Last week, on Welcome Wagon. Cue montage.

Hello. I'm Johnny and I act. Most of my films lately have involved wigs and dental appliances and I couldn't be happier about that. If I can get them to sign off on fake noses and ears, I'll be halfway to my happy place. (I call it Vegas. No relation.)

I cultivate that ill at ease feeling for aesthetic effect, but then I get excited about something and it all goes to shit. I'd be embarrassed about that, but that would require at least a trace of shame. I had that surgically removed while I was on the lam after that incident in Knoxville. I hand out nicknames like Mr. T handed out ass whippings and I will most likely make you wonder how I can get so damned worked up over something like bees or a Serge Gainsbourg song. I've always felt more at ease with the strange, and I suppose that's why I count Marlon Brando, Hunter S. Thompson and Marilyn Manson among my best friends. I keep secrets and I tell my own if I trust you, sometimes even within the first five minutes. My kids amaze me every day and it's impossible to feel arrogant when they're in the world outdoing me at just about everything. I have a 2am list and it's shorter than you might think. I'm really never trying to get one over on you because it just doesn't occur to me. I want to know everything about everyone on my patient days, but they're rare gifts, as much as I regret that. I appreciate honesty over "cool" every time, and if you fall on your ass, I'm far more likely to get down on the floor with you than laugh at you. If you can understand that, you're halfway here. And I just listened to Lovely Head four times in a row since I started this thing. It's one of those nights.

I guess my resumé is a matter of public record, but my number's unlisted. It's Colonel Depp Sir, a tribute to Hunter, who used to call me Colonel. See? We're sharing secrets already.