name: JACK CASH | affiliation: AM730, controlled by Ministry of Media and Propaganda job: PISSED OFF MANAGER | HIV+ | [ elle | zuberkock | tidal.volume@gmail.com ] APPEARANCE: i like to look like i know my business and party like a rockstar, yet maintain a hint of that corporate douche appeal when needed. i look good. it's good for picking up naive little fuckers trying to get their asses out of garage bands and into a studio. (HAHAHAHAHA. sorry.) it's good for interviews and press releases. it's good for making dumb little girls think i'm the shit. it's good for fucking, and that's really all that matters. i think if there were a god, he would make me too ugly to be in the music business. but maybe he's just as much as a dick as i am. BACKGROUND: don't touch me, you don't know where i've been. honestly, ladies and gentlemen, it's a matter of image as much as it is NOT your FUCKING business. when i was a young, supple boy, around 14 or 15 or 16 or some other quasi-legal quasi-tragic sort of age, i found myself getting pounded in the ass under strobelights and in carseats on a regular basis, and i loved it. i also found myself hanging around music people as an extension of spending too much time in seedy clubs. i found myself learning to play shitty instruments from shitty boyfriends, learning to DJ to get shitty one night stands and free club drugs, learning to mix and remix to make a quick buck, and then one day it all just happened for me. i was diagnosed with good old fashioned HIV. and i got a deal doing business with RESISTOR RECORDS. i think it was the same cheap fuck that got me both. i am truly blessed. AIDS has been great. i get to shit blood if i forget my meds, get extra sick days, and cultivate a public image of a man fighting against a pathetic, inconveniencing disease to pursue his dreams of making the most unoriginal damn top 40 singles the AU has ever heard. my job has perks like having to talk to a couple of vacuous fatsacks endlessly, railing against any notion that may come to their minds that involves 'good music', saying FUCK at least forty fucking times a day, and I WANT TO KILL MYSELF EVERY DAY. I WILL FUCKING DIE IF I HAVE TO HEAR ONE MORE RECORDING SESSION, REMIX, OR NOTE OF THEIR SONG JAWBREAKER. ACTIVITIES: i take pleasure in banging my head against the wall repeatedly, spitting copious amounts of vodka onto expensive recording equipment, bitching out what are quite possibly the dumbest popstars in existence, and then telling the press about how fucking GREAT it all is. great. when not tortured by my shameful profession, i like to write good music which no one ever hears, then get depressed, go drinking, and have plenty of filthy unprotected gay sex, mirthfully spreading my unfashionable venereal disease to a new generation of fuckups. STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: + magic with the press. + knows how to keep a pop band under control. + enormous trouser truncheon. + sarcastic wit coupled with a gorgeous sense of comedic delivery. - has AIDS. - has AM730. - has to keep both under control. - uncontrollable temper. - drugs, drinking, bareback anal.