Hey, Bobby.
“Did, uh, we get another bass player? I was just getting used to the last one.”
No. This is a one-time deal.
“Not Phil.”
No.
“And he’s not Black Phil, either.”
Obviously not.
“I know his name.”
You don’t.
“Mr. Boogie Pants.”
Not even close.
“Jeremiah Bullfrog.”
Still nowhere near the man’s name.
“Michael Balzary.”
Nope, that’s not…wait, that is his name. But he goes by “Flea.”
“Police chasing him?”
Not “Flee.” The small insect that likes to live in pets’ fur.
“Ah. Well, he seems like a decent sort. Don’t much care for the way he plays bass.”
Why not?
“Playing bass is like wiping your ass: if the thumb’s involved, you’re doing too much.”
Never thought of it that way.
“Most people don’t.”
So what is going to happen to Bobby’s outfits after a few weeks on the road with Don Was?
Hopefully, something like this:
https://www.reddit.com/r/gratefuldead/comments/6kf7l5/picture_of_the_day_1972/
http://www.feelnumb.com/2010/02/25/fleas-61-shell-pink-jazz-bass-with-d-boon-sticker/#lightbox/3/
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LwwRS00kSA8
was just listening to this (& The Gories).
“Watt just played Omaha. Other than his glasses falling off and his pants sliding down, same energy”