This is the longest post ever published on PK.com and quite simply the best. If you don't get through it, that's your problem. But at least read Question No. 6 — trust me. And before we start, an announcement:

WE'RE GOING DRINKING WITH TEQUILA DAVE! Everyone is invited to happy hour at American Trash (First Ave. bet. 76 and 77 Streets) Thursday, April 22 at 7 p.m., where Dave will answer follow-up questions, sign autographs, make you laugh your fucking head off and drink more goddamn tequila than a team of illegal Mexican construction workers who just got off a 12-hour shift. E-mail me to let me know you're coming.

1. What is Harpoontang, and what's its history and current mission?
Originally Harpoontang was my mine and my brother's band. Back in '82 we were working in a studio called Mega Music on the East Side of Manhattan. It was a privately owned studio, so Fluff and me got plenty of time to write tunes and track. At that point I was playing drums and guitar, Fluff was singing and playing bass. It was pretty bad, but we were having fun. In April of '83 we met up with Spunky in the Scrap Bar down on MacDougal St. A few months later we met Noodles at The Be Bop Café. That’s how the original Harpoontang came together (and that's the very, very short declassified version of how we met, because there was some very heavy illegal activity involved in both meetings). In the big picture we were going to be ROCK STARS. Fuck that, we were ROCK STARS! We drank like Rock Stars, we fucked chicks like Rock Stars, we did drugs better than Rock Stars, and we had some ass-kicking tunes. And, at that time, a manager with money.

Unfortunately, due to drug addiction, incarceration and death, Harpoontang had a hard time getting were we wanted to be. I'd get out of drug rehab, Noodles would go inside for six months. He’d get out, Spunk goes in and I’m back in rehab. Then Fluff dies. It was pretty much an ugly circle of abuse that lasted ohhhhhhhhhhh ... two decades. I'm not going to get into wives right now 'cause that will just put me over the top — even though I get along with my two living ones. When Noodles was released in '99 I thought we could all get straight and try one more time, so I came up with the ingenious plan of going to Southeast Asia to get our chops back. BIG MISTAKE, very BIG MISTAKE. That was by far the stupidest thing I've ever done in my life. I’m not sorry we went, I'm just sorry in general. So when we came back I knew it was over, I knew our dreams of Rock Stardom were cooked. However, it was brought to my attention one night at American Trash (Harpoontang's favorite Drinking Establishment) by a very big-boobied woman that we should hire a new Harpoontang to replace us — like passing on the torch. I was like, "Who the fuck is gonna wanna do that?" But then it hit me — we're too old and bitter to be doing this, we needed younger, better looking guys. So, goddamn it, we went and found some. And motherfucker, they'll kick your ass, just like us. I'd have it no other way.

Now as far as the current mission, I'm going to continue to produce more Harpoontang music whether people like it or not. I'm not here to make friends man. I'm here to crank out my fucking tunes and annoy people. Now I understand "the music" at this time isn't really bringing in the big bucks we need to survive in Manhattan and keep the ladies happy, so naturally we had to get back into pharmaceuticals. That's all I'll say about that. We also have a very lucrative business keeping the fine citizens of Yorkville safe from crime and hooliganism. I detest hooliganism and tomfoolery so I take that end of our business very seriously, as does Noodles, who really does most of the enforcing.

2. What were your goals when you launched TequilaDave.com, and how's it going so far?
My major goal when I started up the site was to warn the women whom I was stalking "in a friendly kinda way" a better idea of who I am. I wanted Lizzie Grubman, Susan McGinnis and the Olsen Twins to know I wasn't some freak. I’m a fun guy and totally harmless. People like me. I just want to know if I have a shot. Then some drunk in the bar said to me one morning, "You guys have so many fucked up stories, you should put them on the Internet and sell them." I was like, "We don't need to sell the fucking stories, dumbass, we got the pharmaceutical division now." Then I put on the music, tequila reviews and the cooking and the rest is history. The site's getting hits, and I'm getting plenty of interesting feedback. And, just like I figured, some people get it, some people don't.

3. A night of sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll is a sure-fire formula for a woeful next morning. Describe what you call a "Category 5 Hangover" and tell us about a time you suffered through one.
A Category 5 — that's bad man!!! In brief, I describe hangovers like a hurricane. I don't name them or anything, I just rate them 1 to 5. Five being the worst. My entire life is a Category 1 or 2, so lets just go straight to the top and hit a 5. A Category 5 hangover is so, so bad, NOTHING will stay in your system. You can't eat, you can't drink. You can't even open your fucking eyes. If you drink four ounces of water just to get your mouth wet, you'll barf up 16 ounces, wondering, "Where the fuck is all that coming from.?" Then comes the bile. Hmmmmmmm, now you're barfing a bitter, yellow fluid that just stays with ya all morning long. At this point you usually start shivering.

