The greatest ever, of course, are The Beatles. Now here's my Mac Davis story: Christmas 1995. Bel Aire (California) country club. Office party. Walking about with co-worker (who would within a year be my wife). We stray from path, end up on golf course near green. Golf cart speeds over, driver says, "You don't want to get hurt [by flying golf balls, I guess]. Better get along..." The driver was Mac Davis! Okay, so it's not such an interesting story, but it's all true! (P.S. A Christmas party at a country club in palm-tree-laden Los Angeles on a hot and sunny day--with Dickens carolers singing about sleighs and snow--is pathetic! I wouldn't wish it on anyone...)
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