My friend, Mike, sees his life in epic proportions. In high school, to satisfy his longing to be a folk hero, he composed a 12-verse ballad about himself. These are the only lines he can remember:
Mike Miner, 'tis of thee
Sweet man of lib-er-ty
He's so damn cool
Smokes doobs to get a fix
And swings with foxy chicks
Comes from a town of hicks
Called Sud-bu-ry
Not to sound all Rob Breszny on you all, but I challenge each of you to write a ballad in which you cast yourself as a folk hero.
