Long Live the King: 30th anniversary of the passing of Elvis

Tomorrow marks the 30th anniversary of the death of Elvis Presley, the King of Rock and Roll (unless you're one of the Reformed Orthodox adherents who believe in his Resurrection).


I was seven when he died; old enough to be sad about it, but not old enough to understand what killed him.


Some people prefer Elvis Impersonators who personify the young, skinny Elvis. Personally, when it comes to Elvis Impersonators, I favor the fat, dissolute ones. You know, satin jumpsuit so tight that you can see their mooseknuckles beneath their ponderous guts, high as a kite, slurring "Love me tender" through a mouthful of prescription pills and half-masticated cheeseburger, and with a bevy of barely-legal hookers in leopard print hotpants flocking to the stage.







That's the King that I want to remember!


The King is Dead. Long Live the King.

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