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.
Sammy says the best things about aliens
What is in Bobby’s right pocket? Is that dip?
And, yes, I went back and looked at the picture more closely after I ready “Potato Salad”.
I find it very plausible that Bobby has been laying off the smokes and has a tin of skoal in his pedal pushers.
Salubrious Saphenous, Bob.
Bobby’s a [url=https://www.gq.com/story/bob-weir-grateful-dead-profile]Copenhagen guy[/url].
Boggles my mind that those dude’s are almost exactly the same age! They were born 3 days apart from each other. Sammy doesn’t remotely look almost 72 years old, and Bobby…well, let’s just say that Bobby looks a bit more wise than Sammy.
Bobby could look that “young” if he waned to.