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M&M Guy

Picture of red M&M dispenser.As the New England Patriots' reign comes to a screeching halt, I am reminded of another dynasty. One that has spanned 3 decades, 2 centuries and 2 millennia.

Yes, folks who don't do sports (& Pats fans... not saying those two are synonymous...), this has more to do with chocolate than it does sports so it's safe to read on.

Can't quite remember when my buddy Johnny gifted me this M&M dispenser guy (probably around either my birthday or Christmas 1990 is my best guess) but I gotta say, this is the gift that just keeps on giving. Quite likely to have already hit Heirloom level epicness amongst my children (and surely a few nieces & nephews).

Mark my words. When I kick the bucket, no one's fighting for my guitars, original music catalogue, my car, my house even. At least not until ownership and visitation schedules are hammered out for this guy.

For as long as my kids believed in Santa, I would receive one noticeable item in my stocking on Christmas morning: a refill bag of M&Ms. Not being a sweet tooth kinda guy, that bag would last me through the following Christmas.

Don't judge.

Now that the whole Santa phase is over (sorry Pats fans... he's fictitious... might as well rip that bandage off right now too) my young lad, Tys, has picked up the slack and restocked the reserves.

He's also largely responsible for prematurely depleting said reserves so full points for owning it. One might even say he's getting a leg up on the whole future Estate divvy-up debacle by establishing some kind of weird candy-coated chocolate investment squatters rights.

He's crafty that way.

Anyway, this "one-armed bandit, sweet jackpot every time" trinket has existed in amongst my things, in close proximity of my music and studio equipment (in many different studios) as an arms' reach life-saving sugar injection on those late night recording sessions when I Just. Needed. To. Hit. That. Last. Note.

Picture of red M&M dispenser in Luc's studio circa 2000.

Nearly all of my songs you hear have at least one crank to thank for it. Come to think of it, I'm going to list him in the credits of my next album. Mark my words.

He knows all my songs.

Every strum. Every tune.

Every word (including all those that lay on the editing floor).

If he could talk.

All of this came flooding back to me as I gave it a regular wipe down and annual fill-up.

Which then led to this next thought:

All you other friends of mine should perhaps take a moment to decide whether the 20s will be the decade you finally step up your gift-giving game. I mean, seriously, are you gonna let Mr. Red M&M guy dominate yet *another* decade?

My birthday's in the fall and Christmas is just before next year. You got time.

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