After an unsuccessful casting attempt in the 1999 Blockbuster "Muppets From Space," Travis fell into a long and grueling depression that would last for an entire twenty-one and a third minutes, resulting in the consumption of nearly a full teaspoon of Häagen Dazs and four pieces of popcorn. Coming to terms with his defeat at the hands of the Hollywood major motion picture industry, he set into motion a plan, once which begun, would yield no return - He was to learn knitting.
A knee-jerk reaction to his new found passion for thread, Travis was forced to join a band to escape the hustle and bustle of the contemporary rat-race to find time to hone his half-double crochet technique in dark and sweaty vans destined to drive the baker's dozen of highways that stitch across Canada.
In the 1600's, Dorian was a respected elder of a small, eventually to become Ukrainian town near the Belarus border. Sensing untold gains were to be made across the once-limitless Atlantic Ocean, Dorian commandeered a Spanish vessel and set sail for the New World. There, he set upon the trail laid by Juan Ponce de León and through a few loaded games of Russian Roulette, Dorian found himself basking the the waves of the Fountain of Youth. With his new-found longevity and immortallity secured, he set forth on an adventurous journey as a nomadic hat connoisseur, a dream he had long harboured but could no longer deny.
Throughout the ages, Dorian has spent his time collecting the nearly black knowledge of head wear; his encyclopedic expertise, combined with ancient wisdom, has transformed him from a mere man into a serious force of reckoning, both animated on the stage and passed out cold under any table of various bars and other establishments where that sort of thing is generally frowned upon.
What's that smell? Oh, don't worry, it's not the unsettling oder of rotting decay that preempts an impending E. coli epidemic, it's just Pike, the least reliable and long-standing weakest link of the band. From an early age, he spent the most of his waking hours gluing himself to a chair in his room with a combination of sweat, spilled Pepsi, Doritos crust and other more unsavory substances that have no place to be mentioned here. This lack of social development, in tandem with an unreasonable sense of entitlement, make Pike a piss-poor musician and even worse drunk. Most people have come to avoid speaking to him and have reported they are better off for it.
Pike finds himself in Talk·Sick only by the grace of the other members' sheer apathy and an inability to make and maintain real friends. Without them, he would have nobody to drink with; without him, they would have... Happiness, probably.
Just when you thought a such a gathering of degenerates couldn't possibly get any worse, fate conspires to throw "Lights Out" Jesse into the mix! Having spent great deal of time listlessly drifting to various hardcore shows without much direction in life, an attempt to throw out his Tough Guy mixed CD's reveled Jessie's innate knack for catching flying discs - With purpose renewed, Jessie set out to become an international Ultimate Frisbee champion!
All those years of windmilling and floorpunching experience could not just simply be left behind, so he began to play drums as "additional cariovascular training," claiming that "drummers look good in basketball shorts." While we'd like to believe there's some truth in those statements, to date, nobody seems particularly convinced.