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Craig -

I have just returned from a meeting with my new business manager Mr Chandalur Singh - and I am hopping mad. Were you aware of the fact that there has been a slight shortfall from your optimistic profit projections for the Art Crimes debacle? When Singh informed me that the tour was "coming broken", I had no fucking idea what he was trying to tell me - the guy is brilliant with numbers, he works cheap, English is not, as of this date, his thing - but as it turns out, he was right: the tour is not only broke, but, according to the latest figures, Donald and I will end up owing in excess of $700,000 each as the result of our herculean labors this spring, summer and fall. This is to me absolutely astounding, it is maddening, it is fucking unbelievable - until you take a look at the books, until you look at what was really going on. Craig - let me ask you this - were you aware of the fact that the replacement caterer on the European leg of the tour cost $162,000 for ten days worth of meals? Sure, nobody liked the original caterer, those Englishman can't cook to save their lives. And everybody loved those little pizzas and those nutsy little entrees with all the fruit and the weird sauces. And no wonder: you guys hired Wolfgang Puck to feed the band and the crew! I just wish you had mentioned this fact to Donald and me, we were eating bagels and creamcheese in our dressing rooms every night, if we had known that "Wolfie" was THE "Wolfie" we might have given the chow a try. Another thing: do you know what a McLaren M1 is? It's a car, Craig, a thinly disguised CanAm racing car - it costs about $285,000, not counting insurance, at least that's what the one that tour accountant Harry Sharpe bought costs - on the tour budget, naturally. This is a car that goes over 200 miles per hour for crissakes, it corners at 1.3 g's, which is cool - but what the hell was Harry doing with this thing? Maybe you should ask him, Craig, because when I asked him he mumbled something about staying "a few baby steps ahead of the tax collector" and scuttled out of the room in his inimitable Harryesque fashion. While you've got his ear, maybe you should ask him why another 200 G's was deposited in an account called "Harry Sharpe Enterprises" in a bank in Zurich - ask him that. If you can find him, that is, because Singh sure can't and neither can I.

Ask Doug Casper why he didn't tell us that there was a whole busful of masseuses traveling with us all summer, handing out rubs to the bandmembers and crew while Donald and I were creaking along like a couple of broken down old racehorses. I could never figure out why all the other guys were always all greased up at the soundchecks, or who all those cute girls were, now I guess I know. Ask Richard how come the band was renting out nightclubs and throwing parties in towns all over three continents and NO ONE EVER INVITED US - look , I know D and I aren't particularly good at parties, we're sort of a drag in fact, but - never mind. Ask yourself why there are $42,000 worth of restaurant bills from London - hell, we were only there for three days! And Craig - you and the Dickins brothers ran up a $3,000 tab one night in a restaurant in Paris, which is understandable, except for the fact that we NEVER PLAYED PARIS, now did we? Here's another thing -

I can't go on, this is too depressing. Singh will be over in the morning with the books, you can see for yourself. Maybe we should call back the Budweiser guys and see if they still want "Reelin" for the malt liquor commercial. You didn't tell them what I told you to tell them, right? Tell me you didn't.

Header Graphic: Eric "Rudy" Schuttler

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