What follows is a long lost story from August 2004 a year before I entered the corporate world. when MK ULTRA has reached its peak before the entire industry took a major hit from online music and video sharing. This is a tale from the golden days of book store and music store chains. A year that I was on SHOWTIMES “Family Business”, in many other trade related magazines and in documentaries and TV shows abroad. The mk ultraviXXXens had grown into a successful brand of its own and along with my friends we rode that wave of success and all he fun that came with it. The following story is from that time and like I wrote in the opening line of this “confession”, a long-lost story.
This would be my first attempt at sharing a “gonzo” attempt at a story with another writer. It proved to be work. At least with Jason. I’ve had others attempt and fall short. Detroit Jason did pretty good on out New Glarus trip but nobody else on that journey joined in. These two Jason’s are actually pretty decent writers who are well read and they get it, but you also have to experience it. And boy howdy did we experience GlamourCon.
It’s Jason’s love for the band My Life With The Thrill Kill which led him to originate the title. Ultimately our friendship does trace back to a Thrill Kill Kult concert in 1995 at the Vogue in Indianapolis in 1996 but we wouldn’t actually meet till the following spring.
“Skin flicks, lipstick
Baby scribbles in the mirror
Drama overdoses
Night shift, mind twist
She’s got her finger on the trigger
Drama overdoses“
After losing a domain or two over the years and having my best site ever hacked with all of those decades of blood sweat tears and money was all stolen away from me by being hacked. Not just the beloved MK ULTRA Magazine website but my social media, which happened at the most inconvenient time because Nick Huffman had passed away, and I was without a away to reach out to the necessary people in regards to his memorial. It was heartbreaking, and no matter how one might justify it, it is theft. And I now have seemed to have finally narrowed down the identity of the guilty party which I truly don’t understand. I guess I’ll just chalk if up to Bipolar disorder. For whatever reason the person wanted to erase any association with me online, I was able to figure that out today when I found this story and some other missing parts and a chunk of time that seems to have been targeted to scrub permanently, and the rest that I will slowly reassemble piece by piece parts I believe are relaxant. However it is THIS story that I have been tying to find in any shape or form so now here it is. Oy Vey!
“It was the whiskey talkin’….”
The following stunts are performed by highly trained professionals under little or no supervision, so for your safety and the protection of those around you, please don’t try this at home or anywhere else.
Photos by Karlton (RIP)
What follows are the torrid details as recalled by MK’s founder and a writer of their mis-adventures at Glamour Con 34. None of the names have been changed because nobody involved is innocent. Although if the order of the events chronicled within do not match up perfectly, it is nonetheless, the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
And that alone is sad enough indeed, as well as decadent and depraved.
Jamie, AZ and Anna and you can see Jason wheeling in the background
THE CHECK IN BY HARMON
I know what it means when you have a First Class ticket. It means you get a larger, more comfortable seat. It also means free cocktails! So when the guy at the United ticket counter asked if I’d mind taking a flight an hour later on a plane that would be easier for me to board, and informed me I could sit in First Class, I whole heartedly agreed. I knew Alex was suppose to meet me at the same time as my new flight would be taking off, but I was sure he’d find a way to entertain himself. Chicago is a very short flight from Indianapolis, you are really only in flight for about 35-40 minutes. More time is spent on the runway than in the air. In that time I managed to suck down three Jack & Cokes (I fully believe in taking advantage of free liquor). Once I arrived at the massive industrial complex known as O’hare International Airport, it took me a few moments to track down my bag which hadn’t switched planes from the one I was originally suppose to fly on. I hopped into a cab whose driver could have been an extra from the movie Black Hawk Down. He tried to pretend like he didn’t know where he was going, an old cabbie trick used to rack up the fare on out-of-town passengers. Finally, I arrived at the O’Hare International Holiday Inn. As soon as I made my way into the lobby, I began to gaze upon some of the lovely ladies I would be meeting the next afternoon. While checking in, one of the desk clerks heard me say my name and told me someone had been asking for me. I knew there was only one degenerate bastard it could be…..Alex “Fucking” Zander. -JH
THE CHECK IN BY ZANDER
It was about 3:30 p.m. on Friday the 27th when I arrived at the Rosemont stop to go over to the Holiday Inn. I opted not to meet my friend at the airport. JSIN’s flight was not just late, he had to take a later flight in which they offered him a first class ticket for the hour flight from INDPLS to CHI O’HARE. It seemed they had planned to put the wheelchair bound freak into a smaller plane in which they would have had to carry him up the stairs. For me, it meant a rather long wait at the bar. For him, it meant free drinks. By the time he arrived at the hotel I had sat at the bar where Luis served me and kept me entertained with mind teasers. I had met this bartender before, at the Flashback Weekend Event less than a month earlier. He waited on Paige and I on night one, and Jon and I on night two.
