There are several reasons for not interviewing Lewis Binford. So much has already been written on the most famous archaeologist since Childe that one may well wonder why another text or an interview should be added to the corpus. This holds especially true now that Paula Sabloff has published a series of conversations with the man himself (Sabloff 1998). On top of that, his own literary output has proportions that can easily discourage even interviewers of the most intrepid kind. With fourteen monographs, two edited volumes, 59 articles in journals, 34 chapters in edited books, and several dozen reviews, comments and other genres of academic publishing—and this is only the harvest of the previous millennium, the counter is still ticking—Binford is not only one of the most influential archaeologists of the twentieth century, but also one of the most prolific ones. Another good excuse for leaving your tape recorder home is that if his work has made such an important impact, it must by definition be already extremely well known among archaeologists. Why bothering about talking to a man if everyone already knows the content of his thought? Binford has become textbook knowledge, many of his articles have become classics and figure on undergraduate reading lists, his writings belong to the canon of twentieth-century archaeological thought. So, why bother? Finally, everyone who considers, or even just starts thinking about interviewing Lewis Binford will be warned by well-intending colleagues who tell you that the man has a notoriously volatile temper and that you are putting yourself at risk.