Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?
“Same ol’ shit.”
This one of those VIP gigs?
“Oh, yeah. Amazing how much folks’ll pay to get close enough to smell Don Was.”
What does he smell like?
“Weed and annuities.”
Sure. Hey, Billy.
“Ass! Look at all these suckers!”
They’re fans, Billy.
“Rich dumbfucks is what they are. We’re just gonna play the same songs tonight.”
But they get an experience.
“They sure will. I farted on the canapes.”
Great. Hey, Don Was.
“GRRRRR.”
Are those Yeezys?
“GRRRRR.”
Awesome.
“Thoughts on my Ass! Been a while!”
Hey, Billy.
“My buddy’s hat makes him look like a penis.”
You haven’t changed.
“Too late for that, Ass. And I don’t wanna change. I’m fun.”
No New Year’s Resolutions, then?
“Nah, I make a ton of them. This year, I resolved to get paid even more for doing even less.”
How could you possibly do less?
“You know how I’ve been phoning it in?”
Yeah.
“I just got a new app and I think I can literally phone it in this summer. It’s like FaceTime, but for drumming. I can do the whole tour from my backyard.”
Go to the gigs, Billy.
“It’s a hassle. We should do ’em all like this New Year’s bullshit. I got a 20-minute commute! Make all the Deadheads come here.”
You can’t set up a Dead & Company residency on the Big Island of Hawaii.
“Why not?”
Because tickets would be around a thousand bucks apiece once you throw in the flight and hotel.
…
“And what’s the problem?”
It’s a lot of money!
“I’m worth it!”
Billy, we’re heading into a recession and D&C is juuuuuuust about selling out the venues it plays now at a tenth the sticker price.
“Fake news.”
Just stay on the horse, man. Don’t rock the boat. Any other resolutions?
“I’m gonna write a spec horror screenplay about a world invaded by demonic smells and every time you leave the house you have to plug up your nose.”
Very timely. What’s it called?
“Stinky Terror.”
Sold.
Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?
“Rando time. Gotta get it in, or you get out of practice. Then, you know, you go back on tour and you got no idea how to handle ’em.”
Just pretend to be nice.
“You have no idea how much work that takes.”
True. Hey, today is a special anniversary.
“Ah, dammit. My wife–”
Natasha Monster.
“–is gonna kill me.”
Not your anniversary, Bobby.
“Oh, good.”
On this date in 1984 was the very first official Taper’s Section.
“Ah. Huh, yeah. Portentous day. Went much better than the previous evening.”
What happened?
“Well, uh, we tried to introduce the Taper’s Section. But somebody made a typing error on the memo and things turned out poorly for everyone.”
How bad could a type be?
“Raper’s Section.”
Wow.
“The situation got out of hand almost immediately.”
Sure.
“And, you know, just because you have a Raper’s Section doesn’t mean the rapers are gonna stay there. Those folks don’t follow rules.”
They do not, no.
“Had to send the crew up there with some pool cues.”
Very few problems a large man with a pool cue can’t solve.
“That’s what I’ve come to find out, yeah. Anyway, the next night everything was spelled right and, you know, a tradition was born.”
Bobby, God bless ya, but that’s a terrible story.
“That’s why I never told it to you before.”
Good point.
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