A ragged, old, derelict shuffled into a down and dirty bar in Colorado Springs at dawn. Stinking of whiskey and cigarettes, his hands shook as he took the "Piano Player " Wanted" sign from the window and handed it to the bartender. "I'd like to apply for the job," he said. "I was an F-4 jet jockey and a Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force, but when they retired the Phantom, all the thrill was gone, and soon they cashiered me as well. I learned to play the piano at O-Club happy hours, so here I am." The seedy Lieutenant Colonel staggered his way over to the piano while several patrons snickered. By the time he was into his third bar of music, every voice was silenced. What followed was a rhapsody of soaring music, unlike anything heard in the bar before. When he finished there wasn't a dry eye in the place. The bartender took the old jet jockey a beer and asked him the name of the song he had just played. It's called "Drop your Skivvies, Baby, I'm Going Balls To The Wall For You !" said the Lieutenant Colonel. After a long pull from the beer, leaving it empty, "...and I wrote it myself." The bartender and the crowd winced at the title, but the piano player just went right on into a knee-slapping, hand-clapping bit of ragtime that had the place jumping. After he finished, the jet jockey acknowledged the applause, downed a second proffered mug, and told the crowd the song was called, "Big Boobs Make My Afterburner Sizzle." He then excused himself and lurched to the john. When he came out the bartender went over to him and said, "Look fly boy, the job is yours ... but do you know your fly is open and your Johnson is hanging out?" "Know it?" the old flyboy replied, "Hell, I wrote it!".