A long long time ago, before computers, I returned home after serving in the Army.

I settled into civilian life, moving to Salem, Oregon and got a job manufacturing modular homes, working as a sawyer. In other words, I cut up enough wood to build seven homes a day! Six days a week, 10 hours a day and 6 hours on Saturday. It was very hard work, but I loved it. I made new friends and when we weren’t working our butts off we partied hard. It was 1977 and I was the guy sittng in the corner, on the floor, drinking beer, stoned out my mind and drawing and writing poetry, humor and other very strange stories. Well that was how it was back then.

One night, while I was with my buddies at an outdoor Biker camping party that last ed three days, one of the guys that I worked with introduced me to his older bther, who was staggering drunk. He asked me, “Hey, what’s yur name, dude?” I replied, “My name’s Ed.” “Zed? Never met a Zed before, Nice to meet you Zed.” “No, not Zed, it’s Ed Griswold.” I kept trying, but no use. He kept on insisting I was nice but a little weird and contined with “…nice to meet you Mr. Zed Greaseball.” So I gave up and smoked a couple of joints with him and forgot about it.

When Monday came ,we all stumbled back to work and got buzy. after a couple of hours, an anoucement came over the loudspeaker… ” Will Zed Greaseball please report to the carpenter department. That’ Zed Greaseball… we need more lumber right away! Zed Greaseball” The carpenter department was on the other side of the building and nearly everyone I saw was laughing hysterically. The name stuck.