My Personal Religious Holiday

Happy Birthday, Bob*. As usual, I baked a cake, and made a special dinner for you. As usual, you didn't show up. I suppose the fact that you haven't the faintest whiff of an inkling of a vague imagining that I exist is the reason you never come for your birthday dinner, but that doesn't stop me.

One day. One day I'll meet you outside my dreams. Not that I'm a stalker or anything. I'd never do that. Nosirree, Bob, not me.

But if you're ever in Miami and want a nosh, or a little drinkie, just give me a call. My door is always open.

*Dylan. Bob Dylan. Duh.
Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 05/24 at 11:22 PM in The Church of Rock & Roll


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