Willie Nelson’s new book of musings from the road doesn’t have a table of contents. It’s more like a table of curious smorgasbord treats. You don’t know what’s coming next, but it certainly won’t be boring.
I was surprised when I opened my review copy of “Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die” (William Morrow, $22.99 hardcover, 192 pages) to find the front page autographed, accompanied by a hand-drawn self-portrait by Willie himself! I called the publicist to thank her, only to find out that all the books are like that. He illustrated and signed a master — at the front and also at the back, which is scrawled simply “The End.”
In between are all kinds of observations — or maybe ramblings — from Willie, the icon of Texas music, on everything from music to marijuana to religion to politics to marijuana to the environment to family to life to farming to, did I mention, marijuana. If that isn’t enough, the foreword was written by none other than Kinky Friedman.
On smoking: “Cigarettes killed my mother, father, stepfather, stepmother, and half my family, and you can still buy them anywhere. If you make pot legal, and tax it and regulate it like alcohol and tobacco, you will stop the dealing on the borders and save thousands of lives.”