Raiding My Medicine Cabinet (or Standing in Line at the Pharmacy)

Fuck Christmas, Easter, New Year's and all those other shitty holidays. Today is January 8 and to the uninformed, that means it's Elvis Presley's birthday. How old would he be? Not quite sure, but he'd be old. Ask an old woman in a cross-stitched sweater. She'll know. We're subjected to celebrations of all kinds, but a day like today passes unnoticed to most. Without Elvis, where would we be? Tough to say, but I know it'd be a much shittier place. He's been dead since '77, but is he really gone? I could argue Elvis lives each time I run grease and a blow-dryer through my hair. I'm no religious nutjob, but if we look close enough, it's pretty scary to see the comparisons between the King and Jesus. Is there a celeb worshipped more, even 30 years after his death? None but our Lord and Savior. So here's to you EP. Not sure what pills I have on hand to commemorate your birth, but I've got some Pepcid heartburn medicine. It's the thought that counts. Oh, and I suppose I should also send a Happy Birthday to Elvis' older-by-35-minutes twin, Jesse Garon, who died at birth. Jesse, we hardly knew ye. Although I treasure life as much as the next guy, you're better off. Besides, eventually you would have killed yourself once you realized how awesome your younger brother was and how you could never live up to that. I'm sure you woulda gotten laid like a motherfucker for a while there, but the come down woulda been a bitch.