permitted to leave the closet. 

     I joined Flaming Pie after being a fan of the band for many years. When Paul asked me to join, it was already known that I wanted to be a member of the band. The only issue to resolve was my compensation. With Paul's and Mark's astute legal minds and Tim's knowledge of high finance doing battle with my razor sharp negotiating skills, I wondered if we would ever come to an agreement. Happily, we worked out the compensation issue and I don’t mind bragging that I am paying the band a whole lot less than what I was willing to cough up.