There's Sort Of An Open Offer To

The Boyfriend Of The Student Music Teacher Came In: "hey, Kids, This Is A Real Air Force Pilot." I Asked Him Something To The Effect Of How It Felt To Be Dropping Bombs On Children In Vietnamese Villages. And It Got Very Icy In There All Of A Sudden, And Finally The Teacher Said, "oh, Well, Eric Reads A Lot Of Newspapers. Next Question."

I Was The Kid In The Class Who Was Looking For The Angles To Question Things Or Make Wise-ass Remarks, Not Knowing Enough To Be Afraid Of Being Myself Or Showing Intelligence. But I Wasn't The Only Kid Like That In My Classes Because Of Where I Grew Up. I'm Really Thankful I Grew Up In A Town Where There Were A Lot Of Other Mutant Kids. I'm From Boulder, Colorado, Which Went Through A Lot Of Dramatic Changes When I Was Growing Up.

Then As I Got Older, I Always Gravitated Towards The Hard Stuff, Born To Be Wild, Then Black Sabbath

If I Get Even Five Per Cent Of My Ideas Out And Documented Before I Die, I'll Be Lucky. I'm Not In Danger Of Running Out Of Riffs Or Ideas Anytime Soon. They Overwhelm Me And It's Hard To Find Time To Deal With Them.

I Would Hate To Have "holiday In Cambodia" Become As Tiresome To Other People As Hearing "like A Rock" In A Chevrolet Commercial.