The BobboSphere: Don't believe everything you think.

One of our jobs as old fogies is to pass down our experiences to ­new generations in the hope that our stories will help them create their own. I don't know if this 1968-to-present day slice out of my life will be useful to anybody, but I'll toss it out anyway... I heard the loud thumping of footsteps coming up the ­basement stairs of my parents' home in Silver Spring, Md. Something was very wrong. My girlfriend Marie appeared at the kitchen entrance, distraught and out of breath. Martin Luther King has just been shot dead in Memphis. It's all over the news. Come downstairs. Now. ­ A terrible primal rage boiled up from somewhere deep in my consciousness. Not Martin Luther King. Not King. For God's sake, not him.

I stood for a moment overcome by a terrible anger then said," They're going to burn America to the ground tonight. And I'm glad."

I wasn't kidding.