[Rummyfan]

[Rummyfan]

After all, for the grizzled old hippies, folkies and peaceniks who spent the Sixties bellowing along with "How does it feeeeeel?" these have been worrying times. A couple of years ago, Bob's management were canceling his tours and the only people demanding to know "How does it feeeeeel?" were Dylan's doctors, treating him in New York for histoplasmosis, a fungal infection that in rare cases can lead to potentially fatal swelling in the pericardial sac. If the first question on your lips is "How is histoplasmosis spread?" well, it's caused by fungal spores which invade the lungs through airborne bat droppings. In other words, the answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind.

[Mr. K]

Reading Steyn makes you smarter

[Old Teufel Hunden]

I loved the line about Bob singing at Frank Sinatra’s 80th birthday and Frank thinking to himself he better cut down on all the late nights or he might start looking like that in 20 years. Hilarious!!!

[FreedomPoster]

Ping.

Steyn on Dylan. Brutally funny!

[zeugma]

Visiting America a few years ago, Dave Stewart, of the Eurhythmics, said to Dylan that the next time he was in England he should drop by his recording studio in Crouch End, an undistinguished north London suburb. Dylan, at a loose end one afternoon, decided to take him up on it and asked a taxi-driver to take him to Crouch End Hill. Cruising the bewildering array of near-namesake streets - Crouch End Hill, Crouch End Road, Crouch Hill End, Crouch Hill Road and various other permutations of "Crouch," "End" and "Hill" - the cabbie accidentally dropped him off at the right number but in an adjoining street of small row houses. Dylan knocked at the front door and asked the woman who answered if Dave was in.

"No," she said, assuming he was referring to her husband, Dave, who was out on a plumbing job. "But he should be back soon." Bob asked if she would mind if he waited. Twenty minutes later, Dave - the plumber, not the rock star - returned and asked the missus whether there were any messages. "No," she said, "but Bob Dylan's in the front room having a cup of tea."

LOL.

Bob's not all bad. He's more conservative than most beatniks

[Albion Wilde]

Twenty minutes later, Dave - the plumber, not the rock star - returned and asked the missus whether there were any messages. "No," she said, "but Bob Dylan's in the front room having a cup of tea."

This is one of the many things I love about Bob. This and the story of how he went walking in a beachside town in New Jersey in a rainstorm with his hoodie on— he had left his ID in the tour bus. He was intently looking at a house with a sale sign and some neighbor called the police, saying there was a homeless vagrant wandering around. A 24-year-old hispanic policewoman transported him down to the station for questioning because he didn't have ID. She didn't recognize his name, didn't know who he was or anything about his music, but he went along quietly, no fuss, and when he got to the station the older white cops were blown away.

[Squawk 8888]

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[BradyLS]

Seriously, I’ve never understood the appeal of Bob Dylan.

Part of it must be that _anyone_ can sing the way he can. And when you do a Dylan-mumble to cover something like Van Halen’s ‘Jump’, it’s laugh-out-loud hilarious.