Hey, Paul Simon. Whatcha doing?
“Suffering! Honestly? I’m suffering. No Jew in history has ever suffered as much as me.”
You sure you don’t wanna amend that statement?
“No. Fuck Anne Frank. Let her sue me.”
What’s your problem?
“He doesn’t know the song!”
“Yeah. I asked him Bob, do you know the song? and he said Sure, uh-huh, gotcha.”
Ah. That’s how Bobby answers every question. Usually, though, Matt Busch follows up a few minutes later and gets him out of whatever he just agreed to.
“You knew what he sang? In the clearing stands the Bobber; In his poncho and his beard and then he just started humming. It’s unprofessional.”
Hey, you’re lucky. Bobby has been waaaaay more unprofessional than that.
“Ugh. I never got the whole Grateful Dead thing. Doodley-doodley and all the kids are on drugs. Terrible scene.”
Uh-huh. You sure you’re not just still pissed that Garcia fucked your wife?
“HE DID NOT!”
“You include me in your little blog again and I’m suing.”
She gave him a beardjob.