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The Rebirth
Yesterday, the musician woke up around eleven o’clock and considered doing the laundry or jogging. Around noon he went to sit on the porch and watch the weeping willows sway in the wind. It was hot and humid and it wasn’t long before he took his shirt off, revealing his glistening sweaty chest. Like moths to a lamp they came, surrounding the porch and chanting his name. At first he was taken aback and tried to silence them with a humble smile. However, he quickly found himself warming to his newfound audience. He went inside for his guitar and the rest, as they say, is
History
However, since no one knows it except me, I will continue. The concert, of course, was a smash. But a new star was not born; an old one was resurrected. As the music ran through his veins, it reawakened old memories that had lain dormant for nearly a decade, since the crack at the end of the ’93 worldwide “Four-Legged Animal” Tour. Feast your eyes on forgotten memories.


When his first tour began, he could blend in with his fans before the shows relatively easily. However, that was soon to change.


The infamous “Village Raid of Canada,” in which he single-handedly held off a wave of barbarians, plunged him into the spotlight.


Here we see him being awarded a Bishopric in honor of his efforts.


This catches him stopping to smell the roses for one of the last times on his tour.


In this Mexican ritual, he is honored with the holy nectar of the natives.


Later, in Africa, he shows his appreciation to a couple of fans.


Some of those hardcore fans were willing to trek all the way on camel-back to show their support.


Finally, a candid portrait as he sits remembering where it all got started.

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