"So where do we start? I remember when we did The Dirt, the Mötley Crüe book, I was interviewed at The Grand Havana Room in Beverly Hills. A lot of people think I didn"t get to say much in The Dirt. It"s probably true. I didn"t read it. I"m not that big a talker. Some people can f*ckin" talk ... eat up all the oxygen in a room in no time flat. I don"t tend to run my mouth. It"s b*llshit. All those years in rehab and counseling--the talking cure? I can"t say I really got that much out of it. All that cure and I should be cured by now, don"t you think? All this talking... So forgive me if it"s a bit hard for me to slice open a vein and let my blood run red all over this page for you. I"ll fight you or I"ll f*ck you but chances are I"ll be hard pressed to sit there and talk to you. War stories. War wounds. I know, I know. Old rock stars fall hard. I"m forty-nine years old. I"m five-foot-nine, 170. The spandex is over. I"ve had three plastic surgeries. Still, who do you think gets laid more, me or you? But time does change a man. I ain"t twenty-one anymore. It"s a miracle we survived at all. A bottle of Jack Daniel"s and uncooked hot dogs do not make for a particularly well-balanced diet. We are all very lucky we didn"t kill ourselves. It might look like we were trying to do that but speaking for myself, death was never my intent. I just wanted to feel good, you know? I was just looking for that kick, that high... These days I"ve got businesses to run. I like the action. Something to get your heart pumping. Healthier than a syringe full of cocaine powder like I was doing back in "81 with my girlfriend Lovey, that"s for sure... But you got to admit...those days are a lot more fun to talk about..."