Lew's Band Hunt Part IV: No Rules, No Chances

As I have made clear in the past couple of editions of Lew's Band Hunt, my band hunt has been very unsuccessful.

WHY?
Do I smell bad, is my shirt on inside out, or does the lightening bolt that I have shaved into the side of my head turn the people i am auditioning for off. It could be any of those factors or it could be that I am not good. Well, with that in mind, I continued my search. I have totally dropped the idea of jamming with the first band I jammed with, as they were totally unimpressive. The only reason that I actually jammed with them in the first place was because they subdued me with promises of an opening gig with Flock of Seagulls reunion tour. Bastards! Well of course the Seagulls gig never materialized and I walked. I told Pedro, Pattie, and Clark The Umpire goodbye [I never understood why they had a totally uniformed umpire in the studio with us but he repeadtedly shouted "BALK!" in my face and after the session he asked to check my sticks for cork], and i packed took my oakley sunglasses and moseied on back home. The second band I interviewed with is best described by Colonial Pryor as the Med Student 4. I met with them on a breezy Miami sunday afternoon in the sleaziest South Beach bar they could think of. After Juan Carlos, our transvestite butt slapper, served us our pineapple shavings, Neil [the frontman of the quartet who shared an uncanny resemblance to Jacques Cousteau] demanded the dead sea scrolls, then asked me if I had talked with Hampton the Whale latley. Under the impression that the last statment he had made to me was a metaphore, I simply noded and asked if I could listen to the demo tape of the band's stuff he had prepared for me. He seperated the thick fog of transexuality in that bar with an olde tyme 8-track player which scared me more than Juan Carlos after he showed us his scars from vietnam. Anyway, I popped the ole 8 track in they player [8 track players are built into every table in every resturant in Miami] and it turned out that I was just listening to Heart. I demanded that the music I was listening to was Hearts sophmoric album entitled Filthy Orangatwan, but Neil simply removed the monocle from he right eye cupped his hands around his mouth and blew a raspberry worthy of Colin Lesser approval. It made me seriously question the future of Medicine in the USA. [if anyone wants to move to canada, I hear they have socialized medicine and great falafel.]
Well that is the general synopsis of what has happened to date as far as my band hunt goes. I have a few options on the table right now.
Option 1) Ignite my drums and introduce them to matrydom.
Option B) Ask my girlfriend Sarah about that one.
Option 3) Join up with the Alanis Morisette band [seriously]
After much deliberation I found O.J. Simpson not guilty.

Status of Lew's Band Hunt: NO BAND!