Tag: terrapin crossroads (Page 3 of 11)

When Phil makes that face, you need to give him about three feet of space or you’re getting bitten.

OR

Bobby?

“Uh-huh?”

Is that a Fender?

“Yeah. But, you know, it still cost twenty grand.”

Oh, thank God. I was worried.

“It’s a ’59. This sucker liked Ike.”

He was a genial sort.

“People don’t know this about Eisenhower, but he was our most graceful president.”

Really?

“Moved like a panther.”

I learned something today.

“Yup, okay.”

OR

Bobby’s wrist is reaching Johnny Deppian levels of tchotchkes and bric-a-brac.

OR

Phil loves that green flannel so fucking much I cannot begin to describe it. It might be his wubby at this point. Don’t believe me? Here’s Phil tonight:

Several of you go to Terrapin Crossroads regularly; someone bring Phil a new shirt.

This looks like a Before/After shot in a laxative ad.

OR

“Kobe got fired? I thought he retired.”

“James Comey, Bob.”

“Who did he play for?”

“He was with the FBI, Bob.”

“Female Body Inspectors?”

“No, that’s not a thing.”

“Then where did Billy get the tee-shirt?”

“Just play the song and glare at the camera, Bob.”

“You bet.”

“Why are you staring at my hair, Bob?”

“Looks great. Just bought it?”

“I don’t wear a hairpiece, Bob.”

“Sure, sure. Hair system. Whatever they call them now.”

“Weir, it’s all me.”

“Ah, yeah, I dunno.”

“Whaddya mean, ‘I dunno?'”

“Well, everyone knows I’m the one with the good hair in the Grateful Dead.”

“40 years ago. 40 years ago, you were the guy with the good hair. Now, due to the vagaries of male genetics, I have the hair.”

…

“Like how the Democrats and Republicans flipped in ’68?’

“Please don’t compare my hair to the Southern Strategy, Bob.”

“I make no promises.”

“How’s the little one?”

“Baby Levon?”

“Sure.”

“The best. I’m teaching him to read.”

“English?”

“Yes, Bob.”

“Hey, ya never know. Me and my wife–”

“Natasha Monster.”

“–Natasha Monster were going to raise Chloe in German.”

“Why?”

“Scheißt und kichert.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“That’s the only German I know.”

“Makes sense. We’re gonna stick to English for now.”

“Now is really the time to teach him other languages, though.”

“That’s true.”

“Get the busboys on that.”

“A bit of a racist assumption, Weir.”

“I’ve met them.”

“Still.”

“That polite fellow that runs the Vault speaks Canadian.”

“Not a language.”

“Now who’s the racist?”

“Weir, the kid’s American. He’s gonna speak English and that’s it.”

…

“Was I supposed to bring the drummer?”

“I wasn’t going to mention it, but: yeah.”

“Darn.”

“I heard they built a casino on Saturn.”

“No, Bob.”

“Oh, yeah. Big place. Steve Wynn, I think.”

“Cassini, Bob. It’s a spacecraft that’s crashing into Saturn?”

“How do you crash into Saturn? It’s big enough to avoid.”

“It’s crashing intentionally.”

“Insurance scam?”

…

“How are the drummers?”

“No idea. Haven’t heard from Billy since Mexico. I think Mickey’s taken up painting.”

“Like Dubya.”

“More nudes, but yeah.”

“Mickey paints nudes?”

“No, he paints nude.”

“Right.”

“You, uh, should call before you stop by. Learned that lesson the ugly way. How’re the busboys?”

“Restive.”

“That word always confuses me. It sounds like ‘rest,’ but it means the opposite.”

“Like enervating.”

“Phlegmatic.”

“Right, yeah. If you’re full of phlegm, you should be a madman, not calm.”

…

“What were we talking about?”

“Casinos.”

“No, Bob. Hey, man: remember to say hi to Brent before you leave.”

“He still in the turtle suit?”

“He lives in that thing.”

“He’s expressing himself. And, you know, you’re saving money on hiring a kid to wear the suit.”

“You always see the silver lining.”

“Glass is half-full.”

…

“Phil?”

“Yeah?”

“Did we forget to call a drummer?”

“Apparently.”

“Ah.”