Well, two years ago today I was finishing up note taking for an OS Scripting class at RIT when the TA/Glorified Lab Helper came in to the room and told us that a plane had flown into the World Trade Ceter.

The rest, well, you know the rest.

And I'm not going to talk about that anymore.

I'm going to talk about Warren Zevon now. I never really knew Warren Zevon. At least, I thought I had never heard of him. But, thanks to a forum at fark.com, I came to realize that I have heard a Warren Zevon song before. I even played it at a hockey game, back when I was DJ'ing for RIT hokcey.

So here is the song "Hit Somebody"

He was born in Big Beaver by the borderline
He started playing hockey by the time he was nine
His dad took the hose and froze the back yard
And Little Buddy dreamed he was Rocket Richard
He grew up big and he grew up tough
He saw himself scoring for the Wings or Canucks
But he wasn't that good with a puck

Buddy's real talent was beating people up
His heart wasn't in it but the crowd ate it up
Through pee-wee's and juniors, midgets and mites
He must have racked up more than three hundred fights
A scout from the flames came down from Saskatoon
Said, "There's always room on our team for a goon
Son, we've always got room for a goon"

There were Swedes to the left of him Russians to the right
A Czech at the blue line looking for a fight
Brains over brawn--that might work for you
But what's a Canadian farm boy to do
What else can a farm boy from Canada to do
But what's a Canadian farm boy to do
What else can a farm boy from Canada to do
Hit somebody! was what the crowd roared
When Buddy the goon came over the boards
"Coach," he'd say, "I wanna score goals"
The coach said, "Buddy, remember your role
The fast guys get paid, they shoot, they score
Protect them, Buddy, that's what you're here for

Protection is what you're here for
Protection--it's the stars that score
Protection--kick somebody's ass
Protection--don't put the biscuit in the basket just
Hit some, Buddy! it rang in his ears
Blood on the ice ran down through the years
The king of the goons with a box for a throne
A thousand stitches and broken bones
He never lost a fight on his icy patrol
But deep inside, Buddy only dreamed of a goal
He just wanted one damn goal

There were Swedes at the the blue line Finns at the red
A Russian with a stick heading straight for his head
Brains over brawn--that might work for you
But what's a Canadian farm boy to do
What else can a farm boy from Canada to do
But what's a Canadian farm boy to do
What else can a farm boy from Canada to do
In his final season, on his final night
Buddy and a Finn goon were pegged for a fight
Thirty seconds left, the puck took a roll
And suddenly Buddy had a shot on goal

The goalie committed, Buddy picked his spot
Twenty years of waiting went into that shot
The fans jumped up, the Finn jumped too
And cold cocked Buddy on his follow through
The big man crumbled but he felt all right
'Cause the last thing he saw
was the flashing red light
He saw that heavenly light

There were Swedes to the left of him Russians to the right
A Czech at the blue line looking for a fight
Take care of your teeth--that might work for you
But what's a Canadian farm boy to do
What else can a farm boy from Canada to do
But what's a Canadian farm boy to do
What else can a farm boy from Canada to do