True! I made my personal journey late last May.
What at trip! My flight arrived and I was immediately whisked away by personal bodyguards into a bulletin board-proof limousine where I was entertained by two massive-chested, spectacular-assed southern belles with no sense of right or wrong and just enough drive time to prove it. I wish I could have busied myself with various naughty actions without FitzGenius shouting his version of jazz history through the chauffeur’s partition.
Subservient mutes immaculately maintain Mike’s neighborhood, solid gold spittoons anchor each sidewalk corner and his home dwarfs the neighboring mansions of lower society. His “ThinkTank” is mind-blowing. Here more than 500 employees mill about ingesting complimentary controlled substances while producing allaboutjazz’s content. Trained seals open kickback checks, who bark approval and clap flippers to announce each additional 100k…
Sounds good, no? Truth is, Mike leads a pretty spartan lifestyle. Small home made in, what? the 50s? on an equally frugal piece of land. His “office” is comprised of nothing more than a single desk dominated by a PC. Well, that and a couple of shelves full of CDs ’n’ stuff.
For what it’s worth, of course.