Anyone who’s really known me, would certainly be aware that I’ve always been a die hard “Led Head” for over four decades. There are other great ones of course, Aerosmith, Doobie Brothers, The Allmans, Pink Floyd, Lynyrd Skynyd, Blue Oyster Cult, Rush, but none have superceded, in my mind, and don’t hold a candle to, what originally began as the New Yardbirds.
Through the 1980s and 1990s, fusion jazz, new age and ambient music were my choices airing throughout the day, but now in hindsight, I realize my heart is still in the music of the 1970s.
Will add more on this topic later – it’s bedtime for Bonzo!
Through all of these years you’ve been there right by my side. Early
on, I considered you a trusted friend, a confidant – through all sorts of experiences. You were present at my graduations, my weddings, and funerals, each and every major life-changing event I’ve ever known. Did you make things better? No! You put a fog over my eyes where I could not even recognize the importance of the event.
You’ve put to ruin each and every asset that I had been blessed with. Thanks to you, I can no longer hold down employment for any substantial length of time. More resources have been expended on your account in a matter of a few years than most people ever obtain in a lifetime. You’ve broken up relationships with the dearest of friends and my beloved family members, not to mention a couple of wives. You’ve downtrodden any form of quality of life for the pure sake of your want of power, control and your insatiable appetite for more and more dollars, only for a brief respite. You are the biggest of lies.
And I’m most certainly not the only victim of your curse.
You are the most destructive phenomenon in the history of this planet, far more dangerous than any of your cohorts, Henry Heroin, Cranston Crack, Marty Meth, and so on and so forth, mainly because you are condoned by society. It’s all about money and nothing else, pure capitalism. You used your influence to shit on the native Americans, keeping them so inebriated that they were handily coerced into signing over their sacred lands with the scrawl of an “x” on a flimsy bill of sale which was deemed adequate proof of agreement. And there was the Whiskey Rebellion over taxes imposed upon the evil sauce. Hell, you almost tore this country apart before it was even firmly established.
You are hereby discharged of your duties.
It’s been a real pleasure knowing you John, but it is most definitely high time for you to remove yourself from my presence forever.
You and “Spuds MacKenzie” can kiss my entire ass!
Stephen A. Dowell