Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: bob weir (Page 66 of 198)

Phive

bpbby-phish-rehearsal

“Why is Mr. Bobby still here, Trey?”

“He’s not, Page. This picture is from a few days ago.”

“What?”

“Nothing. He’s not a Phish, buddy.”

“Only four. There are a billion Grateful Deads, but there are four Phi–”

“Oh my GOD, shut the fuck up, Page!”

“WaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

“Great, Mike. Page is crying now. Y’happy?”

“Well, it gets to be a bit much.”

“Like your Instagram account?”

“WaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

“Goddammit. Sorry about this, Bob.”

“Eh. We would have been punching each other by now.”

Snakes And Flowers

bobby-cowboy-shirt-good-shot

“Basssssstard.”

Hello?

“Ssssson of a bitch.”

Snake T-Shirt?

“Ssssspeaking.”

Stop being jealous of Bobby’s cowboy shirt. It’s awesome.

“I’M AWESSSSSOME! You can’t even sssee the gunssss!”

I’ll give you that.

“Sssssun’s out, gunssss out.”

Sun wasn’t out. Show was at night.

“You know what I’m sssssaying.”

Kinda.

“Look at that thing. Flowerssss. He looksss like a sssissssssy.”

A what?

“A sssissssssy.”

Ah.

“Ssssnake beats flower. Ssssnakesss eat flowersss.”

They do not.

“Vegan sssnakesss.”

No such thing.

“Next time he wearsss me, I’m biting hisss nipplesss.”

Good plan.

Light A Candle, Then: Bob Weir

bobby-cake-hat-candle

How many iPads does it take to sing a cowboy song?

“You’d be surprised. One of ’em, you know, that’s for lyrics. Dunno if you ever noticed, but sometimes I forget the words.”

No!

“Yeah, it happens.”

I don’t think anyone’s picked up on it.

“Okay, sure. So, uh: one’s for lyrics.”

And the other one?

“We’re not playing that this tour.”

The other iPad, Bobby. Not the song.

“Ah. Binge-watching Stranger Things.”

Sure.

“Worried about Barb.”

We all are. What are you wishing for?

“That I didn’t have to wear this hat.”

Good wish.

Posing, Posing With The Band

bobby-phish-posing

“He is not a Phish, Trey.”

“No, Page. Just sitting in for one night.”

“And when he leaves, you will stay?”

“Yes, buddy.”

“Can I sleep in your room tonight?”

“No, we’re both going to sleep in our own rooms with our wives.”

“She does things to me.”

“She’s supposed to, Pagey.”

“She tickles my button until I make shame on myself.”

“Love ya, buddy.”

“Oh, I love you so much, Trey. Trey?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Where is the smelly lady?”

“On the end in the sunglasses.”

“No, that is a smelly man.”

“Same person, buddy.”

“Men are not ladies, Trey. That’s what makes them men. And their buttons.”

“Bob?”

“Troy?”

“That trade deal still on the table?”

“I’m gonna keep you in suspense.”

“Great.”

Blank Page

bobby-page-trey

“Please don’t take Trey, Mr. Bobby.”

“Who?”

“Him. My friend who smiles and solos.”

“Ah. You call him Trey? Is that short for Troy?”

“I don’t understand, Mr. Bobby. Trey is Trey, and he is my friend.”

“Yeah, no. I’m not gonna take him.”

“Trey is a Phish. I am a Phish, and Mike who is mean to me, and the smelly lady who plays drums. And Trey.”

“Gotcha.”

“And you cannot be a Phish. There are four of us. That is why ‘four’ and ‘Phish’ start with the same letter.”

“Can you read, buddy?”

“Trey is teaching me, Mr. Bobby.”

“Since when?”

“We met in 1985.”

“Ah.”

Got To Find A Number To Use

bobby-mike-gordon-nashville

SO EXCITING!

“The little team-up thing we did? Yeah, big fun. You bet.”

Playin’!

“There’s a G.”

Glayin’?

“At the end of the word. Playing in the Band. Truckin’ doesn’t have a G.”

You love writing songs with participles in the name.

“They, uh, might be gerunds.”

Wait: they could just be verbs.

“Doesn’t really matter.”

Nah. BECAUSE YOU PLAYED PLAYING IN THE BAND WITH PHOSH!

“Good time.”

When you counted it off, I was like, “What could it be?” and then you went past four. Once you hit five, I was all, “Oh my God, they’re gonna do Estimated.” BUT THEN YOU KEPT GOING UP UNTIL TEN.

“Bit of a giveaway there, yeah.”

Not too many songs in 10/8.

“Well, you know: we did songs in all kinds of weird times. Did one in eleven.”

The Eleven.

“And thirteen.”

The Thirteen Jam.

“And seven.”

The Seven. Also, the first name of Playing was The Main Ten.

“Uh-huh. What’s your point?”

No point at all.

“Like usual.”

Aw.

“Hey, uh: quick question.”

Mike Gordon.

“That was the question. Thanks.”

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