Pants descending a staircase

Lamby and I had a delirious time doing the Frug with Mr. Bowie last night. That man is the epitome of “well-preserved.” A work of art. I wish I could say the same for the crowd. Everyone else apparently trucked in from Worcester. It is quite possible that they were expecting a Monster Truck show. It is also quite possible that they were all a bunch of randy bi-sexual drug addicts 30 years ago, as they sat stolidly through newer material but popped up like weebles for “Ziggy Stardust.”

I am adopting a new world view, a real seismic shift for me. It is tentatively titled “What Would David Bowie Do?”


Me: I don’t feel like going to the gym today.

Me: *snaps rubber band on wrist* What Would David Bowie Do?

Me: Houseboy, summon my personal trainer, and my cosmetic dentist, just for the hell of it!

This is sure to work wonders. Let’s try that again.

Me: I don’t have enough money

Me: *snaps rubber band on wrist* What Would David Bowie Do?

Me: I know, I’ll IPO!

To that end, I’m going to start selling email addresses and premium memberships at $100 a pop. Look for Lambchop and I at the next show in June, waving a glittery pink banner reading “PANTS.” You could join us!


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