Top Regrets

Hey! I’m still around ya know. The Commies haven’t got me yet. Family issues have popped up recently and while handling those the olde blog here has been put on the back burner. 

The point of this post, with death on my mind, is to point out the Top regrets I have. Now admittedly I’m still fairly young so they will be limited to things I have no hope of accomplishing. 

Here they are, in no particular order:

Attend a show at CBGBs. CBGBs was a punk and New York institution for many years. The list of bands that played there could easily be the greatest ever at any venue outside NYC. Inside NYC only Madison Square Garden could compete. Odds are someone will try to reopen it eventually but there’s nothing like the original. 

See The Ramones live. The band that started it all. In my opinion, no band has been more influential. None of the original members are still alive but their music really does stand the test of time. Bands today still make a good living playing a sound directly influenced by the Ramones. 

Serve in WWII. Now I never had a chance of this happening. Whether storming the beaches in the Pacific, climbing Pointe Du Hoc on D-Day, or rolling through Germany to victory the Greatest Generation proved their worth. 

Explore the West. I don’t mean in a car on the highway. I don’t mean the Wild West. I mean earlier, Louis and Clark style. The idea of exploring wild, new, unforgiving terrain appeals to me greatly. 

Attend a Mike Tyson fight. The concept of utter domination fascinates me. In sports it takes a truly special talent to dominate a professional opponent. There are is a modern day equivalent, Ronda Rousey. Now no disrespect to Miss Rousey but nobody compares to Iron Mike, at least not yet. 

Watch Wayne Gretzky play hockey. I’ve actually met The Great One. He was an amazingly humble, nice man. I would’ve love to watch him in person, in his prime. 

Meet John M. Browning. Very few inventions stand the test of time. Browning’s guns are some of the things that have. 

This post is dedicated to my Mom who passed away on July 31 2015. A Mother’s influence, good or bad, cannot be matched. My Mom took me to get my first tattoo, my dad is still pissed. Bought me my first gun, he got over that eventually. Drove me to countless shows as a young punk rocker and never questioned why I came home bloody, sweaty, and stinking of stale beer. She was working class all the way and would never hesitate to help a person in need. If I strive to be half the person she was. 


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