Jill ate dinner at Dio’s house. Well, it was his mother’s house—I forget the story, but she was friends with a cousin of his and they went to eat at Mrs. Dio’s house up in North Jersey. Her names wasn’t “Dio” though—it was some other name, but she was his mom. She had his curly black hair. She had a five octave range.

I saw Dio live. It was an accident. I went to see Motorhead, and it just so happened Dio was also playing, along with Iron Maiden.

Dio was impressive. The band sounded awesome (in fact, they were the best sounding band of the night), and RJD was a real nice guy. He slapped hands with everyone in the first few rows and showed sincere appreciation for his fans. I recall his between song patter was oddly polite—Keith Beck described him as a “heavy metal Neil Diamond.” But then the band would start playing, and he’d slide right back into the “Dio thing.”

They played a shortened version of Heaven And Hell. They cut out the Iommi guitar solo. Too bad. But overall, Dio did a great show, and I left the Garden State Arts center with true respect for the man.

RIP, Ronnie.

Anyway, I was wondering what kind of effort goes into a $1000 pizza. I was wondering what kind of society would support such an asinine extravagence. It turns out the effort involves lobster, caviar, and something called creme fraiche. It turns out the society is ours.

Creme fraiche, in case you’re wondering, is the snot of an exotic oyster. Or maybe I’m just hoping that’s what it is.

The $1000 pizza also includes chives, salmon roe, and a little bit of spice with wasabi. In other words, a whole bunch of crap that does not belong there. Would you call it a tragedy if the guy who bought this pie choked to death on a gob of fish eggs?

I’d call it justice.

Nino’s is at 890 2nd Ave (212) 355-2355

Hey, I can pretend to be an expert about something. Actually, about everything.

Hey, I’m a real tough guy who can call people names while I sit here in my underwear and pretend the last girl I had sex with wasn’t inflatable.

Wow, these internet forums are so cool.

“Oh, yeah? What took you so long? I’ve been sitting here for years.”

“Well, I guess I was busy…. So what have you got for me?”

“I’ve got a secret, my son. Something no one knows. Something that will shake the foundation of modern society.”

“Wow. Is this about the end of the world?”

“No—it’s about MP3s and CDs.”

“Okay, cool… Because I don’t care about the end of the world. So what’s the story?”

“MP3s are overrated. They don’t sound nearly as good as CDs.”

“Wow. That is big news.”

“Ha, well here’s some more—CDs are far inferior to the sound of vinyl.”

“Now you’re getting radical.”

“And a stereo sounds FAR better than an iPod. And a tube stereo is superior to a transistor one.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“Seek and you will find… Compare and you will see.

“You know what’s sad, old man? I actually believe you.”

“Why is that sad, my son?”

“Because it means I’m getting old like you.”

“When I was a kid, I walked ten miles to school.”

“Uh, right.”

Since I’m pretty sure Earth has an oxygen atmosphere, I started wondering where I was going to use this thing. Then I turned on the TV and heard the President say we’re going to to Mars. I recalled the last President said the same thing… And now I’m wondering what’s so great about the place. I’m wondering if I can use my heating pad there.

I’m pretty sure Mars has a nitrogen atmosphere.

Bill pulled out a .45 revolver and forced me to eat a cannoli. Well, I might be lying about that… I chose to eat the cannoli, okay? I snatched it into my hand and shoved it into my throat while the sound of a heavenly choir sang orgasmic strains of glory. So I’m saying IT WAS GOOD. I also ate three pieces of pizza and drank two bottles of Bass ale.

And just as I’d feared, I woke up the next morning to discover I’d gained fifty pounds. I immediately did forty-thousand push-ups and lost the weight — but then my arms fell off.

I contemplated calling in sick at work, but have you ever tried to use a phone without your arms? It’s difficult because you need your hands, which of course are attached to your arms. So I arrived at work and I’m thinking they might fire me soon. They usually fire the guy with no arms pretty quick.

Call them and listen to the robot lady lead you through ten voice prompts. Stay on hold for 20 minutes and then experience the pleasure of talking to someone who seems a bit comatose. But don’t worry—that person will put you on hold, and after a long while you’ll be disconnected.

Call back again and enjoy the ten voice prompts once more. Several of these prompts will ask you for your phone number… Eventually, if you hang in there, you’ll reach a real person who’ll ask you for the phone number you’ve already entered three times.

Listen as they explain how the new modem will be sent on Monday. Call back Wednesday to verify it was sent. Talk to a disengaged girl who says, “Uh, it was probably sent out,” but who doesn’t know how to look up the information. Discover on Friday that it was never sent out. But don’t worry, it’s being sent now, and it will arrive on Monday. Unfortunately, it will not work.

Call back again. Go through the beloved voice prompts another time. Reach yet another person brimming with misinformation. You’ll be put on hold again, and then guess what? You’ll suddenly hear an agonizingly familiar menu of voice prompts! Where did the guy go? The guy who was making a futile attempt to help you? Apparently, he has vanished, and you’ll need to call back another time.

Call back again. Finally, you’ll get someone who says Verizon will “test the line.” Someone else will call “within 24 hours and give you the results of the test.” Of course, you have no internet connection, and you already know THE LINE DOESN’T WORK. But if they can verify this information, they will “send a new modem.”

You better sit down and wait for that call, Ivan.

Hang up the phone. Call Optimum Online and talk to a real person. They’lll be here tomorrow with a modem, and they’ll set it up for you.

Call Verizon again. Another 20 minutes on hold. Then another 5 minutes. Then some more holding followed by an attempt to get you to not cancel the DSL. Then an offer to lower the fee for the line that doesn’t work. Hey, that sounds like quite a deal—pay less for something that doesn’t work! I’m glad to see someone is now concerned about the situation.

Bye-bye, Verizon.

PS Ivan Seidenberg has announced plans this year to lay off thousands of people despite record profits.

McLaren was the guy who managed The Sex Pistols. I didn’t discover this band until long past their thirty-second prime—but I really came to love their one and only album, Never Mind The Bollocks, Here’s The Sex Pistols. If you’ve never heard this album, you should check it out. It’s one of my favorite records of all time.

Yes, I just used the term “record.” Put down your iPod and go look it up in a dictionary.

Did I just use the word “dictionary?” Uh, I meant go look it up on Google.

One thing I love about the guitar is the way it doesn’t require me to keep up with technology. I don’t have to trade in my Gibson SL 20 Standard Plus every six months for version 3.0 or whatever. Just change the strings every so often and eventually get the frets replaced.

No doubt some computer conglomerate is hard at work developing a “virtual guitar”—an instrument that doesn’t actually exist until you press a button, and then with a chiming noise it magically appears in your hands.

Of course, every now and then it freezes up and you get stuck playing the same chord for nine minutes. And the latest software is not compatible with older hardware, so you need to keep buying new virtual guitars. But you can twiddle a touch screen and the guitar will sound exactly like a tuba. In fact, if you purchase the cool new plugin, you’ll sound exactly like Jimi Hendrix playing a tuba underwater. Because that’s a sound we really need to hear.