71

Well, that's how old my dad would have been. In tribute, I'm blasting Billie Holiday in his honor. Given some recent ugly events at my place of employment, I think of him and his wit, his sarcasm, his sharpness and sometimes evil sense of humor. It suits me well at the moment. I thought of him all day today.

True, we had our difficulties, and yes, he went from the angry young man to the vengeful old teetotaler, but he did have principles. "Bullshit is just that. No two ways about it." I can hear his voice as if it were right next to me.

"What kind of 'stupid' are you?" That's another fave.

"I'm asking you a CIVIL question." Point taken.

"Gimme a friggin' break. Do I have the word "asshole" stamped to my forehead?" That one is quite fitting at the moment.

He's probably knocking back a few with pages of Baudelaire or Hemingway in front of him. The spine of the book is probably scotch-taped and dog-eared.

I expect nothing less. Neither did he, and that's probably why I feel so strong right now. What's right is right. Can't fool me on that one...