So far the score was four drinks for me $40 and three for him at $0. – AZ
8/27/04 FRIDAY BY HARMON
Soon we were in our home for the next two days, and the whiskey was flowing. I had procured a ½ gallon of Maker’s Mark for AZ and a ½ gallon of Jack Daniels for myself to fuel the weekend’s adventures. After settling into our room and some unpacking, we decided to head down to the bar and wait for the hotties to arrive. Instead we were greeted by the unholy presence of Newbomb a.k.a Bob. We hung in the bar for awhile and by this time I was really feeling the effects of the J.D. Maybe it also had something to do with flying. The next thing I remember is laying in bed in our room, with Alex telling me to wake up and come downstairs. Uh-uh!
When you are so sloshed you have no recollection how you got into bed (or who put you there, especially when hanging out with two known mischief makers like A.Z. and B.H.), you shouldn’t be in a bar. They took mercy on me for two hours, letting me sleep off some of the Tennessee sour mash polluting my bloodstream. Soon they were back with tales of model sightings, so with a bit of convincing I decided it was time for round two. I can barely recall what happened in the following hours. I remember trying to pass a copy of the magazine to an older lady with collagen lips at the bar who was a total snob, and according to A.Z. and B.H. was making fun of me behind my back (I later saw her at Glamourcon, she was a Playmate in the 80’s). Oh well, I’m not the one who looks like my mouth got caught in a vacuum cleaner hose. Not long after it was back up to the room for a nightcap and sleepy time, for tomorrow the ladies would be waiting. – JH
8/27/04 FRIDAY BY ZANDER
The event we were attending was Glamourcon, a two-day event where as members of the press we would join all the Playmates, Models, Pinups, Artists, Photographers, Celebrities, Collectibles Dealers, Publication Vendors, and more VIPs. But the real fun was when we got to attend “The After Dark Party” in the Holiday Inn’s Rickenbacker’s Nightclub and Lounge on Saturday for great food, great drinks, lots of fun, and to hang out with the beautiful models appearing at Glamourcon. Then dance the night away while enjoying special Glamourcon inspired drinks. But this is another story where I’ll allow JSIN to fill in the blanks, when the appropriate time comes.
Bob H met us in our room and we all played for awhile in the lounge. – AZ
8/28/04 SATURDAY BY HARMON
I was awakened by AZ some time around 10 a.m. (I think) on Saturday. My head was pounding like an all night rave and my stomach was grumbling like a big block Chevy. Sometime before sun up, Newbomb had pulled his usual stunt of making a quiet exit. I was too tired to stop him and he wasn’t fucking with my coffee maker (a story from a previous all-nighter), so I hardly stirred. AZ always hops in the shower first; partly because I take longer to wake up than he does, and partly so he can bust my balls for taking my time getting ready when he wants to go. So right around noon, with no food in our bellies and drinks in hand, we left room #625 and set out for whatever sin and debauchery might await us.
Before getting to the actual convention, we happened upon a gentleman whose name we didn’t know yet, but would become a new friend before the con concluded. We traded glances and nods. Alex immediately dubbed him “Alec Baldwin.” Why (which the gentleman would ask us more than once) did we call him that? Well, he looked like Alec Baldwin. That is just the way AZ and I are when we get together. If we heckle you, it’s usually a sign we think you are okay. He soon went from being “Alec Baldwin” to being “Steve Svetty,” a character Baldwin had played on Saturday Night Live (the character’s name is actually Pete Schweddy, not Steve Svetty. But what did we know, it was noon and we were already into the whiskey. Hair of the Dog). The Gentleman’s real name is Michael and from the get-go he took Alex and my abuse. Pretty soon he was throwing it right back at us. This cat stands well over 6ft and is as wide a pro wrestler, so if he wouldn’t have been a good sport, he could have easily knocked us both into next week. I soon noticed that Svetty would often pull a yo-yo from his pocket during the conversion and perform tricks. This made him even more amusing; a large fella that looks like Alec Baldwin, playing with a yo-yo at an adult entertainment convention. You can’t make that shit up.
