Tag: David Lemieux (Page 3 of 8)

Hey, Dave.

“David.”

Your name tag says “Dave.”

“Yeah, I complained about it.”

Whatcha doing?

“Oh, these here are a Canadian delicacy. We call ’em sassypunts.”

Sassypunts?

“They’re delicious. The cookies are shortbread with just a touch of cinnamon, but the real fun is in the cream filling.”

Why?

“There’s crushed-up Tylenol 3’s in it.”

Nice.

“It’s an itchy cookie. Gotta say that. You will be itchy afterwards.”

Codeine is the white trash cousin of the opiate family. Are they for a special occasion?

“Oh, sure. April 12th.”

What’s April 12th?

“Trump Isn’t Our President Day.”

That’s a good holiday.

“Best there is.”

“Rando Disagreement?”

No, Dave–

“David.”

–it’s a Rando War.

“We don’t get that aggressive with our randos in Canada.”

What’s with the beer?

“I’m at the Dogfish Brewery. Very generous folks down here. I’m on my fifth or sixth bag of suds, eh?”

You’re not driving, are you?

“Yeah, but it’s a rental.”

That’s fine.

What’s going on here, David Lemieuxnriver?

“This is Dogfish brewery, where they make American Beauty beer. They were nice enough to give me a tour around the place.”

It looks a bit empty.

“There was a major robbery last night.”

Wow. Bad timing.

“I keep telling Sam that we can put off the tour, but he insists on showing me where things used to be. Sam’s the owner. Nice guy.”

I’m sure.

“And he keeps discovering new things that were stolen, and I think he’s gonna snap.”

Dave–

“David.”

–get out of there! 68% of all murders in the United States last year were committed by aggrieved brewers.

“I don’t think that’s right.”

It’s not.

“I’ll be okay.”

Is that pot of mash all that’s left?

“Apparently. It could have grown up so strong and full of bocks. But instead it gets dumped in a gutter in Delaware.”

There’s a metaphor in there somewhere.

“Delaware is made out of metaphors.”

Wow.

“Hey, hoser.”

This is very on-brand for you.

“I’m flying a lot of flags here, eh?”

You are. I am assuming this is a hockey game.

“No. This is Shickerbock, the traditional Canadian summer gathering. We assemble in huge groups and celebrate our Canadian natures.”

How?

“Hockey game.”

Sure.

“And our native dances, performances, and musical acts.”

So…hockey games and Rush?

“In Toronto, yeah. But, as you can see, we’re in Winnipeg. We got the singer with the deep voice from Crash Test Dummies.”

I don’t think any of this is true.

“It’s the greatest of all Canadian holidays. Better than Canadian Halloween, anyway.”

Why?

“Everyone goes as Gretzky. At this point, we should just rename it Dress Like Gretzky Day. But, yeah: Shickerbock is a laugh. All sorts of rides and games and attractions. Last year, we saw the Dionne Quints.”

They’re still alive?

“Two are. We stayed for the feeding. Amazing what nature can do, eh?”

None of this is real. You’re fibbing to foreigners.

“We go every year. Me, my wife–”

Regina.

“and Gordie, Girl Gordie, Jean-Luc, Northstar, Fleece, and the twins Billie and Mickie.”

Your children.

“Just love it. Chance to get out and meet your neighbors, be appropriately proud of one’s nation’s accomplishments while acknowledging that historical wrongs took place and actively working to correct the outcomes of those iniquities, and see fancy chickens. You ever see a fancy chicken? Not a humdrum chicken, mind you. Feathers all over the place, colors like you wouldn’t believe, real fancy chicken. You ever seen one of those?”

I don’t think so.

“You owe it to yourself.”

Sure. What’s 2019 look like for the Dead’s official releases?

“Four Dave’s Picks shows, plus a small box and maaaaaaybe a surprise thing, but don’t count on it.”

Why a small box?

“Because this year’s box cost a million dollars.”

Good point.

“We’re watching the store, man.”

