To my Wisconsin peeps...

I, The Greg One, being of abstract mind and fantastic body, hereby unburden myself of the following oddities and entities. Smile and be forever enriched my luminous beneficiaries, for you comprise the squarest inner circle since NO M.A.A.M. You are all loved and missed. Hopefully you will all allow the divinity that is my spirit to light the paths you tread. To Aaron, my spiritual brother, accomplice and best friend, I leave my boundless patience (especially at the poker table), and a car without a tree in the middle. With it will be one front seat so you can drive AND have shotgun, plus a dollars worth of gas to get you to EMPTY, a curtain time you can actually make, a wingman to jump on the most vile grenades without complaint, my new manual "Own The Table With These Enchantment Decks", a schedule that makes sense complete with specific times to 'talk', a new token black guy to laugh at all the whack black jokes and participate in the halloween idea, (i'm sure it will go over great THERE. I'd say take pictures but i'm sure all i'll have to do is pull up page one of the Baraboo news online), chronicle the de-eveolution of your catch phrases from 'How'd that go for ya?' to multisyllabic run-ons ala Larry the Cable Guy YOUMIGHTASWELLGOALLIN! PODS! POWBITCHES! Somewhere the Geico cavemen are smiling. Never fear though, YOUR MOM will always be timeless. Lets see..what else? Enough stuff in your basement to remind you I will always be there in some form, someone else to explain why Tori Amos is one of the greatest musicians there is, why you NEED ketchup and mayo on your brats, why maple syrup is the true nectar of the gods; to be imbibed with a fervor comparable to the cops in Super Troopers, someone to help you draft a GOOD basketball team, to go to all those terrible movies you think will be so good (Dreamcatcher, The Village, Van Helsing, Underworld...need I go on), to make a mixed cd that doesn't suck and finally someone as knowledgeable as me to continue your education of the nuances, subtleties and lingo of the black culture because we all know I was doing so well there! (Who better??) I'm also throwing in protection from the suck-out kings for as long as I can (no promises) effective immediately. No dancing until I return or until after you've taught Odie to shovel the sidewalk. The last ten years would not have been as great as they have been without you. I'm raising my glass in advance to my future best man...you've been the best for a long time. Thanks buddy. To Jenelle, (or mom, sister, dating coach depending on what day of the week it is) I also leave my patience, another shopping partner, a laundry list of names for the salon just in case, a clueless dater on the couch ready for your analysis, more judge shows, fewer reality shows, more hinting on moving to a bigger CITY, an end to the poker craze (that'll happen), a big, framed, smiling headshot of me to hang when you finally take over the salon and staff it with hotties (my number will be on the back), a future employee, a ride in the tank anytime you want, a robot with my face on it to distract the kids, timely car pools, soap-free iced tea, future dating misadventures to brighten your day (No more intrastate road trips for a first date, that's for sure!), an EASY button for the home entertainment center, more great debates and an open soap opera challenge. I'll watch two of yours and you have to watch one telecast of Monday Night RAW. I also leave someone to devour all the leftovers, and a lifetime supply of diet rite and light beer. I feel fortunate to have you in my life. Here's to a lifelong friendship and a name that will always be in the family. To Alex I leave my image all over TV, dinosaur eggs that hatch quickly, a monster-free house and enough of my overactive imagination to siphon from so it feels like I never left (As if you need it) Welcome to the Big Brothers Club. Few titles you receive in life will be even comparable in importance. Olivia, I hope my natural sense of rhythm and timing rubbed off on you. If you're wondering why, ask dad to dance for you sometime. I also leave you my favorite Tori CD for the room because I know Enya is getting old right about now... To Jim I leave a GOOD hand to play for a change. The correct order from Taco Bell, one more giant, green, gas guzzler to add to the fleet, a world title for your boy Edge, a Gavel of Doom +5 for the next fantasy football season, a third player at the noon games (for balance), toys that make the noise, and dreads so you can be the new black guy in the group until my return. (I know that's what you've secretly wanted anyway) and my manual 'Own The Table With These Token Decks'. To Brian I leave most awesome three spell boss character