This Sunday's devotion just left me in tears.
I know. I'm a weepy little old thing. Can't help it.
My, my, but the hymns were fine in Glastonbury yesterday when the Stones took the stage for the first time ever at that sacred event. And if the sermon had a theme, I guess it would be that rock and roll will never die.
The old boys just got off a grueling tour and jetted over to play the festival and for Christ's sake, Jagger is going to be fucking SEVENTY YEARS OLD in less than a month and it's not just a miracle of the highest order that he can still move like that with his tiny snake body, his big boots, it's unbelievable that he can remember all the damn lyrics.
All of them. Charlie Watts. God. Maybe. Maybe he is.
And of course Keith whom I love with a sickness. Onstage he is joy personified. He is there, truly and really and I feel fairly certain that there is no place he'd rather be than there, playing with his mates, making people happy.
And Lord, they made the people happy. I loved the crowd shots. Kids and parents and grandparents and Mick is lying like a dog when he says he can't get no girl reaction and everyone knew all the words.
Okay. Well. I realize I'm obsessed and so what? You can judge me if you want to or you can just laugh and either way, I don't care. I laugh at myself regularly. And no one can judge me the way I do myself.
Here's the whole damn one hour, six minutes and fifty-five seconds if you have any inclination and I feel pretty certain that no one does but whatever. My favorite part is, of course, the end where all the band gets together onstage to hold each other. They've been holding each other for fifty years.
And by the way- this only about half of the entire concert. To give us all a little perspective on things.
All right. I gotta go clean out the hen house. The poop is piling up.
It's Sunday and I've been sanctified and thus must now go perform my earthly chores.