I have a story about John Schmit. He came by my apartment one morning. . .I can’t remember why, but the idea was just for him to pop by for a second. My buddy Garrett had spent the night before sleeping on the couch. Anyway, John popped in, he had a paper sack with him and he proceeded to sit at my kitchen table and eat a bagel and cream cheese. He then whipped out two more, handed one to me, one to Garrett. Awesome, John, thanks, we said. How much was that, we asked as we grabbed our wallets. You don’t owe me anything, he said, so long as you both agree that I am the best at every thing.
The key was that he said he was the best at every thing. Not everything. Every thing. I’ll never forget that.
Anyway, here he is with a large fish.