When I turned 27, I remember being bummed and somewhat awed that that was as far as Hendrix, Brian Jones, Robert Johnson, and, of course, the elephant man got. And what had I accomplished with those years? It was depressing. But now that I'm 33, I'm of course thinking of the Big J (though out of unbridled humility, I try not to compare myself with him – at least, not too often). And yet, alas, it does put some things into harrowing perspective. All the while I can't help wondering what would have happened if he'd lived longer, what further joys would John Belushi have brought to this desolate little planet of ours?