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March 14, 2006

 
"Tender as a motherfucker, man..."
Best Rock Hall of Fame Dinner Ever!

At the induction ceremonies last night in New York, I stood at our table holding my Bic in the air. My thumb, sore and getting numb, fueled the lighter as I held its flame aloft.

Lynyrd Skynyrd were onstage playing Free Bird.

I, along with rock stars, celebrities, and the media elite, sang the chorus...

"Well I'm as free as a bird now
And a bird you can not change
And a bird you can not change
And a bird you can not change
Lord knows I can't change"

At the song's end, I cried...the tears unashamedly streaming down my face. It was one of those rare beautiful moments manufactured by the gods.

I pulled out my hankie and dabbed at my eyes. I composed myself.

A waiter came by and asked if I'd like another lobster tail. I'd already had seven, but yes, I would have another, thank you. I discreetly pushed a shiny quarter into his hand.

"Better make it two," I said. "Lynyrd Skynyrd exhausted me." I gave him a second quarter and winked.


I sat back down. Pat Benetar, Eddie Money, and Jim Torrison from the famous Doors cover band, Funeral Pyre, were at our table.

"I should be in the fucking hall of fame, man," Eddie muttered.

"I should be the singer for the Doors--fucking Manzarek," said Torrison.

"I should take another Vicodin. This is the worst case of irritable bowel syndrome I've ever had," Benatar said washing one down with water. I held my hand out. She gave me one and a dirty look.


The waiter brought my lobster tails. If heaven could be eaten, this is how it would taste. I et the first one hungrily, greedily. I wiped the butter glaze from my chin, and felt someone next to me:

Keith Richards stood six inches away staring at my lobster.


I didn't know what to say. I held the plate up to him. He picked up the tail, dipped it in butter, and took a healthy bite.

Keith closed his eyes and chewed slowly. Butter dripped onto his purple silk blouse.

Finished, Keith wiped his hands on his leather pants and pointed at my plate. "Tender as a motherfucker, man," he said and left.

He was right.


I finished off my lobster, left my last quarter on the table and walked off into the brisk Manhattan night whistling Free Bird.


A.) I heard Keith Richards eats lobster everyday
B.) I can't whistle after I eat lobster, it's weird.
C.) Lobster, Keith, Free Bird--you are one lucky bastard.


#

CoMMents:
You are one lucky bastard to have scored tickets to that party, man. I was supposed to go but the passes I bought on the internet said the dinner was in Cleveland. I wondered why there weren't more celebrities on the plane. I did see Drew Carey in first class, though. He was using his hands eating away on this big fancy first-class lobster dinner not unlike Darryl Hannah did in "Splash", when the stewardess politely asked me to return to my aisle seat by the toilet. Whatever you say, baby. Whatever you say. I thought they told that dude to lose some weight. If they didn't, they should have.

Anyway, it wasn't a total loss as I made a trip to the Pier or the Shore or whatever they call it and took in a show at Larry Flynt's Hustler Club. I met the cutest, youngest looking black stripper with hands so tiny they made my shlong look as big as Harry Reams' rod. She did me a solid in the VIP and it only cost me a buck-fifty.

Then it was on to Buffalo Wild Wings for dinner and some boombahs of icy cold Canadian Pilsner from right across the lake. It's funny, but as I was leaving I saw Drew Carey sitting with a table full of beautiful babes and another fat guy who was apparently competing with Drew in a wing eating contest. The chicks were cheering as the chicken was disappearing...hey, that rhymes.

The Flats...I think they call it the Flats.
 
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