For the record, Norman Sandridge's wife, Kimberly, is a kickass lady with a charitable heart and soul. Their generosity towards me in letting me stay with them for four weeks this Summer was above and beyond what friendship normally requires. They spared me thousands of dollars in either dorm or gasoline/commute fees from my cousin's house (2 hours each way daily) in La Plata, MD (thanks again Robby for letting me stay there a week). I'm certain that I drove her crazy, but she never let it show.
As for Norman, well, we go way back, and in spite of an ill-advised friendship hiatus over Star Wars and ValuJet (the stupid shit we choose to take seriously sometimes!), we are as close as we ever were.
We both share an off-key love of live performance in basements. Since I can't be there to sing along with my buddy, here's a Beatles recording, done by yours truly, that doesn't make water fowl migrate. For you, old buddy, old pal--good times. Anyone else wanting a middling karaoke version of an awesome song, can click too: