Certain facts are starting to sink in.

bananasI may be too old to be a Rock Star.
    I may not even want to be a Rock Star anymore.  I would have to travel the world doing drugs and sleeping with groupies…I don’t even know if my wife would put up with that.  I mean, she supports me and all, but that may be a little too much to ask.
   And drugs.  I am scared to death to do any kind of drugs, other than acid reducers or the government approved, and heavily taxed, alcohol.


Marijuana-No thanks!  I’m paranoid enough, I can already lay around for hours doing nothing, I always have the munchies, and many times I giggle uncontrollably at inappropriate moments.  I still think it should be legal, though.

Crank-I’m fidgety enough, and I already have trouble sleeping.  Although, if you never eat, do you really need teeth?

Cocaine-I’m not rich enough.

Crack-I’m not creative enough to come up with an elaborate panhandling story.  I think crackheads should be put into sales positions.  If there is a rock at the end of every appointment, they would be the ultimate closers!


LSD-Reality is tough enough without adding extra things that aren’t really there.  Let’s see, I can either…

A.  Worry about making ends meet.
B.  Worry about making ends meet and whether or not the one eyed, one horned, flying purple people eater in the corner is hungry.


I’ll go with A.

Ice-Nah, it makes my Coke flat.

Ecstasy-I’m not a very good ‘umph-umph-umph’ dancer, and I don’t even know where to buy glo-sticks.

I know there are many drugs I have left out, so I apologize to any junkies out there I may have offended.

Moral of the story:   If you’re gonna be a rock star, do it when you’re young.  Although, a beer gut does make it easier to see the strings on your guitar.
Keep on rockin’,
Talking Monkey

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