If I were Morrissey for a day, the first thing would do is buy a plane ticket. One to Minneapolis, Minnesota, round trip. Why Minneapolis? Well I'll tell you.
Just outside of Minneapolis is the suburb of Fridley. Home of Molly Sobel, president of the Smiths U.S. Fan Club in 1986. I would take a cab from Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport to her home. I'd arrive about 6:30 pm, just as she's sitting down for dinner with her family (Husband William, children Michael, 10 and Jae, 6).
I'd walk up the driveway and ring the doorbell. There would be some noice inside for a few seconds and Eileen would open the door, saying "Yes?"
I'd give a simple hello and it would take a few seconds for it to register in her mind. She would give a slight gasp, me being Morrissey and all.
I would than take her face in my hands and say "Don't worry, Molly. I was happy the whole time. The songs only sounded sad. I was happy. For you."
Then I would gently kiss her forehead and walk back down the driveway, get into the taxi and go off into the sunset.
No, actually, I would climb upon a horse waiting at the end of the driveway and ride off into the sunset.
That is what I would do if I were Morrissey for a day.
Oh, and also sign all royalties and publishing rights for my music over to myself (non-Morrissey RJ).