born in the bassinet right next to snoop dogg at the long beach memorial hospital many moons ago on this day,
matt, like snoop, would maneuver the mean streets of the LBC avoiding the traps of drugs guns and money
to follow his muse, poetry, which eventually lead to his career as a dj
but the year was 1987 and white djs were shunned and with his flowing blonde locks, matt needed a new way to express himself
so he sauntered up the coast to the college newspaper where he heard the most delightful sounds
typewriters clacking, old milwaukee cans popping open, and young women cooing over the words of
the whalens, a solomon, a hornberger, a collins, a dude named dylan and oh so many more
he was at home.
welch wore dresses and lipstick, opened bottles of wine for the ladies and took swigs for himself
he pasted up the paper and wrote the headlines and spent a good amount of effort on the 4 sentence weather box
to tell all the kids in santa barbara that the morning haze would burn off after school
and then all would be 72 degrees and sunny
matt would eventually move to eastern europe and (mostly) everyone would follow him.
his guitar playing had improved and his singing was right on so he set up shop on a bridge and the tourist girls swooned
and all was well.
until he returned to america and took to the internet where he insulted the daily newspaper early and often
they paid him to do it once in a while and eventually they paid him a full time wage
and gave him an office.
his beautiful french wife wondered if this was the american dream and it was.
nice house, nice family, the freedom to be courageous in print, and the idealism to speak truth to power.
the world tilted and now he is on the other coast doing fancy things like writing books and wearing ties.
his angels are so deep that even snoop dogg is considering sporting a halos cap but because of gang colors he cant
welch is thinking about working something out between the bloods and the crips
so that wont be an issue come october.
bonne anniversarrie, hippieman