I got to read some of a letter from St. John to the Phillipians in front of a bunch of sad peeps yesterday. The planet Earth lost a good man and we said goodbye to him. RIP James Francis Herold III.
Here's one of the myriad stories of him:
We were in Phoenix for some event in 1998 or so, and we were taking the edge off something at a watering hole near the hotels we were staying at.
Jimi, for reasons we didn't know then and now will never know, wore a construction helmet festooned with decals of SAC/NORAD's 90th Strategic Missle Wing. Where and why he got it are also lost to the ages.
He was, as usual, very gregarious and convivial that night. He approached every table and offered greetings and salutations.
He saluted and toasted all, but when it came time for clinkeys, he'd bow his protected cranium and offer up his helmet for cheers. Steins, highball glasses, beer cans, beer bottles, knuckles and the like would clunk, clink, clank, clang, peal and thunk. All would laugh.
That was our man. That was our Jimi.
We have one meeelion great memories of him. The only thing that sucks is that there will be no more coming.
... but there's a lot in the tank. We love you, brother.
Tonight - Club Deluxe.
Five buck-cover for them minsky peelers burlesque gals tonight. Go.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
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