"OK, long story short: I saw the guy spit on a baby once. For no reason at all— the momma turned her back and EGW hawked back and spat a big slug of phlegm onto this baby's forehead. For real. A baby. The man spat on a baby."
Dave Nelson, Editor and Chief Technologist, Poor Mojo's Almanac(k)

"We never even really gave him a job, you know. We certainly haven't ever paid him. Not even the customary free beer we give to all of our writers. We hate him that much. He just barged into our office and threw down a sweaty manuscript, with little hairs sticking out from between certain pages. We refused to read it out of principle (Whose hairs they were, we'll never know. They don't match Erik's—red-headed sonofabitch... those hairs were black and thick not unlike the hairs of a human fly.) And ever since, it's like we've angered some pasty Norse God, and now we're serving out our sentence. Every few Wednesdays, just before we go to print, he appears and demands we run whatever filth he's written this week. He's horrible. He's why I moved away from Michigan."
Morgan Johnson, Content Editor and Demolitions, Poor Mojo's Almanac(k)

"That bastard left yogurt in his locker and then somehow managed to weld the door shut. No one even knows who hired him in the first place!"
Tom (full name withheld), Chief Technician, Giant Squid Resource Center, Cincinnati, Ohio

"I believe that someone by that name attended Macalester when I was there. It hardly seems possible that he was the same man as this... this man seems so young... I really couldn't be sure. But I can say that the Erik I knew was a thoroughly awful individual. I almost never openly judge people, but I can affirm that Erik was worse smelling than Boutros. And he used to eat cabbage as a snack. And raw horseradish. And sometimes I would come back to my dormroom and find that Erik had locked me out. Not that he was my roommate, but he managed to do it anyway. And always there was music playing inside. And women giggling. Several women. And he insisted on calling me Poindexter. I hated him."
Koffi Annan, UN Secretary General

"I blame Erik for my mysterious death."
Ambrose Bierce, Author

"I once saw EGW fuck Frank Sinatra. I know that I am burning a few bridges by telling you this, but I'm dying of loneliness anyway. The Chairman, indeed."
Ed McMahon, Talk Show Side-kick

"Erik Warren, John Malone, Steve Jobs and Larry Ellison have all been keeping Vladimir Putin's sister as a love slave in Idaho for the last fifteen years. The Priest, The King, The Wizard and The Fool. Sicker than you think. I know. I've seen it all. And the Minotaur. I am sick of all the lying and the hiding and the secrets. My teeth are talking to me and the sky is so close. Help, Ronnie, help."
Stevie Knicks, Pop Star

"I have found the human Erik Garner Warren to be thoroughly pleasing, to the degree that a human may please. Also, he is tremendously endowed, which is quite impressive for a creature not supported by the water's loving embrace."The Giant Squid, advice columnist

"That's the man who kicked my puppy. Are you going to catch that bad man?"
Little Virginia, Naive Little Girl

"Well, when I first met this Master Warren it was the year 1348. We had all made it well into the 14th century without much of a hitch until that bastard came along... all the way from China he had come, with rats and their fleas... Edward III bet me that this Scot monkey would be trouble. Lost two African opals on that bet, I did. A Scot monkey who had been to China!"
Comte St. Germaine, International Mysterioso

"So once I was in my dorm room brushing my teeth and I heard this voice yell from the adjoining room—see, I lived in a suite in college which was two separate rooms joined by a shared bathroom and in general I liked my suitemates so we kept the doors cracked open in the bathroom—so I hear this voice coming from Erik's room and I push open the door and step inside. On the bed, in the middle of the room, is Erik Garner Warren. He's flat on his back with his knees pulled up to his chin and he's totally naked. He grips each of his ass-cheeks and pulls them apart and starts laughing like a madman. And then he says, 'Dude, you saw my asshole.' He was so fucking weird."
Alan Ramirez, college senior

"I'm fairly certain that he was a triple spy. Working as you know for the Spetsnatz and MI-5. But as you may not know he also was a tool of the South African branch of the John Birch Illuminati. Playing every side against each other, don't you know. Crafty Bugger."
Robert Anton Wilson, pop author

"I rather like him. He's a convenient scapegoat for my own personal psycho-dramas."
Fritz Swanson, Art Director, Poor Mojo's Almanac(k)