You have the tours.

The new dates for Mark Knopfler jingle in your pocket as you confront a homeless person standing at the corner. Upon realizing that the poor soul hasn’t eaten for days, you toss him the schedule for Roxy Music while whistling “Love Is The Drug.” Doesn’t it feel good to share the wealth?

Your morning contentment is briefly interrupted when you see a careless driver run the corner stop light and broadside a minivan containing a soccer mom and her four kids. The sight of the mother hanging from the steering wheel of the overturned vehicle reminds you of the artwork that accompanied a 70s Alice Cooper album you bought when you were in high school. As you gather up a couple of severed limbs to hold until the paramedics arrive, you comfort the injured by reciting the new Euro dates for Mudvayne and Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. How does it feel to be a hero?

You arrive at work and set about the unpleasant task of telling your employees that the company is flat broke and that everyone has until noon to clean out their desks or else they’ll be arrested for trespassing. To soften the blow, you email each worker a few Guns N Roses dates. “Cheer up,” you write in the closing message of your email to the staff. “The folks at didn’t get half as much.” What’s it like to be a humanitarian?

Yes, life can be cruel, but you’ve learned how to make lemonade from the cards dealt to you. You return home, and upon reading the note from your wife saying that she’s left you for ‘N Sync, you run to the den, boot up the computer and head for where you find new dates for all your favorites, including Morbid Angel, Art Garfunkel and Canned Heat. You take a deep breath as you savor the cities, states and venues, and reflect upon the last 24 hours of tour dates, scattered appendages and failed companies.

All in all, it was a very good day.