"Adrian, Who the hell is Steve-O?" —Marty Hendley

Who the hell, indeed! It's a good question, and it demands a good answer. But to demand good answers is rude, and good questions should know better. Nevertheless, here's what we know: You can take the trash out of the trailer, but you can't take the trailer out of trash. This makes the trash itchy and uncomfortable, with a pronounced tendency toward electrocuting its own genitals and launching itself half-naked from cliffs in burning grocery carts. From this axiom springs Steve-O. But the real question here isn't really who is Steve-O, is it Marty? What you're really asking is, why is Steve-O famous? Why should you care? Is he hung? Is he rich? Isn't he that fuckweed that hawked my Rancid CDs for meth money? But why Steve-O is famous is neither here nor there, and gives hope to the drooling heart of every shaken baby on the short bus. Why you should care is because he pissed on the red carpet. The RED CARPET!

Oh, Steve-O! I just can't let this go! What the fuck were you ON? Go piss on Lassie. Piss on a church picnic. Piss on Oprah. Piss on Judge Judy's leg and tell her that it's raining. Cram your chancrous hose up George Bush's ass and piss until he sloshes like a barrel of oil! (It's karma!) But the carpet? Listen. When dusty foreigners with blurry eyes dream of America, do they dream of dying in some Arab ditch for George W.'s oil profits under the star-spangled eyes of the crass uncaring American flag—the banner of burping assholery? Indeed, no. The real America was not built on such mediocre dreams. When the blurry dreamers dream, they dream the real American dream—to be A-listed, to be somebody, someone unique and exclusive—and the dream flag that waves for them is not vain Old Glory. It is the red carpet. And you pissed on it, Steve-O. I hope you can't live with that. I can't. And please somehow convince Chris Pontius to wear that classic spandex devil costume and straddle my face. Thank you.

I'm complicated.

"Adrian, Elton John came in and bought six of Chris Engman's photographs at the Greg Kucera Gallery today! Are there other local artists in Elton's collection? Did he go on a local buying spree this week? Is this a big deal?" —AK

Elton John really annoys me. He pretends to be the pioneering King of Everything Gay but he came out when he was 104. Plus, he's fat. But the answers to your questions, AK, in order, are: Why not, maybe, and I guess so.

Send: adrian@thestranger.com