Was asleep for a grand total of two hours before the dogs decided to do their chain barking thing- You bark, now I’ll bark, now we both bark, now you bark, now I’ll bark, now we both bark, hey, wtf were you barking about? I dunno? You? Tag, you’re it. Meanwhile, Tunch scratches the shit out of me running for cover, I wake up and relieve the aged bladder, can’t fall back asleep, and here we are. So I started listening to music:
I can’t remember if I ever told you about the time Todd Rundgren called me an asshole or not. It was in the summer of 87 or 88 back when I was a long hair working as a roadie for a company called SMAVSCO (Sandy Margolis Audio Visual Company) out of Hyde Park, NY, with my best friend Jason Adams, and we were both basically stack monkeys, erecting the speaker platforms and climbing the structures to hang lights. At any rate, one July 4th we ran the sound and lighting for the days events at Woodstock, and after all the shows were over, Jason and I were left, stoned to the bejeezus, to play this pre-planned speech of inspirational jingoistic bullshit over the beginning of the fireworks. I was at the soundboard, running volumes, as the “ask not what you can do for your country” and the “They’ve left the surly bonds of earth” and other quotes from Presidents overplayed the beginning of the fireworks, and this douchebag came up and proceeded to dress me down for playing music and speeches over the sonic booms of the fireworks, called me an asshole, and left. I looked over at Jason and said “Was that the dude from Utopia? WTF?”
It was. So there was my brush with greatness.