“And I’m Harold.”

“We’ve been married for 63 years. Ain’t that right, Harold?”

“That’s right, Edna.”

“You know, folks, people always ask us how we managed to stay together for all these years. It’s easy. You tell them, Harold.”

“It’s the concerts. Right, Edna?”

“That’s right. Harold and I wouldn’t have gotten past the honeymoon without the concerts. We discovered early in our marriage that two, maybe three concerts a week can do wonders for a relationship. Tonight we’re going to see George Jones.”

“Wait a minute, Edna. I thought we were going to see Michael Martin Murphey.”

“No, I clearly remember deciding that we were going to see George.”

“But we’ve already seen him. I’d much rather see Barenaked Ladies or Linkin Park.”

“Look, Harold, we decided to see George, and that’s who we’re going to see.”

“There you go again, always insisting on making the big decisions. Like how many times I may use the good bathroom, and which shows we’re going to see.”

“Pay no attention to him, folks. Harold’s just a little ticked because I wouldn’t let him see Britney Spears. Gotta watch that blood pressure, you know.”

“My blood pressure’s fine, Edna. You were just getting back at me because I wouldn’t let you go to that Limp Bizkit after-show party. You always had a thing for hip hop artists.”

“What?” Me? What about that time I caught you with ?”

“That was nothing.”

“Nothing? I suppose it was someone else who was lying on that couch. Someone who happened to look just like you with his head in her lap, false teeth on the table, and being hand-fed Viagra.”

“Oh, yeah? I wasn’t the one who followed Marilyn Manson around for two whole weeks. ‘Have some soup, Marilyn. Are you sure you’re getting enough rest, Marilyn? Go ahead, Marilyn. Tell Edna where it hurts.’ Good golly, talk about throwing yourself at someone.”

“Harold, would you shut up? People are reading.”

“Uh? Oh, right. Sorry.”

“Folks, as I was saying, we’ve been married for 63 years. And it’s all because of concerts Ain’t that right, Harold? Harold??”

“And then there was that time you kidnapped Lance from ‘N Sync and wouldn’t let him go until he spread warm cocoa butter all over your goiter.”

“Harold! Stick to the script!”

“Oh, all right. Folks, take it from us. For a good, long marriageā€¦”

“See as many concerts as you can. Right, Harold?”

“Edna’s right, folks. And if you’re lucky, you’ll end up just like us.”