Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Elvis was a Bad Ass

Having recently parlayed my "Paul Stanley" hairy chest, prescription sunglasses, and $100 jumpsuit and wig into my own personal spin on The King of Rock-N-Roll, I feel somewhat compelled to blog about Elvis. I mean this dude was the definition of bad ass...when you can eat peanut butter and banana sandwiches, burgers, and BBQ pizza and balloon-up to nearly three bills - and still get super-model p*ssy, you really are The King. Ann Margaret? Tapped it! Natalie Wood? Knocked the bottom out of it!

Elvis could wear whatever the f*ck he wanted too. If I could pull wool like that wearing an open chest bedazzled white jumpsuit, I'd probably never wear anything else. (Editorial note: remove the word "probably").

And what about the Memphis Mafia? Keeping your cronies close is always a good idea (note to Poon: remember the little people on your way to the top). Elvis even had a dude who carried a cigar box with everything he might need at a given moment in time (thin cigars, Viseine drops, gum, hard candy, chocolate, uppers, downers etc.). Although pure speculation, I am pretty sure the d & d staff cigar box would contain the following: rodent nail clippers, gum, roofies, industrial size bottle of knock-off cologne ('cause you never know when a gas station will run out), ball gag, beads manufactured for an as-yet unknown purpose...you know - just the basics.

To further illustrate how bad ass he was, let's recall his trip to Nixon's White House to visit the president in order to discuss anti-drug legislation...while he was stoned to the Bejesus Belt. Balls of steel on that King of Rock-N-Roll, I tell ya.' Nixon even gave him a stinkin' badge - despite the fact that he really didn't need it.

Aside from the whole impacted bowel heart attack on the toilet thing, I think I'd walk a mile in The King's shoes.

Thank you...thank you very much!

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