As busy as I claim to be, I've still got the greatest job in the world.

Cool things happen. Ace's guitar flies through space, goes through a hole, and blows up. I throw drumsticks and they come flying at you.

We're much more controlled now. We were kids back then, we each had our own demons. It was insanity.

The magic's back and we're in a time tunnel, feeling like when we were in our 20s back in the 1970s.

Taking care of your body, that's where my money's at.

My parents survived the Great Depression and brought me up to live within my means, save some for tomorrow, share and don't be greedy, work hard for the necessities in life knowing that money does not make you better or more important than anyone else. So, extravagance has been bred out of my DNA.

The desperately poor may accept handouts, because they feel they have to. For those who consider themselves at least middle class, however, anything that smacks of a handout is not desired. Instead, they want their economic power back.

When you hit the big time, big money, big egos, people don't talk. You have no friends.