Bobby is a vertiginous theist: if it’s above him, Bob’ll send some devotion that way. He sends prayers to pigeons, and the rain is sacred; the puddles not as much. God is in the sky, Bobby figures, and so are gods of lesser but more interesting niches. There are blimps and dirigibles and rigid airships and lost children’s balloons and hard-working science balloons and terror-pigs floating over the countryside ever since Pink Floyd came through on their last tour.
Sometimes, small planes are tailed by banners that offer helpful tips on what bar is having Ladies Night; Bobby always says a prayer for Ladies Night.
Death and poison falls from the sky in some places, but Marin is not one of them. Just goodness and sun and forgiveness and healthy rain and the occasional lost parachutist.
So, when the drone flew into his backyard, Bobby knew what to do.
“I praise you, Master of the Sky! Your 12-15 minutes of flight time brings us all joy and the sleep of the innocent! Hover over your glad children like aJESUSFUCKINGCHRISTLOOKOUT!”
…
“WHO’S FLYING THIS DAMN THING?”
“Hey, Weir!”
“Billy, what the fuck!?”
“My bar band’s playing your bar this weekend. Wanted to drop by and say hi.”
“You sliced off half my mustache!”
“Yeah? Stand still, I’ll get the rest.”
“Get out of my backyard.”
“Where’s Chimenti live? Kid needs a haircut.”
“Out.”
I saw a blimp today
..
that’s me alright
One other thing?
I am in San Jose, and it has rained a bit out here I suppose, but they lawn … look at it… look at it again.
Verdant, lush, moist.. someone better tell Layla Monster that Bobby is watering grass.
—
Tor
I’m just a few towns over and we’re presently enjoying our brief annual blast of green-ness. That lawn will be goners in a few weeks.
Also, Bobby looks like he shoved a basketball up his shirt. Poor guy.
True Maggs, but he’s still got nicer nicer guns than Slash.
I try to never think ugly thoughts about Bobby, cause he’s been so pretty for so long…but he does look positively pregnant here.
Speaking of seeing things, like blimps.
I shared a train ride in ATL airport with Neal Casal on Sunday.
I know how I feel while traveling for work (like the drone bee, not the aircraft), so I left him alone.
Made me wonder…
Anyone seen “hard working americans” play?
Are they at all what you would call choogly?
I know they are capable of choog, but do they choose to choog? They play in my state in a few weeks, standing crowded venue, so they would have to be really good to draw me in.
—
Tor
Speaking of Casal, on Sunday…
I was in a restaurant, and their “White of the Day” was a “Casal Garcia Blend”. All I could think was how lovely and conscious that would be 🙂
I didn’t order it, tho. I went for some ridiculous Double IPA called Dirtwolf or some such nonsense.
We see consistent sales of Casal Garcia Vinho Verde where I (used to) work: nice, low price; nice, low alcohol; and, a taste that is appropriate for most patio or lawn activities. The white is traditional, but there’s a rosé too. Dunno about the Blend though.
I’m sure Bobby’s prayed to puddles before…not the dirty water kind, the other kind.