Popping open a bottle of Southern Comfort to wet our whistles, we’d remember with a sense of having been personally cheated all our favorite musicians were dead, Hendrix and Morrison prime examples of people who refused to grow up, heroes of ours as much for what they stood against as what they stood for, and we’d sing a round or two of “All We Do Is Drugs” to the tune of “All You Need Is Love” in homage to their memory.