Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: bob weir (Page 77 of 198)

Three Men Who Are Better Drummers Than Ringo

bobby paul mccartney gronk 3

“Robert.”

“It’s actually Bobert.”

“It’s singing. Into my microphone.”

“He’s an excitable boy.”

“It smells like aggressive cheese.”

“I can’t respond to that. Lemme ask you a question: where’s your armor?”

“I’m not that kind of knight, Bob.”

“Another question.”

“Yes?”

“You dye your hair?”

“Next question.”

“I been thinking about it. Jet black like a professional wrestler. Maybe leave a couple grey stripes in the beard.”

“Why on earth would yo do that?”

“I got a new kid in the band who’s pulling focus. Need something for the crowd to look at.”

“GRONK WANT BE PAPERBACK WRITER!”

“We’re not even playing that, Bob. He doesn’t know the words.”

“Never stopped me, Yoko.”

“Bob?”

“Sure?”

“Why does everything look so odd?”

“Like an Instagram filter?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I think he stole the picture from Instagram, probably.”

“‘He?’ What? I don’t understand.”

“Are you familiar with the concept of semi-fictionality?”

Singer, Ginger

bobby rando ginger family

Jesus, how many randos does a rock band go through on a tour?

“You got no idea. First, you got your accidental randos. Then there’s the ones who pay to be randos.”

VIPs?

“They call ’em that to make ’em feel good, but: yeah. Just professional randos. Y’know, if you got a couple hundred bucks, you could get a picture.”

Or you could just hire me to write the Amaz–

“Shit, look at the time.”

Thought so.

“Definitely her kids.”

Oh, yeah.

What’s Black, White, And Red Metal Stool All Over?

donna jm bobby fenway

Gingham Rogers.

“Stop it.”

Maryann and Gingham.

“Stop it.”

Gingham? Hardly even know ’em!

“Terrible.”

Oppa gingham style.

“You stole that from someone in the comments.”

“You done?”

Well, we named that little guitarist Checkers. I like him, and my wife, Natasha Monster likes him, and the Deadheads like him. And you know what? We’re going to keep that little guitarist.

“That wasn’t awful.”

It’s an election year, so I thought it was timely.

“Now are you done?”

Yes.

“Great.”

GIIIIIIIIIIIINGham back home…

“I hate you.”

…with a song I used to hear….

“We’re done.”

I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll stop.

“Yeah?”

Yeah. Totally. Sorry, man. Hey, what’s your favorite Truckin’?

“Ooh, good question. I guess the Winterland from ’78.”

Not 11/6/77 in Ginghamton?

“Fuck you.”

Sleepy Alligator In The Noonday Sun

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Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?

“Plotting my next move against Dr. House.”

George Hearst.

“Sure, sure. Gotta get that gold from the hula-hoopers.”

Hoopleheads.

“Gesundheit. Y’know, I’m kinda surprised we haven’t seen a Grateful Deadwood type deal.”

With you guys playing the parts?

“Sure. There’s, uh, Mrs. Calamity Jean.”

Nice one.

“Josh could play the sheriff.”

He doesn’t have the range.

“Mickey is Sol Star.”

Obviously.

“And Oteil could play the–”

Stop talking, Bob.

“Oh. Yeah.”

What are you reading, anyway?

“Checking out your site, actually.”

Really?

“No.”

Sure.

Front Five

deadandco football folsom

Bobby’s jersey says LORAX.

Also, Jeff Chimenti is my favorite person. Look at him, all goony and happy and magical. If you catch Jeff Chimenti, then he must grant you wishes; if you made a paintbrush from his hair, the art you create would go with any sofa. Jeff Chimenti talks in his sleep, but only inspirational messages and compliments. An anagram for “Jeff Chimenti” is not “Wow, he’s great.”

Also also: the fun and games are over. I need to know where Billy was.

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