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Volume 1 #11 September 13, 1999
Eric Clapton's feet. I know this is a strange way to begin a column. But it will become relevant. I promise. I was channel surfing the "Telly" one night and I came across Clapton performing the first "Unplugged". I must inform you of the fact that I hated him for, at the very least, three decades. I am a dedicated Beatle fan and every time George had something I always thought Clapton wanted it. They even shared a wife! By the way old "Rabbit Teeth", as my best friend and I so "affectionately" refer to her, was so pleasant to live with George drove his car into a tree trying to kill her and nearly him. Fortunately, George survived. Unfortunately, so did "Rabbit Teeth"! That didn't work. A divorce did. Eric got his wish. He married Patty Boyd. That didn't last long. She immediately got fat! Whoa! Does that satisfy a bunch of my dreams! I think it shattered a lot of his. (I don't know how long they were married.) Finally, Eric wised up and divorced her. Let's get back to the original theme of this intrigue. Clapton's feet. I told you the MTV thing. There Eric was. So nattily dressed and wearing his neatly laced up shoes. He was singing "Walkin' Blues" and was tapping his feet. I was consumed. I am a new born Clapton devotee. I am constantly proclaiming to anyone who will obligingly listen that he is the greatest lead guitarist in the world. Just listen to George's CD "Cloud Nine". You will be treated to the greatest "Axe Off" in history! When my significant other came home that night, I said to him: "Eric Clapton is the greatest lead guitar player in the world." He froze. The little guy was road kill. He was so shaken by this that he looked at me like the family outcast I've always been. If you don't change with the times... however that saying goes... you are condemned to repeat history. (I think a few philosophers just turned over in their graves.) All my little dude said was: "I think we need to get you into therapy"
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