smackdown in recent D&D history, a sister who found my profile but never used it (hmmm...are you SURE she's white??), more bluehairs ahead of you on County A because yelling is good for you, a prime spot in a crappy casino (I bet if you get a spray tan you could convince them you're a native), a first person shooter you HAVEN'T mastered yet and a CD single on its way to Morgan Webb entitled 'She thinks my fragger's sexy' and a prime seat in the middle of the room so we can watch strippers break noses with their plastic boobs. (Good times) To Nate I leave huge pots won with The Baker, especially against Big Slick and pocket Aces (if the guys ever allow you to play again) and anything you can throw that will come back. To Tyson I leave a necromancer STILL looking for a tower, more pay-per-views that live up to the hype, a higher alcohol tolerance, more cult classics I haven't seen yet, a slot for you and Andrew on the next installment of Tough Enough as a tag team and my imminent return as Talons' son, Talon II. To Joe P. I leave everything in Snoop Dogs' dressing room. You can thank me later. To Steve I leave more bluffs that work, a guided tour of your house, a girlfriend in the same zip code (and we want to see a picture of her WITH you in it. We know what the girl that comes with the wallet looks like.) and a car with more trunk space (for transporting the you-know-whats). To Chris M. I leave the fabled theory of 'Greg math', bound to become the next poker phenomenon. Unlike regular math, you actually feel better after using it. In addition I leave one less tab, a ready freelance writer (for the standard fee), some hotties at the table (you've earned it), smokeless ashtrays, good scoops in and out of the newsroom and of course, dibs on the rights to my autobiography because I believe tales of a globe-trotting, enigmatic, gifted, scatterbrained black gypsy is just what the world needs. To Ray I leave all the rap music i'll never listen to, all the slang i'll never use, another boy so you'll get a double dose of your own medicine and the team colors, ALL of them. To Eric I leave my spot at the table and my resident athlete status until my return and another shooting guard for next years team. To Justin (What do you get the serviceman who does nothing?) Just kidding. I leave a PC beatdown still waiting to happen, the purple halo and plenty more of Uncle Sam's cash. To Martina (Sundays are for football!!)I leave pet names that make sense, extensions that will keep even after washing, nicotine-free cigarettes, self-cleaning dishes, a great job in a big CITY, more bowling victories until I return to reclaim the lead, cop show marathons(boooo), an end to the writers' and painters block, an OBEDIENT cat, less sleep more play, an understanding of sports and why Johnny Bravo IS funny, guilty pleasures and plenty of Tori Amos music to remember me by. To Tim I leave my manual: 'Own The Table With These Decks You Don't Have To Research' (third in the trilogy), directions to the next casino you'll jump to, only one card in hold'em so it will take you twice as long to tilt, lyrics to 'The Gambler', the number one pick in the next draft so you can use it on Kellen Winslow (he'll be fine), one more leather coat, a bigger, blacker dog, more buildings in Iowa and the hope that all that yellow coming through your window is actually the sun and not the corn. To Scott, Carol, Janie, Jeff, Devo, Samantha and the rest of the karaoke misfits I leave my high-energy renditions of 'Plush', 'Sweet Caroline' (to Janie), 'I Try' (since i'll never live that down), 'She thinks my tractor's sexy', 'Santeria', 'All the small things'(for Devo), 'You never even called me by my name' (for Samantha), the Garth Brooks catalog, numerous retro classics no one else will do, plus that cover of 'War Pigs' I never got around to. To the Badger Poker sect (Card-catching monkeys) I leave my bad beats, the points I gained trying to dump my chips, the only player with a lucky BOOK and the threat of my return. To the basketball crowd I leave games that have slowed down without my running the Randy Moss go patterns and injury-free sessions while I train Rocky style. To all those that I have left out, well, you should have been around more. Thank you everybody for making my two plus years in purgatory...um..Wisconsin memorable. To you I leave this site so you can follow my movements and share in the larger vision I developed while sitting at home and shaking off the shock of a plan gone awry. To paraphrase from Lord of the Rings, This site will be as the falling of small stones that start an avalanche. Those who know me will think I have lost what little sense I have left but even Einstein was misunderstood until he was a ripe old age...