I wanna be your dog

I just got back from Wisconsin.

My dad was gravely ill with a really virulent staph infection.

My mom was gone, in Europe. She took a dear friend of the family to Europe for her high school graduation. (Yeah, my mom is the f-ing Bomb dot com.)

Dad is ok.

If I was granted a wish and was given the keys to any band to drive as fast as I want, my first choice would be the rooftop era Beatles with Billy Preston on organ.

Just me with a guitar, counting out one-two-three-four, in front of a microphone.

My second choice would be the Heartbreakers. Good God they are an awe-inspiring machine.

I saw them last Saturday. ZZ Top opened up. What do you think that tour bus is like? Bunch of guys, combing their beards and wondering when they last ate soup.

I also saw Roger Daltrey open for Eric Clapton. My buddy, Tom, scored some seats from these hedge fund guys that were about the 15th row, center. That was superlative.

I have basically quit blogging, but there are a few people who still read this damn thing, and I want you to know that I am still alive and doing the things that make my heart sing.

Goodbye.