1. I am an Okie Down Under, in Auckland, NZ, who has been tragically deprived of life-giving Bruce for two decades. I need Bruce. I DESERVE BRUCE.
2. I have survived grief, depression, PR, rage, Asian Invasions and borderline insanity, thanks to the Boss’ healing music, which has also helped me do all my ironing for the last 20 years, with only occasional scorching, when I’m on Fire with a six inch valley through the middle of my soul.
3. Eli, my 24 year old, jazz-trained, keyboard-playing son, has been raised in a house filled with music that featured everything from the 20’s to today, including The Boss. But until Junior sees his pudgy bald daddy Dancing in the Dark with the Boss, and howling at the moon, he won’t fully understand the magic that is Bruce.
4. We are pet friendly. The Crack Puppy and Mayo the Asexual Bichon love live music. And Barking. Lots and Lots of Barking. Which I know that Bruce will just love when he checks into mi casa, about 6am, after the 10-million hour flight from L.A.
5. My back yard is primordial jungle. Think “adventure tourism.” We can rig up some bungees and zip line adventures, enjoy a BBQ on my back deck, and chill with brewskies before I drive him and the E Street Band to the concert venue, which is only 20 minutes away.
6. Despite his bionic hip joints, the Boss looks to be in pretty good nick for 62. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind digging a few post holes for the Missus’ Stockade Fence Project From Hell. No worries if it rains. Bruce can mop up the basement. We do “blue collar” around here, so he will fit right in.
7. Even better, when I am ironing my shirt and pants for the concert, instead of blasting his tunes on my Crapco portable CD player, Bruce can serenade me. I might even iron his clothes. And we should stop this paragraph right here.
8. Although my son (see item 3 above) is the greatest young musical talents in the known universe, he admitted tonight — after we watched Springsteen & I — that, if he were to be called up on stage at the 1 March concert, and given his BIG CHANCE, he would probably only know how to play Born in the USA. And for that, Bruce, I need to get down on my knees and personally apologize from the bottom of my heart. Where oh where did I go wrong?
9. HogsAteMySister is in dire need of a theme song. Something rocking but bluesy. With growls and pain and sweat. Blood even. And a bandana. With big biceps. And a tasteful gold cross earring. And, being a generous soul, I am willing to give Bruce the chance to write and perform that song on my blog. Live. If Junior can figure out how to live stream. And assuming he has learned how to play every Springsteen song by heart, and I have let him move back into the house.
10. And last but not least, to this day, I have some really bad VHS tape copies of the 1973 Norman High 4-A football Tigers, featuring HogsAteMySister at strong safety and Really Big Mouth on the sidelines. If there is not a hit record in that, well, I am no judge of great music.
Bruce, I’ll leave the light on for you. Sorry about the barking.
11. UPDATE. UPDATE. UPDATE. NO TICKETS AVAILABLE FROM TICKETMASTER. BRUCE, I AM DYING DOWN HERE!
UPDATE. UPDATE. UPDATE. UPDATE. WE HAVE BRUCE TICKETS FOR SECOND SHOW!!! AROOOOOOOOOOO0000000000000000000000000000000000000000OOO! WE BE DANCING IN THE DARK…