A man died and soon after, went to Heaven. He discovered Heaven was an endless hallway with doors to the left and right. On the door was your I.Q. number. He went to door 160, and found the people there talking about quantum physics. He slammed the door and went to door 120. He found the people there trying to figure out as many decimal places of pi that they could. He shut the door and went to 80. He found the people in there talking about lastnight's Packer game. He thought to himself, "I'll come back to this one later," and shut the door. He walked all the way down to 16, and found the people in there talking about Sunday's episode of "King of the Hill." He shut the door, and went to door 7. He foung the people in there drooling on each other. Lastly, he went to door 3. He opened the door and heard one of the people say, "My sticks were Zildjian, what were yours?"

I can't put into words the importance that these guys' music has had in my life. It's a shame that we've lost Levon, but it was a miracle that he got his voice back for a final couple of albums and a few years of amazing shows. I feel privileged to have seen him play during that period, but will always regret that I never made it to a midnight ramble.

In case anyone cares, here's me playing Ophelia with some folks a few years ago as part of a tribute set (I'm on keys). It's a little rough and tumble but we had a blast:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a-HGSL4X7Bc