Tales From The "liberrycast"

There were only a handful of patrons I truly hated, most with good reason. However, one who pressed all my hatred buttons within seconds of meeting him was a guy I called Billy the Brainchild--well, him and a remarkably similar patron called The Expert). Billy was a guy out to make a name for himself in a variety of half-assed media business ventures of a pornographic nature.  His ultimate goal was to become Appalachia's version of Larry Flynt, minus the wheel chair and, presumably, the inflatable wang.  And that wasn't even why I hated him.  No, my ire was because his first step toward his goal (besides putting his bong down for one whole hour) was to come pester us for ways to achieve that goal.  But, naturally, a guy as smart as Billy saw himself didn't really need our help. He already knew everything there was to know about the business world; he just needed us to confirm it for him. And therein lay the basic conflict.