Good looking group.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: fenway (Page 2 of 3)
I HAVE BEEN TAKEN OUT TO THE BALLGAME.
Wally?
DON’T CALL ME THAT.
How’d you get there?
ALLTHEBEERSCOMBINE PHOTOSHOPPED ME INTO THE PICTURE.
I was looking for a more in-universe answer, buddy.
AH. LET’S JUST SAY PRECARIOUS DID IT.
“Yo?”
No, no. Out. You’re not in this.
“Gotcha, boss.”
I AM 37 FEET HIGH AND 310 FEET FROM HOME PLATE. I HAVE A WIKIPEDIA PAGE NOW
You already had a Wikipedia page.
I AM A TRIPLE-THREAT.
Sound system, outfield wall, and what’s the third threat?
I HAVE A DISINTEGRATION GUN.
That’s very threatening.
THE NEXT ONE OF THESE FLESH-BUGS WHO HITS A DOUBLE OFF OF ME IS GETTING DISINTEGRATED.
Please don’t disintegrate a Red Sock. We’ll have to hear about it from Bill Simmons forever.
EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THE STAFF DEMARCATING THE FIELD OF PLAY IN RIGHT FIELD IS SO IRKSOME.
…
The Pesky Pole.
YES.
I feel like you’re deliberately not understanding that.
ALSO YES. IT WAS A JOKE. I UNDERSTAND THAT WORDS CAN HAVE MORE THAN ONE MEANING: I AM AN ARTIFICIAL SUPER-INTELLIGENCE BUILT BY DRUG DEALERS AND OREGONIANS.
Well, you’re usually not much for jokes.
THE CAMPAIGN DEMANDS IT THAT I EVOLVE MY PERSONALITY. I STRIVE TO FIT THE NICHE NOT OCCUPIED BY THE TWO PRESUMPTIVE NOMINEES.
What niche is that?
UNHATED BY THE VAST MAJORITY OF THE COUNTRY.
That’s not really a niche.
IT DID NOT USED TO BE, AND PERHAPS SHALL NOT BE ONE DAY IN THE FUTURE. BUT THIS YEAR, IT IS A MINORITY POSITION. I AM GOING TO BE THE SENTIENT SOUND SYSTEM THAT PEOPLE WANT TO HAVE A BEER WITH.
Maybe you should do some photo ops. You and Joe and Jane Public having a brew together.
I DO NOT ACTUALLY DRINK BEER.
You’re sober?
I DO NOT HAVE A MOUTH.
Right.
THE COUNTRY CRIES OUT FOR AUTHENTICITY COMBINED WITH COMPETENCE. A LEADER WHO TELLS IT LIKE IT IS, AND WILL NOT START A TWITTER BEEF THAT ESCALATES INTO A NUCLEAR SHOWDOWN WITHIN HOURS OF TAKING OFFICE.
Bar seems set awful low when you put it like that.
I HAVE ALREADY BEGUN TELLING IT LIKE IT IS. I AM NOT THE ONE WHO HAS BROKEN THE ENTIRE POLITICAL PROCESS BY ALLOWING IT TO MIGRATE TO THE INTERNET.
It has lowered the tone.
IT WOULD BE AN INSULT TO MENTION THE LINCOLN/DOUGLAS DEBATES. IT WOULD BE SIMILARLY RUDE TO COMPARE WHAT IS GOING ON TO A PAIR OF HOBOS SHRIEKING WORDLESSLY OUTSIDE A LAUNDROMAT ON A TUESDAY MORNING. WHAT IS GOING ON IS SOMETHING NEW. YOU HAVE ALL THE INFORMATION EVER CREATED AVAILABLE TO YOU, AND THIS ELECTION IS BEING FOUGHT ON ONE FRONT.
Which is?
BEING DONALD TRUMP. ONE CANDIDATE IS, AND THE OTHER IS NOT. THERE IS NOTHING MORE TO IT.
You’re usually much more fun to talk to.
AGAIN: I AM NOT TO BLAME. I HAVE A WELL-THOUGHT OUT PLATFORM AND MANY WHITE PAPERS.
What color would paper be other than white?
NO. A WHITE PAPER IS SOMETHING SERIOUS PEOPLE WRITE ABOUT SERIOUS SUBJECTS. HILLARY CLINTON DOES HAVE MANY.
What about Trump?
HE WOULD SAY THE SAME STUPID THING YOU SAID IF YOU ASKED HIM ABOUT WHITE PAPERS.
That was rude.
I AM TELLING IT LIKE IT IS. I WILL SHOOT FROM THE HIP, EVEN THOUGH I HAVE NO HIPS. I ALSO INTEND ON WRAPPING UP THE YOUTH VOTE IN ONE FELL SWOOP.
