Today is the last day of Bruce's 50's, a shockingly productive decade for him. Not MEMORABLE in the way his 20s might've been - there's no Born to Run, and nothing's gonna make you cry like Backstreets. But since he turned 50 Bruce has un-retired his band, played what has to be 1000 shows all over the world, none of which were under 3 hours, put out one GREAT album (The Rising), 2 REALLY GOOD albums, (Devils & Dust, Magic), an awesomely fun album of folk standards (The Seegar Sessions) and another one you can but at stores too (Working on a Dream,) come out front politically for first John Kerry and then Barack Obama, and just for kicks played the Super Bowl. All while raising some kids, going through the now once-yearly ritual of some dude telling the Jersey papers Bruce is banging his wife ("they became buddies at the gym"), losing the Phantom, watching his rhythm guitar player possibly become more famous than himself, as well as The Big Man grow to 1100 pounds. Helluva fucking decade.
Oh yeah - and he met me & Op. I'm sorry, is that a big deal? Cough.
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