THE BEAT GOES ON

Everybody thinks its all peaches and CREEM being a rock critic. You wake up in the morning, crawl gingerly over the sleeping superstar (s) in your bed to the bathroom, where you ingest at least six different Exotic Drugs. Then you hop into your Mercedes, drive out to the Post Office to pick up all the free records, t-shirts, diamond-studded Supertramp belt buckles, etc., and zip back home, casually tossing Kiki Dee 45s to bewildered youngsters along the way.