This was my big day. Last night, Cinderella and I were at a bar listening to our next-door neighbor's band, The Coyotees. If you know me at all, you know how rare it is that I'm in a bar, but Big John was waling on his Strat. One of my neighbors got drunk and told me I was an asshole. About nine times. This is why you don't see me in bars. But David, my oldest friend from prehistoric days, had the same birthday two weeks ago. We are both, officially, TOO OLD FOR THIS SHIT. I am getting AARP stuff in the mail. Much to my delight, the DEA agent at our table (hey--I am an international man of mystery, after all) said to me: "Just wait till you hit your forties." Ha! Hahahahaha! I was way older than everybody there except, maybe, the band! My forties? That was so long ago, I need to consult a history book to remember any of it. My double-chin was older than some of the merry-makers. Probably even the lady who was calling me an asshole. Why do famous guys buy ranches outside Aspen and hide? When I go up the Big Rocky Mtn Valley, I won't be coming out. Maybe you can come by for a visit. If you get past the bikers and the wild boars I set loose at the front of the property. Then the next few acres I'm giving over to my FBI, Border Patrol, Chicago City Police, Mexican Beta coppers and DEA agent friends for retirement properties. I'll be way in the back--out where the mountains hit the lake, where you can see UFO's and meteorites cutting through the milky way; I'll be where the buffalo's snorting and the pigs frolic; Chayo wants giraffes, too. Maybe peacocks. Dave will be in the barn, where we'll hide the recording studio. Thanks for dropping by for by day, I appreciate it. I had my once-a-year slice of cake. Saw a great movie. Got some awesome toys--even got an ant-farm! Blessings--The Old Man

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