Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?
“Wriggling away from Parish.”
I see that. What’s the matter?
“Well, you know I love the guy.”
“The man’s my brother. Parish has even, uh, been my Parish on many occasions.”
A Rock Star needs his Parish.
“Knight’s nothing without a squire. Can’t even get on his horse.”
The armor was heavy. What’s going on with Parish?
“He won’t stop bugging me about investing in his weed company.”
That doesn’t seem so bad.
“Uh-huh. Literally every white person I’ve met in the past decade has bugged me to invest in their weed company. It’s been, like, my number one conversation for a while.”
I can see that happening.
“Now that I mention it, it seems obvious, right?”
A little. Why don’t you just start a damn weed company? Mickey’s got one. Hell, Garcia’s got one, and Texas was still executing pot smokers when he died.
“True, yeah. I just don’t wanna be a bad role model for my girls.”
Didn’t you recommend to one of them last week that she take LSD for her migraines?
“I didn’t recommend it. I presented it as an option.”