I heard that you have every good track, ever released,  by any artist, on your iPod.

I heard that you had season tickets for the 1993 Chicago Bulls season.

I heard that you have a compilation of every MIke Tyson fight, ever.

I heard you were there, at Cornell, on May 8, 1977, when the Grateful Dead played.

I heard you found the guy who stomped Reginald Denny, and you made him kneel down and call you "Big Ernest."

I heard you were there, at Cape Canaveral in 1986, when the Challenger disintegrated.

I heard that you killed a deer, brought it back to your apartment, and skinned and gutted it in your shower.

I heard that you put a high-rise manifold on your ski-boat.

I heard you were there, in 1989, for the San Francisco earthquake. I heard you were on the Cypress Overpass.

I heard that you came out of a Buddhist monastery wearing jewelry and a tracksuit. 

I heard you were there, at the Factory in Manchester, for all the Joy Division shows.

I heard that Dick Cheney pays you street tax, so that Blackwater can operate on your block.

I heard you were there, when Will Clark had his first at bat, and hit a home-run off Nolan Ryan.  I heard you got the ball. I heard you gave it to some kid in a wheelchair. I heard he's still alive. 

I heard you were there, at Jonestown in 1978, mixing the Kool-Aid.

I heard that you lived in the projects because you wanted to do something real, something relevant, because you wanted to feel connected to humanity.

I heard that when you put on after-shave, the steam rises off you.

I heard you were there, at Purdue Pharma in 1996, when they came out with OxyContin.

I heard you were there, at Candlestick Park in 1981, when Dwight Clark caught that pass from Joe Montana.  

I heard you were there, in a white Ford Bronco, going north on the 405.

I heard that you don't eat anything but meat and 40's.

I heard that's your real hair.