During the coming four years of a Trump administration, and possibly during the nuclear aftermath, I anticipate that I will at some point have to hug a crying child to my chest, wrap them in our last blanket, and show them these pictures of Bruce Springsteen and Clarence Clemons. They will be mystified that things like love and music once existed, and ask, "Are those men angels?" To which I will reply, "No, dumbass, that's Bruce Springsteen and Clarence Clemons live at the Main Point on February 5th, 1975 during one of the most legendary sets of all time. BRUUUUUUUUUCCEEEE."
In case you didn't know, friendship is basically the spiritual glue that holds the universe together, and no one epitomizes this like Bruce and Clarence. After Trump outlaws friendship, kindness, and rock-n-roll, we're going to have to look back at the past and remind ourselves that things weren't always this way.
"What is friendship?" says the wild-eyed child of the future, who is innocent and full of hope but sadly unable to distinguish between "Sad Eyes," a monologue that punctuated "Backstreets" on the 1978 Lawsuit Tour, and "Drive All Night", which is A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT TRACK off The River.
Well, first of all, I would reply, "friends" are people you get really close to.
Like really close.
Close enough that many people are sometimes confused.
And they really start to wonder about the both of you.
You get along and love each other no matter what. You also boop noses!
You also judge people.
People who are bastards and deserve it.
You twerk together.
You derp together.
You borrow each other's hats.
Except one day the other person might catch on and want it back.
You rub against each other contentedly like purring cats.
At least one of you can bring the gun show.
One of you can legally act as the other's psychiatrist.
Whenever someone asks, "Who's that really cool guy who plays the sax and is also like a surrogate God on Earth?"
You humor Little Stevie because he's weird.
I mean, Stevie punches walls for fun.