So, like, always, because this is forever the only relevant part of the shtick:
Yesterday was the last day that neither of us was 60 fucking years old. Our friend Jim told us 47 days ago that this number is a state of mind, and he is not wrong, not even a little. The number doesn't bear on health or shared history or the ability to overlook whatever the fuck each of us chooses to overlook in the interest of continuing to entertain each other now and again, for as many years as we are able to do (that would be 50 years last June, and still counting).
I mean, his wife and kid are awesome too, but this day is his. Go there, wish him happies, he'll have better music than I do, because he still has the soul to energetically dig the music. My soul? Irrelevant here, mofos. Happy 60th, dogma-N. Stunned to be here, myself.