And to top it off: he’s still alive and fairly coherent.
God bless him
I once had a dream when I was married to my first wife. I dreamt that one day I ran into Keith Richards and we struck up a conversation. I invited him over to my house and, as I peppered him with questions and pressed for stories about his passed, I tried to loosen his tounge with my only bottle of Cutty Sark and a six pack of Red Stripe beer. I also let him smoke anywhere he wanted, even after he littered the carpet and furniture with ashes.
By the time midnight rolled around, my ex-wife had enough of Keith’s stories and retired to bed. He, on the other hand, continued to tell stories and, as much as I hated to consider it, I found myself growing tired too.
But one does not kick out Keith Fucking Richards, so I boldly suggested that he retire with me…In the same bed that my ex-wife and I shared. There we were, much to my ex’s annoyance, all three snuggled in bed with Keith still telling stories in between the ex and me. He coughed a lot and shook the bed with each one, but his snores were even louder.
And, regardless of how much trouble I would be facing after the fact, I would totally do the same thing if the opportunity ever presented itself.
Keith Richards was born on this day in 1943