Sunday, April 2, 2017

Burn Bras Not Books

We're down to the last three. Jerry Lee, Fats and Little Richard. Nobody has drunk more rabidly and more gloriously from the fountain of rock'n'roll than I have. Nobody.

Oh, there are those annoying nuts who can rattle off the matrix number of every Benny Joy b side on Antler and your cousin on your father's side who saw the Who open for Herman's Hermits and the Monkees and will never let you or anyone else ever forget it.

I'm no authority on anything. Love is my business. Rock'n'roll is my soundtrack. 

No comments:

Post a Comment