This has everything. The music. Chase. The stars of the real Hollywood manifestation of our town (not that fraudulent weirdo Sylvester Stallone). And a Fly Eagles Fucking Fly from the owner of the greatest phrase our city has ever known.

I’d be waiting to see which player, should the Eagles win, would carry the fucking torch. My money was on Lane Johnson, but I didn’t think it would come from The Man himself. Bless him. Bless you, Chase.

Side note: How much would you fucking pay to hang out with Mac, Dee and Chase in Hollywood? Do you think they sit around and read the letter to each other? Are there stickers? How much wine did they drink here? I need to be friends with them. I NEED to know.