Looking Back, Maybe It Wasn't Such A Good Idea...

Every child has a fantasy about what he wants to be when he grows up. For some it's astronauts, for some it's a fighter pilot.

I wanted to be a rock star.

To be adored by millions, to have girls throw themselves at my feet, to be able to live a lifestyle made up of wine, women and song, making millions along the way, THAT was the life for me.

I would own a huge house, I would have a fleet of cars with large engines and Italian and German pedigrees. I would travel the world and throw a temper tantrum if ever I found a brown M&M in the bowl.

My wife would be a young, nubile GORGEOUS television star and men all over the world would envy me. We would have a child and I would name him "Wolfgang"...just because I could.

If any of my band mates pissed me off, I'd throw them out of the band. My band would go through multiple incarnations, each one getting progressively worse.

Then I would become an alcoholic who lost part of his tongue to cancer, have a hip replacement and lose my beautiful wife all before I turn 50.

I would cease to put out new music (because nobody in their right mind would work with me again), but would keep repackaging all of the music I made when I was young, cool and relevant, knowing that my fans would buy that 14th "Best Of" album if only I would add one new song to the 19 old songs on the album.

Then I would show up at some awards show where pictures would be taken and, subsequently, would be ridiculed by some asshole blogger in GEORGIA (of all places!) who, growing up, envied the life I had.

I hate to quote a country song while I'm eulogizing the youthful, butt-kicking Eddie Van Halen but, "Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers..."