He wears underwear on his head, sometimes a lampshade instead. At least once he wore a skull cap that you threw velcro balls at. He often wears a cape and overalls, blaze orange is the color most recall. His telecaster shines bright like the moon on a dark night. His songs speak to all humankind, from the grossly obvious to the sweetly sublime. Erroneously eloquent, his melodies are self evident. He’s the Genius from Las Vegas and he’s hugly. He’s the folk monster, good old Phillsy Philz. He’s the only man most know who kissed Bob Dylan, truth be told, and Patti Smith called him an asshole.