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One Sunday in 1972, the headliners/closing act was Parliament/Funkadelic. The
5 singers (Parliament) were AWOL, so the band (Funkadelic) started jamming for
about 20 minutes. All I remember is that it was AMAZING instrumental funk.
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Suddenly, this limo comes tearing across the lawn and slides to a stop at the
stage and Funkadelic literally ROLLED out of the back doors like some sort of
clown car. Despite the heat, they were all dressed in heavy monks' robes with
the hoods up. They staggered and stumbled to the stage and put on what
might've been the best performance EVER at one of those shows.
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Last song, George throws off his robe and sings in nothing but a pair of black
Speedos. Young and buff and studly he was in those days. The woman behind
me, at somewhere between 300 to 400 pounds, threw her arms around my 150
pound frame from behind and started screaming her undying affection for George
over and over and over again.
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I felt like Rog from "What's Happening?" being hugged and squeaking out, Mama,
you're choking me!!!!"
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Obviously, I survived, but it gave me this great little essay you're reading
now -- "How I Spent My Summer (OR) How George Clinton Almost Killed Me."
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Back in those days, his head was shaved except for small astrological symbols.
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