What's scorching your groove today?

[jimhelm]

thanks.

Biff is a lot like my brother Todd. or vice versa.... i guess.

He was the one that always got caught for doing the stupid shit young men do. So I guess it's in keeping that he would get caught by the C. I think it sucks though. I mean... 64 is old, and all....(no it isn't) but it seems like he should just live forever... I guess it's going to begin soon... my older generation fading or failing.... My dad is too heavy, but otherwise hale. his side lives into their 90s. mostly. I dunno, I think he burned his candle pretty well. At one time, when arcade games were new, and I was a kid, Biff held the misslecommand record score. I had the impression that it was like...national, but it was probably just the machine in his pool hall. 3 million. that just takes tenacity and a lot of beer.

damn. I gotta get down to Charlotte before he goes... before he's too sick from the chemo or whatever.... fuckity fuck fuck. It is a shit way for him to go. he should die n a 100+ mph car crash like Sam Kinnison. if he's gonna die, I mean.


bleh

[BigV]

Originally Posted by jimhelm

snip--

or whatever.... fuckity fuck fuck. It is a shit way for him to go. he should die n a 100+ mph car crash like Sam Kinnison. if he's gonna die, I mean.

bleh

Rock On Biff!

"Too Old To Rock 'n' Roll: Too Young To Die"

The old Rocker wore his hair too long,
wore his trouser cuffs too tight.
Unfashionable to the end --- drank his ale too light.
Death's head belt buckle --- yesterday's dreams ---
the transport caf' prophet of doom.
Ringing no change in his double-sewn seams
in his post-war-babe gloom.

Now he's too old to Rock'n'Roll but he's too young to die.

He once owned a Harley Davidson and a Triumph Bonneville.
Counted his friends in burned-out spark plugs
and prays that he always will.
But he's the last of the blue blood greaser boys
all of his mates are doing time:
married with three kids up by the ring road
sold their souls straight down the line.
And some of them own little sports cars
and meet at the tennis club do's.
For drinks on a Sunday --- work on Monday.
They've thrown away their blue suede shoes.

Now they're too old to Rock'n'Roll and they're too young to die.

So the old Rocker gets out his bike
to make a ton before he takes his leave.
Up on the A1 by Scotch Corner
just like it used to be.
And as he flies --- tears in his eyes ---
his wind-whipped words echo the final take
and he hits the trunk road doing around 120
with no room left to brake.

And he was too old to Rock'n'Roll but he was too young to die.
No, you're never too old to Rock'n'Roll if you're too young to die.

Very sorry Jim. very sorry. Look--go see him, you won't regret it (this story reminded me of you this morning).