We got in line to get our credentials (with whiskeys still in hand). It was at this point, things began to look a little odd. We noticed that we were surrounded by some rather greasy, sleazy looking animals. We made our under the breath comments and snickers, were given our passes, and proceeded through the big, wooden door. Nothing could have prepared me for the spectacle I was about to witness.
Soon we were waist deep in a sea of peroxide, silicon and collagen. Being a small town boy from central Indiana, I’d never seen such marvels all in one place. It was almost like the cantina from Star Wars had merged with a smut shop. Girls of all sizes, colors and creeds surrounded us; blondes, brunettes, red heads, white, Asian, black. Short and tall, petite and Amazonian. Not only were there girls everywhere, but we were also mixed in with a group of guys, any one of whom could have played the lead in a live action film version of Hustler’s “Chester The Molester.” One of the first ladies we met was Cleopatra Of The Nile, who was cool but seemed to not have never been a spelling bee champ. She had made hand written signs to promote herself, which had the names of two very well known celebrities she claimed to have worked with spelled wrong. One of the celebrities was Salma Hayek. Cleopatra claimed she was Hayek’s stunt double in the film Desperado, a film Alex and I both love. We enthusiastically told her we were big fans of the film, to which she replied, “fuck Salma Hayek, she’s a fucking beeech.” AZ and I nearly pissed ourselves.
Next to her was the lovely and extremely busty Taylor Wane. To her right was the girl I was most looking forward to meeting, Aria Giovanni (girlfriend of guitarist extraordinaire John 5). Sadly, I was disappointed. She did look very beautiful, but charged me $5 for her autograph (on MY DVD) and wasn’t very friendly. In fact, it seemed that during most of the show she wasn’t at her booth. But next to her was the girl who would be our favorite at Glamourcom…whom we would come back to again and again…Miss Stacy Burke. Little Stacy Burke is a guy’s dream; very petite, blonde, very nice breasts, and as friendly and bubbly as could be. She was always dolled up in the cutest corset / cheerleader combo outfits. We ventured on, looking for Jamie Michelle, who was a MK ULTRA VIXXXEN, and who Alex had a t-shirt for. We met a few girls, I snapped a few pics (I kept having issues with my digital camera shutting off for no reason), and we gave out a few copies of the mag.
We came across Shannon Tweed (Gene Simmons’s live-in girlfriend of some 20 years). Being KISS fans (and AZ being a HUGE fan of Gene), of course we had to heckle her. At first she didn’t seem to mind, but soon grew tired of our antics. Particularly after later in the day when I told her an amusing little anecdote involving AZ in a Gene Simmons costume and too many milligrams of Viagra, complete with me giving a hand gesture to explain AZ’s physical condition that day. I described to her how his member punched out through the spandex and outside the codpiece like a brick. Alex had already ran from me when I told him I was going to share this story with Shannon. He was hiding somewhere, but close enough he could still see what I was doing. As I performed this hand gesture, which was already a running joke between Alex and I, immediately as I extended my index finger to simulate Alex’s overly erect penis, a thunderous laugh erupted from him. Pretty much every attendee on the convention floor turned to look in his direction as he made a fast exit from the room. When I thanked for listening to me babble, and mentioned some of the girls looked at us like we were dumb asses, she replied, “You are dumb asses!” I guess she didn’t find it amusing, and tried all to avoid eye contact with us for the duration of the con. Later a few of the girls told us Sharron didn’t like us, to which we retorted, “so what.”
