This is Sam. A writer, musician, and general-enthusiast on a constant slippery slope to monocle-wearing snobbery.
Complaints and money orders can be sent to as.modest.as.dillinger [at] gmail.com
I’ve come to the belief that Bobby Farrell acquired a time machine around 1972 that allowed him to travel to the future and not only steal every one of my dance moves but also bite my seduction technique of generally never wearing a shirt. That time machine was cocaine.