This guy can't play or sing, and he hit on my mom several times, and then stood her up for a date, and she's 86. He killed my dog, and copyrighted songs I wrote in his name, and impregnated my sister and my wife, and my girlfriend. He urinated on my prizewinning roses, and told my pastor I worship Satan in my underwear, under a full moon, while drinking the blood of the innocent, which is getting harder and harder to find, by the way. He was never even officially accepted into the band, at all! He just started showing up at gigs, and plugging in one of those things you use for shining shoes, and insisted it be both mic'd and DI, and whenever someone requests a song, he yells, "that song sucks!" and throws little packets of ketchup at the audience member who made the request. I mean, I admit, he brings something very unique to the act, and he can play "the Battle Hymn of the Republic" with underarm farting noises, but people are starting to get sick of that, especially Judy, who also gets dizzy when she doesn't eat chocolate for a few minutes. So, he's been with the band for seventeen years; has never made a single rehearsal; sold all of us and our families bad life insurance; came to the Halloween Party at the Jewish Community Center dressed as Hitler; stole my car and drove it into the river, and then asked to be reimbursed for the gas money; sold our drummer's daughters into slavery; ate all the pie; killed a guy and put him in the keyboard player's trunk and then reported the car stolen while the keyboard player was making out with a supermodel in the back seat, and burnt the marshmallows that one time we went camping. Would you fire him? I mean, we've talked about this every time we've seen each other for the last twelve years, but we often wonder if we should just have a sit-down conversation with him, if he will stop putting his hands over his ears and shouting, "LA-LA-LA-LA-LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU!!!!" any time we so much as look at him.