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

Tag: sammy hagar (Page 1 of 4)

One Of These Men Has Seen Bobby Naked (Probably)

“…and so then Axl threw the piano out the window, which none of us was expecting since it was a baby grand. We knew he could chuck an upright when he got mad, but a baby grand is like half-a-ton. Apparently, Axl’s adrenal glands are nine times the size of a normal human being’s.”

“WOO!”

“It was wild, yeah. Sammy, can I ask you a question?”

“Woo.”

“Is that all you say? Is it like a Groot thing with you?”

“Woo, woo.”

“Woo.”

“I’m just gonna talk about my new album now.”

“Woo?”

“Shh.”

Max Occupancy

This is Josh Meyers’ stage set-up (plus Bobby and Sammy Hagar) for his latest tour, and I think it’s obvious that he has entered the Giant Band Phase of his career. All solo artists do, eventually. Both Elton and Elvis started with two other guys, and ended up with several score of musicians onstage. Billy Joel and Bruce began their performing lives in GBP; Bowie wandered in and out.

Here’s a quick checklist to find out whether you suffer from GBP:

  • Are there black-up singers?
  • If you told your road manager Go get the drummer, would he say Which one?
  • Have you recently paid for a trombonist’s hotel room and per diem?

If you’ve answered “Yes” to any of these questions, and experience anal leakage, you may be a victim of GBP and should consult your private physician. (Anyone vulnerable to GBP has a private physician.)

 

EDIT: Who sent me this picture? One of you did, but–as usual–I am bound by the strictures of Without Research. Claim your plaudits in the Comment Section.

Hard, Men

Why are you being so stand-offish? Get in there, fucker. That’s your Bobby.

“I’m being appropriate.”

Fuck that. That man saved your career.

“DID NOT!”

You get in his sweaty nook. Nuzzle in, douchewad.

“This is fine.”

How’s Sammy?

“Good. The usual.”

What does that mean?

“He keeps yelling WOO! and asking if we could play Three Lock Box.”

3LB is a slapper, Josh.

“Don’t call me that. We’re not doing Three Lock Box.”

What about There’s Only One Way to Rock?

“I don’t know that one.”

You could figure it out. We’re not talking about The Black Page.

“Bob and Sam are coming out for one number. Fire on the Mountain. That’s it”

Did Sammy bring any rum?

“Like, five cases worth. Sammy Hagar is like a Boy Scout, but for partying.”

He’s prepared.

“That’s what I’m saying.”

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Dude, we were getting along so well.”

I know. But this is how the bit works.

“Such a hack.

I know.

“You’re on with John.”

“Son, this is the President.”

“Oh. Hey, Mr. President. I’m just glad you’re not Miles Davis.”

“Nasty business, that man. Fabulous horn player, no one would deny that, but as a man he’s trouble. As a man. And he is, from my experience, the type of man that riles up others, uh, of his kind. His fellows. They see his attitude, and they mimic him. I’ve told Hoover to look into him several times, but Hoover says that his agents are scared of him. Heavily-armed and unreasonable, they report.”

“That is an accurate report on Miles Davis, sure.”

“He’s not like Sam. Sam Davis, Jr. There’s a negro that should be looked up to by any young man, whatever the color.”

“I guess.”

“Friendly, hard-working, can take a joke. It’s not always about race with him. And his pronunciation! My God, you would think you were talking to a Princetonian, for all that’s worth. On the phone, you cannot tell. You simply cannot tell.”

“Mr. President, please stop discussing race relations. Why are you in a hard hat?”

“Meeting with the Teamsters. Many people have, uh, forgotten just how mobbed-up I was.”

“I just assumed.”

“You want to keep your hands clean, go into the priesthood. Politics is for men, son.”

“But we’re a nation of laws.”

“Written by men. The laws were written by men. Remember that, and you’re halfway home before you begin.”

Hand Sam His Old Guitar

Seriously, why did Sammy not get a guitar? Fire on the Mountain has two chords in it. There’s not even a bridge with a bonus third chord. There’s a B, and there’s an A. That’s it. I Can’t Drive 55? SEVEN CHORDS! Sammy could’ve handled FOTM. Shit, you don’t even have to turn him up in the house. Just give him something to hold on to, for fuck’s sake.

Red & Company

Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?

“Squeezing the last little bit of summer out of the tube.”

Sammy Hagar is a summer type of dude.

“Yeah, sure. You, uh, don’t think ‘autumn’ when you think of Sam. He’s a ‘drink in your hand, toes in the sand’ kind of guy.”

All he needs is a beautiful girl.

“There you go. And we each got one.”

What do you and Sammy talk about?

“Aliens.”

Aliens?

“Almost exclusively. We were gonna join in on storming Area 51, but our wives wouldn’t let us.”

Smart women. Did you make those shorts yourself?

“I make all my shorts myself.”

I should have guessed that.

“You can make pants into shorts, but you can’t turn shorts into pants. Time’s arrow only, uh, flies one way.”

That’s deep.

“Yeah, sure.”

OR

Potato salad.

Putting The “Super” In Supergroup

“We don’t gotta hold hands, Bob.”

“It’s not a sexual grasping, Sam.”

“I know, I know. You can let go, though.”

“No, uh, tantric pleasure is being derived thereof. As you can see from my face.”

“I see your face, man. You don’t wanna smile for the crowd?”

“Nope. Giving ’em the glower.”

“It’s like they’re revenuers you want off your land.”

“Well, Sam, I wasn’t in Van Johnson–”

“Halen.”

“–and I don’t know much about your heavy mental world. Maybe grinning like a sap is what you folks do, but the Grateful Dead always went their own way. We glower. Actually, most times we’d just ignore the audience entirely. Never got into that Hello, Cleveland stuff.”

“Okay, man, okay.”

“Bob, are you brushing my palm with your middle finger?”

“Yes, but it’s not sexual.”

The Van Halen Brothers Look Terrible

Hey, Sammy Hagar.

“WOO!”

Why are the chevrons facing downwards? What rank would that be?

“WOO!”

Nice to see you, too. Hello, Don Was.

“GRRRR.”

Are you a werewolf now?

“GRRRR.”

I guess you’re a werewolf now. Hey, Bobby.

“Howdy.”

I see you’re doing Bobby Picture Pose #2.

“Bringing the old girl back. Hadn’t, uh, broke her out in a while, but it turns out it’s just like riding a bike.”

Sure.

“You just put your hand on your chin and don’t smile.”

Easy as pie.

“Terrible saying. Pie is actually much more complicated than you’d think. And even if you get it right, someone’s just gonna steal it off your windowsill as it cools.”

I never thought of that. Piece of cake.

“Similarly complex. And, uh, it’s a possible security risk. Might be a file hiding inside there.”

Easy peasy?

“Yeah, okay. Peas are a snap.”

I see what you did there.

“Hey, man: I got a new dog, a new band, and the Corvette’s running again. Everything’s coming up Bobby.”

Seize the day.

“Yup, yup.”

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