We found Jamie Michelle, who was sitting at our friend Svetty’s booth. I was hungry and feeling a little ill, so we went for pizza and then back up to the room for more hootch. This was pretty much how the afternoon went; go up to the room, get whiskey, go back down to the con, do a lap, take pics, talk to girls, make comments about girls, and back up to the room. Slowly the whisky began to grab hold of us again, and we were being our idiot, drunken terrorist selves. About mid afternoon AZ began to wonder where our real photographer, Karlton was. He hadn’t been seen yet. As we ventured to our room and passed the front desk, we found our man. I’d never met Karlton, but I could tell right away that he wasn’t sure what to think of the state of AZ and I. Right away Karlton began calling me Roy (Orbison) because of the blue eyeglasses I wear. Damn, I have too many nick-names. After Karlton checked into Room #615, we headed back to the Con so he could scope the action. Soon we were all hungry and decided to leave to hotel to go to a place next door called Gibson’s. The three of us strolled into this very fine eating establishment looking like the road crew from an 80’s metal band. The tables were guarded by wait staff dressed all in all white. Alex ordered a beer, Karlton a Coke, I had a water. I desperately needed to hydrate and dilute the alcohol coursing though me. After looking at the menu and figuring out we would need a small fortune to order off it, we left and went to the Embassy Suites bar nearby and ordered the sampler platter. After filling our bellies and pissing off some Trixie-type women who were waiting to go see Metallica, we headed back to our hotel. We spent the rest of the day in and out of the con and our room.
We started to get bored but knew that at 9 p.m. the After Dark Party was going to be in the bar. We waited around for the girls to file in. Around 10 they began to arrive. It was Taylor Wane’s birthday, so at first they had most of the girls roped off from the public, but eventually everyone mingled together. The band Marazene came out to meet the girls and had some fun. There was an ample supply of liquor. Some guy asked me if I thought it would be okay to smoke a joint right there in the middle of the bar. I told him that probably wasn’t a good idea (I thought he smelled like bacon, if you know what I mean). The girls were getting funky. Back at the dance floor the boys in the band were whooping it up, Stacy Burke was dancing with some guy who was an absolute nut (they were doing the hand jive from Grease and shit). A tiny, very cute but clumsy blonde almost caused a disaster. I’m not sure of her name, but she was dancing away in her clear heels as she held a glass of wine in her hand. I made my way to one side of the dance floor where the boys in the band were in a line watching the dancing cutie. One of the guys leaned down and said in my ear, “keep an eye on her, she’s been spilling her drink on the floor. We are waiting for her to bust her ass.” The prediction soon came true. Suddenly her feet flew out from under her, she was about three feet in the air, then landed flat on her hot little ass. While in the air, one of her clear heels shot off her foot like a SCUD missile, traveled across the room, and almost hit a couple sitting at a corner booth. I felt bad for her, but that didn’t stop me from laughing loudly with the band. How can you not laugh at something like that? Soon it was 1a.m., AZ starting to get sloppy and worn down, so I escorted him back to our room. As I was looking for my keycard, Karlton and a blonde came around the corner. As soon as he saw me, he grabbed her and turned around to go back the other way. I heard him say, “I gotta get out of here” or something to that affect, to which I replied, “Yeah, thanks for leaving me to baby sit Alex you jackass.” Just as we were about to go in our room, a girl who I had talked to earlier and was really digging went into the room across from ours. I was hoping to maybe get AZ asleep so I could talk to her more. Well, he didn’t want to go right to sleep so I watched Analyze That until his bitch ass passed out. I went across the hall to her door but didn’t hear anything. I went back down to the bar to see if there was any action or maybe a lonely, horny lady looking for company. Much to my dismay, all was quiet on the western front. I decided the best thing to do was go to bed and get some rest, for tomorrow was another day. – JH
8/28/04 SATURDAY BY ZANDER
Allow me to begin with the morning when we awoke, it was Saturday already, and we went down to have pizza for breakfast at 11 a.m. After the Uno’s variety slice covered with crushed red pepper we got our passes for the day and entered. We were greeted by the world renowned, British beauty, porn star, pin up babe, Miss Taylor Wane, who upon seeing MK informed us she already saw it in L.A. I asked was it TOWER Records? She said no, it was at a friends house. That was, for me, a huge compliment.
It was around this time we also met the hardest working girl at the Con, Cleopatra of the Nile. Her credentials were hand written in marker. She spelled Evel Knievel; Evil, and Salma Hayak; Selma. She cared enough to mention she’d change the spelling of Evel when she had a chance, but commented fuck Salma she’s a fucking beech. Yeah, all beauty and well, lets just say she was wonderful, friendly and nice as can be.
Next off it was time to find our lovely ViXXXen Jamie Michelle. It was no problem because she was perhaps one of the three most gorgeous natural beauties there. She was right around the corner, but it wasn’t until we got past the bubbly and stunning Stacy Burke. Stacy was the spokes-model for the event, and as J and I both told her, she looked a lot more attractive in person than in pictures. And we meant it with complete sincerity.