Most of my Category 5s take place here in Manhattan, where I can crash in my bed and close all the blinds. But during the summer I go Saint Maarten, and down there there's no escape from the elements. I've had some doozies down there, baby. One that comes to mind is when I was one my way to the America's Cup 12 Meter Regatta. A very physical day indeed for me. The night before I was hanging the The Greenhouse at Bobby's Marina for the Twofer Tuesday special. I drank a fifth of tequila myself and woke up the next day with a MAJOR Category 5 — almost a 6. But I was determined to race the 12 meters. I was going to be on Stars & Stripes that day, so I got my shorts on and barfed all the way to the car — finding it with a flat. I was like, "FUCK!!!" I almost started to cry. But motherfucker, I got out the spare and started changing that tire. About a minute into it, I'm on all fours on a burning driveway, sweating to death with a Category 5, dry-heaving in 90-degree heat. I thought my eyes were going to explode. I wanted to pull them out of my head with a spoon and toss them in a glass of ice water. Unfortunately, I didn't have a glass of ice water or spoon. If I had a gun, I may have shot myself. Anyway, a gardener came by and took me back to my room. I never raced Stars & Stripes. However, I emerged from my room two days later — ready to do it all over again.

4. What are your thoughts on online music sharing? Do you think the music industry benefited at all from the Napster-Kazaa phenomenons, or do you think they'll always look at the 2000-03 period as a dark one?
Very, very tricky question. It's deeper than most think. But since the music industry labels really live off of publishing as their main source of income, I don't think it was as dark for them as everyone thinks. Believe me, they get paid first, end of story. I say, share the fucking music you assholes!

5. Tell us about your idea for a Tequila Dave Rockin' Happy Hour television show.
Well, for about the last five years I've been developing my Rockin' Happy Hour show. I think it's a great idea and now's the time to do it. Basically, I would be the host. Legendary Tequila Dave with the beautiful, yet incorrigible, Tequila Girl as my ass-kicking co-hostess. Harpoontang would, naturally, be the house band and play our timeless classics. Many of my NYC street friends would stop by, too — like Vinnie "Chum" Tommisino and Captain Salty Wounds of the Killarney Tug Boat Company. I would also interview local artists, celebs, as well as NYC nobodies who are just plain street freaks — and YOU would get to take an inside look at the Harpoontang Organization. How exciting is that?

There would be all kinds of fun segments like my favorite drinking game: YOU WHORE, YOU DID THAT? and BET WITH YOUR HEART, where I bet you I know more about your girlfriend than you do. This one at times gets violent. I also do a cooking segment: Getting Cooked With Tequila Dave and The Tequila Dave Home Shopping Network. Now what I need is someone who's got the balls to help produce it. Unfortunately the pharmaceutical division can't cover that nut at this time.

6. As a lifelong New Yorker, rock legend and abuser of untold mind-altering substances, it makes perfect sense that you're a Category 5 Nebraska football fan. What's your routine for watching their games on television, and tell us about some road trips you've made to the Midwest to root on the 'Huskers.
Ya know, Paul, the Midwest has always been very lucky part of the country for me. I've always considered the girls of the Big XII the finest ass in all of college football. From Lincoln to Boulder, Ames to Austin, no one in the NCAA fucks as good as this group. Sure, the girls of the Pac-10 come close, but the Big XII babes rule. Many years ago I remember being in Lincoln and was invited to an off-campus student party. I was 26 at the time and thought to myself, "This is gonna suck." When I got there, it was A FAT ASS FESTIVAL. Babes, and I mean young ones with pigtails in cheerleader outfits and no panties, blasting shots getting wild, just getting CRAZY. Next thing I know I got myself a cheerleader on the porch of this house somewhere outside Lincoln telling she wants me to take her in the tail section. I was like, "Do you even know who I am?" I can't believe I didn't go to college. What the fuck was I thinking?

That's a good story, and I got a lot of those. On the other hand I remember being in Boulder on Nov. 28. 1997, when we lost, 24-21, and was pelted with oranges from drunken Colorado students. These cocksuckers were whipping them at my friend and me, and it really fucking hurt. I got nailed in the head twice. My friend was like, "We gotta get outta here." I was like, "Not before I knock one of these motherfuckers out!" Best part was, after the orange incident, my friend and me nailed two sophomores in our hotel room that night. I told both of them, "I can live with the loss, kitten, but you're taking this one for those fucking oranges!"

As far as a routine for game day, this is where it gets a bit weird. First thing you need to know, NO ONE will watch a game with me. When I wake up, I check the weather. Once I know the weather conditions, I can work on my game plan. Yes, I said MY game plan. Pre-Bill Callahan, I knew what I was going to do rain or shine. I had it all on my little clipboard. Now things are going to be different. Anyway, then I go over the depth chart at least five times. Once I know who I want starting, I'd email Tom Osborne and/or Frank Solich to make sure they were in the loop. Naturally, they'd never reply. I just assumed after all these years they were too busy. Two hours before the game I make a huge Italian hero and try to relax. I go over my personal playbook and see if there's anything I missed. I still have time to e-mail Osborne and/or Solich, and now Callahan so I'm cool. About 15 minutes before the game I get pretty nervous and I start stretching out, 'cause the last thing I need is to pull a hamstring before the game. On offense I put on my headphones and pretty much coach the game. I pace the living room back and forth screaming at the TV with my clipboard, wondering when the guys from Bellevue are going to burst through the door and take me away. I get very Osborne-ish however. Stay cool, keep an eye on the clock, keep chewing the gum. I've been watching Nebraska Football so long no one can believe I can see the formation and call the play. It's like they're really taking my advice. On defense I get into a rush position and pretty much spy the quarterback. I do a lot of screaming on defense. When I finally met Osborne, I couldn't even speak. I just stood there like a dumbass. I'd give my left ball to get that moment back. I got some questions for him.

