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One time, I went up to John Linnell to ask him for his autograph. He just looked at me blankly for a few seconds. Then his face turned three shades of red. Suddenly, he pulled out a switchblade and began carving his name on my forhead!! Two of his ever-present bodyguards held me so that I couldn't defend myself. He screamed,"You want my autograph, you little punk!!?? Wear it for life!!!" Then a bunch of his sycophant fans started cheering as the blood ran relentlessly down my face. John gave me a final kick in the crotch as he turned to walk away. And that's why I hate They Might Be Giants.
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