Yeah, it was terrible. Poor Charlie.

Started like a month and a half ago. He and his girlfriend were cleaning up the apartment, so she sticks her Hootie and the Blowfish CD into his Dreamcast and slams shut the door. So, you know, her music is blasting and they're vaccuuming and doing laundry, and after it played once he goes to take it out so he could fire up some Limp Bizkit and sure enough his Dreamcast was jammed -- I mean, solid. He even had it upside down and was shaking it.

So, she says, "That's okay, we can listen to Hootie again." And Charlie -- he pretends it's okay, you know? He's singing, "Hold My Hand" blah blah along with the CD but deep down inside he's worried, you know? Worried that he won't be able to play Crazy Taxi that night.

Right about this time me and Joey and Thom all got Phantasy Star Online, that cool massively multiplayer Dreamcast RPG. Charlie, you could tell, he was dying to play. He would watch us for hours, twitching. But he gets home and all he's got is Hootie. Now, he doesn't say anything, but it's driving him nuts. His girlfriend, meanwhile, doesn't mind -- since it's jammed in there, she just keeps listening to it over and over, right?

Charlie's goin' berserk, he can't play any games. Resident Evil? Hootie. Tony hawk? Hootie. Hell, Ecco the Dolphin? Hootie, Hootie, Hootie. He can't afford to take his Dreamcast to the shop down the street, 'cuz he spent his last penny mail-ordering Phantasy Star Online.

Finally PSO arrives in the mail, and he tries to crack his Dreamcast open to play. But the more he fiddles with it, the louder Hootie gets. Hootie, Hootie ... so much Hootie. He can't take it anymore. He starts beating his Dreamcast against his knee, and Hootie's skippin' all over the place. "Ho-ho-ho-hold my ha-ha-ha-hand" -- aw Charlie, Charlie went berserk. He was in the fetal position weeping and cradling his PSO CD. That's where I found him.

Hootie can do things to a man. Terrible things.