The Official ROCK ON Street Team!

If you would like to join the army of faithful fans who are spreading the word about my new book "Rock On: An Office Power Ballad" to people on the grassroots level, simply drop a line and inform us of your marketing strengths. Here's a quick look at the folks recruited so far (Nobody was dropping a line asking to join. Possible problem with internet?).

Rock On —
Dan Kennedy

Meet the official rock on street team. . . .

WHEELIE STEVE

Before you start complaining about Steve's nickname, understand that he came with it. When I met him he was, like, "Call me Wheelie Steve. That's what everyone calls me." I said, "Look, there's no way I'm calling you that and there's no way I'm putting you on the book's website with that name. It's offensive, it's base, it's completely insensitive." He said it wasn't any of those things since he was asking to be called that. He said it would be different if it were me who took the liberty of calling him that. I stood there silent, still unconvinced. He called me a pussy and then he said I had no guts. I said, "I don't know, it still doesn't seem right. . . " and then he said, "Fine, hand out your own postcards and stickers about your stupid book, jerkoff." That kind of confidence snapped me into action and I started calling him everything from Wheelie to Turbo to The Chairman and we're now the best of friends. Anyway, here he is making sure people on the lower east side get word about Rock On. You can't see in this shot, but he's plastered Rock On stickers all over the back of that Ford Taurus. Best guy I've got.

OTTO P. HERDIC

So, Otto is actually the official author photographer. He's sort of an honorary member of the street team; while he's not exactly out on the street handing out stickers or postcards, he is shooting author and book photos that are used to make these materials. Well, the truth is, I think he's managed to snap only two author photos in the course of a year and a half - and I don't mean we only used two, I mean there were only two photos shot — in eighteen months and at least that many "shoots" to use the term loosely. But, that's what happens when you're batshit crazy and spend most of your days doing things like staring at a lake convinced something remarkable could happen at any minute and you'll have been the only photographer there to capture it. I think he's got the OCD or something, or it could just be from drinking. Anyway, I took this photo with my phone after standing there for two hours asking him to quit staring off into space like some wino deviant and please take a goddamn author photo of me. Wheelie Steve was right: I have no guts. If I did, I would've fired Otto by now. This little gem of a snapshot cost me a plane ticket and three hundred bucks for his "Expenses" which, loosely translated, means "Wine, Tylenol with codeine, dirty magazines, and Applebee's."

JUANITA "SWITCHBLADE" GORDOS

Why do I now have a policy wherein I refuse to hire members of all-female Chicano gangs like Middleside Loco Widows as members of the Rock On street team? Well, because they fall in love with jazz fusion musicians and spend the day walking around and wasting time instead of getting the word out about my new book Rock On. See that satchel she's carrying around while she hangs on Demetrious's arm there? It's filled with 1,000 Rock On stickers that are most likely going to end up in the trashcan at this guy's home studio. No hard feelings, Juanita. Someday you'll bust your ass writing a book and ask me to hand some stickers out in hopes of the damn thing finding an audience - and on that day I'll remind you how it didn't matter to you when I was the one who needed a hand. For someone who has the word "Loyalty" tattooed on the front of her neck, you certainly have an interesting concept of what it means to live up to one's word, my friend.

MEET ROLFO!

Yes, I was camping in Montana. Yes, I had been reading a biography of P.T. Barnum. Yes, I was lonely and ambitious as well as adjusting to the effects of not having eaten for three days (the idea had been to catch fish and find "wild walnuts"). Anyway, that's when I had the idea. Seduced by a lack of oxygen at the altitude and a devastatingly low blood sugar level, I started calling and motioning to the bear whose name I seemed convinced was "Rolfo." The idea caressing my brain in my nutrient deprived haze was that Rolfo could be decorated with Rock On stickers and/or taped-on promotional postcards and then taken with me to readings. As you can see in this snapshot, Rolfo walked away, not interested in the least in promoting Rock On. At the time I was depressed by the reaction, thinking Rolfo's lack of interest meant he simply found my writing an exercise in which bland, low-intensity awfulness dominates the text and the narrative is weighed down in self-congratulatory smugness cloaked in disingenuous irony. But after I made my way to a ranger station and was treated to a complimentary 60cc intravenous re-hydration of Ringer's lactate solution and several 50% BP ampoule glucose injections, it was explained to me that I had "actually done the right thing by yelling and waving to scare the bear off." So, apparently I had accidentally frightened Rolfo away. At any rate, the street team is short one bear.