We ran into the Man in Black on the streets of the Lower East Side. He wasn't crooning with cowboys. He was hanging out with the the wasted, the scum, the unwanted.
We couldn't believe someone tossed him to the curb. As we pondered how we'd carry him back home, a dude stopped next to us and said, "Whoa. if you don't take him, I will." Sorry dude, we're taking Johnny back home with us . . . straight into our bedroom.