Mark Hamer: Renegade poet, bar-room brawler, cold-blooded killer, amateur exotic dancer, defacer of Polaroids, painter of moments in time that slip through the brush strokes of dreams, drifting endlessly into the sepia-toned twilight of yesterday. (I'm sorry about that intro, but that is EXACTLY how Mark insisted I write it.) Does anybody really know Mark Hamer? Only his lady. And the wind. And maybe the guys in his fantasy baseball league. And his mom. And the Alabama State Police. But no one else.

UNTIL NOW! BEHOLD MARK HAMER'S FIRST INTERVIEW EVER!!!

DFS: Mark Hamer, how do you do it?
MH: I'm not really sure, computers do most of my work.
DFS: Are you related to all these people in the Polaroids?
MH: Just the handsome, vivacious ones.
DFS: What flavor of TV dinner is that?
MH: Meat.
DFS: What is that little girl holding?
MH: It's part of an engine, which part I don't know. I just paints 'em.
DFS: How much can you bench press?
MH: About as much as a 12 year old boy.
DFS: What do we have to give you to make you put up new Polaroids?
MH: I'm waiting for a sign. Hmm, maybe these buttons are a sign? Nah, probably not.
DFS: How has your daughter's life changed, since we made her a famous fashion model?
MH: Not much, she's a very grounded kid. She still puts her diapers on one leg at a time.
DFS: Who do you like more, Raz or Bagel?
MH: Well Raz always offers me food, and Bagel traded buttons with me so it's a close one. Man this interview is hard, can I go now?

Yes, Mark, you can go now. You can go home right now with all of your fans--pinned to their jackets, their hats, their hip messenger bags, their cozy hoodies. Just as soon as they buy your fabulous buttons!!!