Birthday Was Actually a McCartney Song, but Fuck It

via:

"These critics with the illusions they've created about artists — it's like idol worship. They only like people when they're on their way up," Lennon said. "I cannot be on the way up again. What they want is dead heroes, like Sid Vicious and James Dean," he added in an eerily prescient screed. "I'm not interested in being a dead f---ing hero ... so forget 'em, forget 'em."

With Bruce Springsteen then the face of rock's future, Lennon expressed fear that the Boss would fall victim to the same kind of pressures as he did. "And God help Bruce Springsteen when they decide he's no longer God. ... They'll turn on him, and I hope he survives it."

Hey, you know who's not dead? Brothatime!! :)

Watching all the Super Bowl hoopla, I was just reminded of my high school days. Unlike pro qbs, the signal calling at our level was "down! set! go!" and we're off. The one "go" being called in the huddle as "on one", ie soon as you hear "go" start moving your ass. Now, if you wanted to be fancy and keep the defense on their toes, you'd go on two: "ready! set! go! go!" But. Our line being so fucking stupid, my brother could never call a play on two, cause we'd fucking jump offsides. Like clockwork. Once a year, first game of the season he'd try to call a play on two, but of course "down! set! go-" bam! we're running into each other while he has his hands on his hip, shaking his head in disgust. So from then on, always on one. Which I'm sure opposing defenses caught onto, which of course helped lead us to all those 48-6 (not as close as the score indicates) bludgeonings. Christ.

Another great move by the linemen was if my brother got sacked for a 15-yard loss, in the huddle there would be absolute bewilderment, as everyone SWORE they had their man. "I had my man!" "Yeah, me too!" "That's wild - I had my guy too! How did 8 different dudes break through to crush Brothatime!!? weird!" Every fucking time. And the beauty was that these brainiacs figured out a way to give themselves karmic justice; any time we did have a big play, maybe a 20-yard gain, back in the huddle everyone's like "whew! I completely missed my block!" Astutely guessing their uncanny honesty in a time of success would come to mind after the next play when a bulldozer would be called onto the field to dig my brother outta the ground after another jailbreak. "I had my man!" Good times!