I had actually met her in the lobby as she was bouncing around in her high heels, tight top and very short skirt. I mean to tell you, if she had a plug in you’d been able to see the string kids. She was looking for the bathroom and I helped her find the little girls’ room, and she is a little girl, very small, S – M – ALL! I didn’t recognize her from the photos because she looked 18 and had the energy of a young athletic, spirited teenager. We hung out, she mentioned she was familiar with MK. We got a few pix and went off to meet Jaimie.
But it wasn’t just Jamie, it was her, Anna Lee Jackson, Deauxma, and Michael Ilyinsky, a man who I immediately dubbed Steve Svetty because he looked a lot like a version of Alec Baldwin. He didn’t seem to mind the joke, and we rode it out all weekend. Michael is an amazing photographer from Cincinnati who JSIN, Karlton (who showed up not till 3 p.m.), and I gained a great deal of respect for. However Jamie is just the bomb. At 21-years young you can see she is a true professional and I see her doing really big things with her career. She’s going to have one helluva future as a model.
Next up was Shannon Tweed. Our initial meeting was nice, she signed another copy of the PLAYBOY that she sent me back in 1991. I showed her the magazine and she said she didn’t need to read or hear anymore of Gene talking about himself, because she has to live with the man. For those of you who don’t know Shannon Tweed and Gene Simmons have lived together around 20 years and she is the mother of their two children, Nicholas and Sophia. I showed her the David La Chappell photo we were offered to print, and she said she liked it, and I commented on how gaunt and how bad I thought he looked in it and she remarked, “Well Gene isn’t a very handsome man.” WOW! The truth hurts eh? I wonder if she gives him shit. Well as nice as she tried to be, she was actually the coldest of everyone we had met. And we were just getting started.
We met hundreds of girls, got lots of photos, and finally found Karlton checking into his room. It was 3 p.m. and the man was three hours late. I guess traffic was a bitch. J and I were getting our balls on and got another drink in our room. We came back downstairs, hooked Karlton up with a pass, and proceeded to get some professional photographs.
It was getting near the end of the con for the day and we all went to our rooms to get ready for the After Dark Party. It should have been called the after dork party because there were plenty of dorks at the show. In fact, they scared JSIN and I both. Almost every guy had the same shape and you could tell they hadn’t been laid well, since at least 5 years before the last time I was. If even. And this party really rocked people. Then the MARAZENE boys showed up, and we really had a ball. Taylor Wane was celebrating her birthday and she was a lot more fun when she didn’t have to stand and sign autographs.
TJ couldn’t get his eyes off her massive boobage. I can’t say that I blame him, but I’m not that big of a tit man myself. Not that I mind a D-cup now and then, especially when I need a warm pillow, but if there isn’t at least a hint of a booty, well, then my time is wasted. And I like the face first. Nice eyes and a bright smile can open my attention quicker than a key can open a door.
Now Stacy Burke was another story. This little thing was just non fucking stop. It was like she was on something because she was never out of character and she earned three new fans in the trio there representing MK. The party ended around midnight, and I for one had enough. I got a shower and crashed. JSIN, being like Grego in Vega$ went back down to the bar but it was dead. I suppose the girls needed at least 8 hours to look their best the next morning. – AZ
8/29/04 SUNDAY BY JASON
I couldn’t sleep. For some reason I kept tossing and turning. Anyone who has ever had the misfortune of sharing a room with Alex knows there is no sleeping around him. Not only does he talk in his sleep (excessively), he laughs in his sleep. Around 4 a.m., just as I was starting to dose off, AZ started into one of his giggling fits. This lasted for about an hour. No matter what I said, he would start his damn giggling. I’d say, “go to sleep!” he’d start. I’d be quiet, he’d start. He finally shut the hell up and I continued to doze off and wake up. Next thing I know AZ is telling me to wake up, throwing the curtains open, blinding me. I wasn’t hung over like the morning before, but I was extremely exhausted. I laid in bed as AZ got ready then got myself together. I gathered up all my stuff, as Karlton had booked his room for late checkout on Sunday and we were going to move our stuff to his room. We went back down to the con, but most of the excitement had faded. I wasn’t drinking this morning, and there wasn’t half as many people as there was the day before. We made the rounds again and chatted with all of our new friends. We even sent Karlton over to take Shannon Tweed’s picture, she didn’t know he was with us. We ran into the little blonde who had slipped and fell the night before. Alex called her “clear heels.” She started to cry, saying to me, “your friend is an asshole!” I told her not to let him know it bothered her or he would say it even more. It was a pretty slow day overall. 5 p.m. rolled around and Glamourcon Chicago was officially over. I didn’t have to be at the airport till around 7:30 so we hung in the bar. Marcos and Lee, two of AZ’s buddies, came by, as well as some other friends to hang out and say good-bye. A model named Deauxma grabbed my head and smashed me into her very large breast implants. It felt like getting hit in the face while playing dodge ball back in school. Soon it was time for my exit. I said my goodbyes and grabbed a cab to the airport. My flight left around 9:20 p.m. and arrived in Indy about an hour later.
