Evan is the kind of person who would make up fake tribe.net friends just to give himself good testimonials.

Evan is one of those rare people that I encounter and think "this guy's smarter then me, I gotta watch my step".

One time, Mr. Bad and I were driving on the trans Canada Hwy, and he covered my eyes with his hands as a joke, and I hit a hitchhiker and killed him. Then Mr.Bad gets all serious and says, "You killed him, so now you have to eat him." Then, when I'm like half finished eating the guy, Mr. Bad starts laughing and tells me he was kidding! He's a jolly joker, that Mr. Bad.

What can I say? I'm the one who helped Mr Bad emerge into this world. And I'll probably burn in hell for it. Before, he was living a serene, almost perfect state with the universe. Then I entered his life. I taught him the joys of smoking blunts, binge drinking in dark Industrial night-clubs, and sex in public places with women/girls with big tits. It's kinda like the movie 'Auto Focus', except a lot more fun. Ever since then, I've had a running partner in a hedonist journey that will probably end up with three-dozen innocent by-standers being simutaniously intoxicated to a saturation point AND being blown up. Picture Christmas morning, and all the people opening presents have an IV drip of wild turkey, opiates, a touch of meth, and some mescaline thrown in for good measure. That's what being around him is like. and it's a good thing. And that's the way life should be.

Mr. Bad used to be an Elder of Zion. At their meetings he would drink raw olive oil and feast upon spitted quails. He quit because the supply of fine linen undergarments was contaminated with scurvy. At his farewell roast he made beautiful love to the Bilderburg Group.