7. What part of your arrest record are you proudest of?
Another good one. I'm pretty sure — actually I'm positive — I'm the only person in ROCK HISTORY arrested for stealing a cow. Ya know, back in the old days they would have hanged me for this one. I was in Florida many, many years ago on a mushroom-picking trip and, for some strange reason, I decided to steal myself a cow. I thought if Harpoontang owned our own cow, we could have mushrooms all the time. So there I am walking this cow down the Bee Line Highway at 4 a.m. I must say, I am kind of proud of that one. I mean look, anyone can get busted for assault or a drug charge. For the record, I'm not allowed in Florida anymore, not even for an Orange Bowl National Championship Game.

8. Which musicians would achieve a perfect score on your Rock Star Aptitude Test?
Four that come to mind are Ace Frehley, Ron Wood, Keith Richards and ME. Personally, if you can't pass my RSAT, you got no business being in ROCK.

9. What's the longest bender you've ever been on?
Wow, this one's tough, cause I theatrically could say 20 years or so, but in real pansy-ass terms, I'd say six months of just drugging, drinking and fucking was my longest bender. I believe that was the 1989 Harpoontang Costa Rica-Suriname Tour. And if I remember correctly, we were held hostage a week at one point during that tour, and didn't even realize it. I thought we were in a crackhouse hanging out. Then this guy says to me, you can go, you're free. I was like, "What? Give me another fucking hit asshole." Today, at 40, my benders are pretty tame in comparison.

10. What advice would you give to the Bush Administration in terms of weeding out terrorists in the Middle East?
Well if anyone over there in the White House replied to my e-mails, I would have told them exactly what to do. A matter of fact, I was in TAO one night picking up married women and Barbara Bush was there (not the old lady, the drunken kid) and just as I was about to tell her what to tell her old man, some gigantic dickhead tossed me on the floor and put his foot on my neck. I'm assuming it was one of Laura's goons. Anyway, lucky I like her. I believe I could've ended this thing in Iraq with no death or destruction (I mean for us) if only the United States was using Tequila Dave’s GOOP GUN and GOOP BOMBS. Expandable foam is the weapon of the future, people. If only we could goop the villains and hold them down like flies on fly paper until some nice boy from Georgia could identify them. Then, if it’s a bad guy, he can blow his fucking head off right there. And if it's a good guy, he can use Tequila Dave's Solution Gun to dissolve the goop and release him into the general public for goodness and civility. Ya see, there is a way out.

11. What are some of your favorite memories killing brain cells at American Trash, the Upper East Side biker bar?
Favorite memories of TRASH. If I answer this one wrong, I could find myself in a dumpster on Arthur Avenue with no kidneys, so I'm going safe with this one. I guess one of my favorite memories was the I Gotta Bang Her listening party. That was a fucked up night. A matter of fact, I was so fucked up, I don’t even remember it. All I know is for weeks people were walking up to me saying, "That was the greatest party ever — ever." I guess the best memories of TRASH are gone and buried. Wait a minute, there is this one story that comes to mind. One night Joetown and me picked up a lovely young bachelorette just days before her wedding. We penetrated her and naturally got her home before the groom called. But you wouldn't want to hear about that.

12. Are you still offering free CDs of The Day After You?
I will give out Harpoontang CDs — fill out this form to receive yours — until I save every last one of you motherfuckers. I will not allow another generation of America's youth to be lost and confused on CRAP. I'm 40 years old and probably going to die soon, there's no fucking way I'm dying before WE — that's you and me, take back what's rightfully ours — ROCK 'n' FUCKING ROLL.

Paul's Recap: That was incredible. I hope you readers are half as satisfied as the cheerleader who Dave met on that University of Nebraska porch. I'm sure she looks back at that experience as one of the greatest in her life. And think about how excited new 'Huskers coach Bill Callahan is about receiving e-mails from this guy on a weekly basis.

Now that you have been introduced to the world of Harpoontang, it's time for your full indoctrination. You are under strict orders to perform the following duties:

1. Visit TequilaDave.com. Download the music, view the photos, learn the true meaning of rock 'n' roll.

2. WE'RE GOING DRINKING WITH TEQUILA DAVE! Everyone is invited to happy hour at American Trash (First Ave. bet. 76 and 77 Streets) Thursday, April 22 at 7 p.m., where Dave will answer follow-up questions, sign autographs, make you laugh your fucking head off and drink more goddamn tequila than a team of illegal Mexican construction workers who just got off a 12-hour shift. E-mail me to let me know you're coming.