So that’s my tale kiddies. I made it home in one piece. No arrests. No broken bones. No lost items. Once again AZ and I raised our special brand of hell and had a blast doing it. We met some cool people and made new friends. I want to say thanks to my new homie Karlton. To Michael (aka Alec Baldwin aka Svetty) and his lovely ladies, Taylor Wane, the goddess Stacy Burke, Natasha (who I thought was the second most beautiful girl at Glamourcon after Stacy) and to all the other gorgeous ladies and assorted perverts who we laughed with, laughed at, or heckled just a little too much. A special thanks to Shannon Tweed for being my victim of what AZ calls, “something that will take a lot to top.” An extra special Snootch-To-The-Mother Fucking-Nootch thanks to my partner in crime for three days, Mr. Alex Zander. We always have a blast and manage to out-due ourselves. So, what’s next?
P.S. I want to dedicate this to Herbert Slettvet, who I found out as I was finishing this story up had passed away. I’m sorry we fell out of touch for so many years Papaw Herb, but you will always be with me. Anytime I drink some whisky or hear some good old school country music, you’ll be in my heart. R.I.P. – JH
8/29/04 SUNDAY BY ZANDER
Sunday morning I was up, showered and grabbing Karlton out of his room which looked more like the studio of a Playboy photographer. He had backdrops up, lights all over, and instead of looking like he was shooting models, which is what he was doing late at night, it looked more like a cheap porno set with the two king-sized beds and lights all about.
We want downstairs, grabbed some pizza for breakfast and Shannon Tweed avoided all eye contact with me as she ordered a triple espresso. Karlton even remarked, “She’s ignoring you bro.” We waited till the gates opened, and went on in. JSIN met us later. It was the lords day, so they say, and nobody went to church. This was a room for sin. To paraphrase Gene $immon$, we were “living in sin at the Holiday Inn.” We were attending mass at the Church Of The Poisoned Mind.
Karlton spent the day taking ladies up to his room and shooting them as JSIN and I got chummier with Michael, Deauxma and Michelle from Netmichellecom And we were getting CRAZY. In fact as the whole thing wound down a few people met us in the hotel bar where Marcos and Lee came, and even Mike Gierek made another appearance. Marcos left and that would have been my ride to the city. I was going to try and hang out, finish my Maker’s Mark and what not. But it wasn’t meant to be so I had Gierek give me a lift back to the city. I was tired and beat, and finding my keys in the dark stairwell was not fun. I had to dig through all of my bags to find them. Other than the little I spent on transportation, food and beverages, the only thing I bought was a 3-D BATMAN mouse-pad and gave $5 to ARIA GIOVANNI to sign an all lesbo porn flick I gave to JSIN. She was also already familiar with MK. Some of the girls we became friends with sent us home with freebies for being such sweet dumbasses. Deauxma hooked me up with a poster likeness of her in black vinyl, and both she and the photographer Michael Ilyinsky signed it to me, only he signed it Steve Svetty, which only highlights his sense of humor.
I made it home with armloads of goodies the girls gave me. They all wished us well and hoped to see us in L.A. I’ll be at AVN, but no L.A. Who knows what JSIN will do. He once went over to Norway to see some girl he met once and she blew him off the whole trip. So L.A. maybe a possibility for old Sex On Wheelz.
In an email I got from Michael Ilyinsky, Svetty himself, he said L.A. wouldn’t be the same without us. And I bet they’d prefer it that way. Or maybe not. See you in Vega$.
Since the show I’ve been hearing from my new Glam Con friends on a regular basis. Thanks for merging your minds and talents with the rockers of MK – AZ