True. Hey, what does “Shickerbock” mean? Is it German?

“No. It’s a First Nations word that means ‘Stop stealing our children.’ But it sounded so cool that we named the fair that.”

Language is a funny thing.

Jesus. What the fuck, David Lemieux, archivist for the Grateful Dead?

“It’s my birthday salmon. You know the old saying: Catch a salmon on the day of your birth, and you’ll be the luckiest boy on the earth.”

I do not know that saying. That is not a saying.

“Might be just a Canadian thing.”

Yes. That’s a healthy-looking specimen.

“Oh, sure. This ol’ girl will feed my wife–”

Regina.

“–and my seven children for months.”

Gordie, Girl Gordie, Jean-Luc, Fleece, Northstar, and the twins, Billie and Mickie.

“Right. My family.”

Wait. There’s nine of you. That’s a big fish, but it won’t last months.

“None of my children is over eight inches tall.”

Not true.

“We’re raising them like they were normal-sized, though. Except for the cat thing. We’ve had to instill a deep and primal terror of cats into them. Normal kids can play with kitties, but Gordie is the biggest one and he’s the size of a gerbil. Just can’t be around cats.”

You just make stuff up. Can you call up Queen’s archivist and have him clean some shit up and release it, please?

“I don’t know Queen’s archivist. There isn’t a group chat of people who maintain legacy bands’ vaults.”

There should be.

“Yeah, it would be fun. We could exchange tips about alphabetization, and stories about annoying fans.”

I bet Zappa’s fans are the biggest dicks to their archivist.

“I could see that.”

Anyway, Dave–

“David.”

–happy birthday. Many more.

“Thanks, buddy.”

One last question.

“Don’t ruin it.”

You gonna fuck the fish?

“You ruined it. It was nice, and you ruined it. This is why no one likes being part of your little sketches.”

I’m not judging you. Are you going for the mouth or will you slice it open and belly-fuck it?

“You’re on time-out with me. One week. We’re done for one week.”

Aw.

That’s the biggest band-aid I’ve ever seen, David Lemieux.

“It’s a snowboard.”

Oh, good. Because any injury that requires a band-aid that large is an injury that requires more than a band-aid.

“Not a band-aid.”

Do you snowboard?

“Oh, no. Canadians have the ability to run on top of the snow. Kinda like a basilisk lizard on water.”

Like this?

“Yeah, just like that.”

Wow. You are a fascinating people.

“That’s how Gordon Lightfoot got his name.”

I’m learning so much. Dave–

“David.”

–I’m listening to the new Pick from ’76 for the third or fourth time, and it’s superb. Good work, man.

“1976 is a sleeper year. Big thick slow jams.”

Like maple syrup.

“Y’know, it’s kind of enough with the Canadian jokes. I have a personality outside of my nationality.”

Oh, hey, I’m sorry.

“I’ve got hobbies.”

Like?

“Socialism, cross-checking, that sort of thing.”

Universal topics.

“There you go.”

Getting back to DaP 28: it’s spectacular. And it’s just the lastest in a long line of wonderful releases. Bravo.

“Thanks, man. Means a lot to hear that.”

Pardon the pun, but I’m grateful.

“I see what you did there, eh?”

And to show my gratitude, I have decided that you can do gay stuff to me.

“What now?”

Gay stuff. And don’t hold back! Don’t make the stuff just sort of gay. Do the gayest stuff you can imagine to me. Fuck me, fist me, describe me as a “confirmed bachelor” in my obituary: gay it up, bro.

“I’m gonna pass.”

Is it that you’d rather receive the homosexuality than issue it?

“You have such an unpleasant way with the English language.”

I’ll mount you if that’s what you want.

“Passing on that, too.”

Is it the dominance thing? If you’d like, we can hand each other. That way, we’re equal.

“None of it. Don’t get anywhere near me. You really want to show your appreciation for the official releases?”

I absolutely do.

“Have you considered paying for them?”

Unnecessary.

“Sorry.”