There’s three more shows, Phil. Not two.
“Peace sign, jackass.”
You get the chicken or the fish?
“Short flight, jackass.”
Turkey wrap?
“Turkey wrap.”
…
“Jackass.”
Y’know, Phil, I’m really good at reading vibes and telling how people feel towards me, so I’ll just come right out and say it: we are on the best of terms currently.
“Got a lotta bullshit to deal with. Have you met this Internet?”
Yes, everyone’s terrible.
“Everyone?”
For some reason, I heard you say that in a pointed and accusatory tone.
“Yeah?”
…
Phil, I can’t live with you being mad at me. How’s this: I come backstage in Chicago, we hug it out like the Bro-Re-Mi’s that we are, and then I do some damage to the craft services table?
“Pass.”
Are you in the market for a Benjy?
“Hard pass.”
“Sir, I’m going to need you to go back to your seat. The captain has turned on the ‘Stop Bothering Rock Stars’ sign.”
I’m going.
…
Phil?
“What is it?”
You reading your SkyMall?
“Here.”
Thanks. I’m gonna buy you a wireless mouse shaped like an Aston Martin.
“Do no such thing.”
…
Because you–
“Stewardess!”
–like cars. Okay, I’m leaving.
PHIL LESH BB UR MY AESTHETIC BLESS U DADDY
Weird
OOOOOOMMMMGGGGGG STAWP
Any word on whether Healy is going to be around at these last shows? Can’t seem to dig anything up. And who’s running sound?
Billy secretly put some rolling papers in Lesh’s top pockets and guess who got Homelanded at the airport.
“Two Breakfast McBig Guys? Comin’ right up Mr Lesh, sir!!”