"Elvis is dead!" 30 years later

The King's been dead for 30 years today, and (I add sarcastically) there is little to no pomp and circumstance surrounding it. Actually, there is quite a bit of excitement and hullabaloo going on about it. Thousands of people are making the trip out to Graceland to check out the big man's grave site, and pay their respects. They're dressed up in sparkly jumpsuits, sideburns and tacky t-shirts. They're bringing flowers; sharing stories; and buying all kinds of stuff with his face on it.
I'll pay my tribute from afar, my friends, preferring instead to stay in my air-conditioned home and checking the Memphis madness out online rather than roast in the 105-degree heat and humidity to see a relatively unassuming grave marker, and be bumped, prodded and pushed by the people.
Oh, but don't think for a second that I consider myself above visiting the home of Elvis. I've been a couple times. I just prefer to do my cheesy souvenir shopping, gawking and picture taking at a slow and leisurely pace. Mom and I have done it all before: toured the mansion, the plane and even the car museum. Best times ever, I think.
I don't know when exactly it was that I fell for Elvis. I have no idea how old I was, or what song it was that caught my initial attention. Was it the Christmas album that I can still have on constant repeat during the holidays? Was it my all-time favorite song of his, "Now or Never"? Or was it just the general splendor of his musical catalog as a whole? At any rate, I'll just make my respects known right here, right now, and thank him for entertaining me so well all these years.