charoco

I grew up in South Florida in the 80s, worked at a McDonald's close to one of those Heaven's Waiting Room kind of communities. Would see those tattoos more days than not -- mostly women.

No one really talked with them about it, but there were a couple whose face would get this weird look if they caught us looking at it -- kind of like a sadness mixed with pride.

Honestly I'd feel a little guilty when it happened like I was forcing them to think about something they probably have to spend a lot of energy blocking out. But then I'd like to think it got them thinking, "Yeah motherfuckers, you locked me up, killed my family, but here I am eating a Filet-O-Fish and later I'm gonna play some bingo so you can suck my left tit."

Getting an award for saving someone's life has got to make every other award pale in comparison.

longer lines at the Taco Bell drive thru.

IIRC, positive vibrations travel at the speed of light, so should reach Boston in approximately .05 seconds from Sydney.

Scott,

I was in the front (can't call it a row as there were no seats) at a show in '87 or '88 at the Cameo Theater in Miami Beach (opening acts were Exodus and Celtic Frost). All three bands were awesome, one of my favorite concerts ever.

In the middle of Indians, a bouncer got a little too rough for your tastes with a kid trying to stage dive (incidentally a friend of my brother).

You pounced on the bouncer, a melee erupted on stage and you guys took off for a couple of minutes. The dust settled, you came back out and picked up the song at the War Dance part. We always though it was cool how you stood up for your fans to the point of interrupting a show to protect one of them.

Anyway, my question is this: Why did you blow me off on the field at the Orange Bowl during the Monsters of Rock show in the summer of '88 (I believe during the Scorpions' set)? All I wanted was a high five but you had this big goon who wouldn't let me near you. It made me sad.