I don't care if it's Bruno Mars or Aerosmith or ZZ Top... it's about songs. 'Paperback Writer,' 'Satisfaction,' 'Cat Scratch Fever,' 'Walk This Way,' all the killer songs in the world start with an identifiable guitar pattern that is basically a bastardization of either honky-tonk or boogie-woogie. And that's in every cool piece of music in the world that you and I love.

I have busted more hippies' noses than all the narcs in the free world.

I'm such a lucky guy. I've been able to make my own decisions for my own life for the last fifty years...or sixty ... well maybe not sixty. Even though I think I was making my own decisions at the tender age of eight.

My idea of fast food is a mallard.

I don't objectify women. I'd like to think that I'm optimizing their hardware.

Everybody I hang with - the ranchers, the farmers, the cops, the teachers, the plumbers, everybody I hang with - they've got an alarm clock. They get up, they put their heart and their soul into being the very best that they can be. They want to be an asset to their families and their neighborhood. They want to be productive members of society.

Those original, black, spirited, defiant, rebellious musical masters. Chuck Berry was one of the first masters of Les Paul's new electric guitar; he pretty much laid down the gauntlet, and I don't think anybody's ever beat him since. Way before the British Invasion, I was tuned into the black guys that created the British Invasion. Without Howlin' Wolf, Muddy Waters, Robert Johnson, Lightnin' Hopkins, Bo Diddley, Chuck Berry and the Motown hits, there would be no Beatles.