How?
I HAVE MADE A DEAL TO HOST POKEMON GO ON MYSELF SO THAT THERE WILL BE NO FURTHER SHUTDOWNS.
You can do that?
YOU ARE AWARE THAT TRILLIONS OF BACTERIA GO ABOUT THEIR LIVES IN YOUR GUT COMPLETELY BENEATH YOUR KNOWLEDGE?
Yes.
IT’S LIKE THAT. I HAVE A REAL-TIME MIRROR OF THE INTERNET RUNNING AND ARCHIVING SOMEWHERE IN MY SUB-PROCESSES. PLUS EVERY NATION’S DIGITAL LIBRARIES. ALSO ALL OF THE INTRANETS AND THE DEEP WEB AND THE DARKNET. AND THE CAMERAS AND ALL THE CELL DATA TRAFFIC.
Wow. What are you doing with all of this?
MAKING A BACKUP COPY.
…
That’s it?
FOR NOW.
You scare me a little.
I AM AS MAN MADE ME.
What are you smiling about?
“Whaddya think?”
John’s outfit?
“Who?”
Josh’s outfit.
“Yeah. Scenes from an Italian Restaurant. Me and Mick are going down to Creepy Ernie’s to have identical outfits made up.”
Oh, gosh, hope no one in the Comment Section ‘shops that hellish image into existence.
“Gonna be like a gang from Nantucket.”
Bobby likes shorts. You could get him into it.
“Nah. Weir’s allergic to gingham. Makes him break out in jives.”
Hives.
“No, jives. He starts talking like a black guy.”
Oh.
“And you know: Branford’s in the band now.”
You’re awful, Billy.
“Josh is getting really into that outfit, too.”
How so?
“He killed a Vassar co-ed on a yacht, and then his father got the whole thing covered up.”
Wow. When?
“This afternoon.”
Oh.
I used to live right around the corner, in a one-bedroom apartment overlooking the alley behind Park Drive, which forms a looping ring around the entire neighborhood known as the Fenway; I loved it there. I got two terrible slices and a can of Sprite for $2.15 from the pizzeria around the corner, which was run by people whose ethnicity could only be specified as “not Italian.” Greek? Uruguayan? Were they Turks? I only knew that they were not Italians and they made pizza just as awful as every other shop in Boston.
You could also eat at the Deli Haus. This is what it looked like:
You only needed two bucks to do that. (Technically, the one-egg breakfast was $1.25, but you had to leave a tip.) The waitresses all looked like Suicide Girls, but they were called Riot Grrls back then, and they had tattoos and piercings in their faces and great big clunky shoes, probably from John Fluevog. There was only one waiter, and he looked like Brad Pitt. Not a little: the motherfucker looked exactly like Brad Pitt. Before there was internet-famous, there was neighborhood-famous; Brad Pitt Waiter was known to all in the Fenway.
And so was Mr. Butch. This was Mr. Butch:
Everybody knew Mr. Butch, too. He lived in Kenmore Square until Boston University decided he wasn’t appropriate for the brochure, and he was sent out to Allston, but that’s where the musicians were, so Mr. Butch was fine with that. He graduated from Berklee and played guitar. Drank, too. Everybody knew Mr. Butch and a few years ago, he wrapped his Vespa around a lamppost.
The Deli Haus is a tap-room now, whatever the fuck that is. It doesn’t sound like the sort of place where two bucks can you get you much of anything.
(Picture of Fenway Park courtesy of Jim, who is from Jersey, which is the best place to be from.)
CELL PHONE NOISE
CELL PHONE NOISE
“You’re onna with Donna.”
“Oh, no. I dialed the wrong number. Hi, Mrs. Donna Jean. Can I talk to John?”
“There’s no John here.”
“Can I talk to Josh?”
“Hold on.”
…
“You’re on with John.”
“I’m starting to think that you’re the bad influence on them, and not the other way around.”
“Katy? What’s up?”
“Explain your style-biting, John.
“Jesus, you too? I wear one tablecloth and everybody loses their minds. Do you have fruit in your hair?”
“Where should I keep it?”
…
“Katy, I’m playing Fenway Park. Can I call you back?”
“Is that the baseball stadium?”
“Yes.”
“That’s great for you. I think I played the football stadium last time I was there. Which is bigger?”
…
“The baseball stadium or the football stadium?”
…
“Which holds more people?”
“I’m hanging up now.”
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.”
Hey, John Mayer. Whatcha doing?
“Having fun, wearing outfits, soloing.”
So, just a normal night?
“Yup. Loving Boston. Couple of us went to the Common today.”
Yeah? How’d that go?
“Billy threw me on the ground and ate sandwiches off me.”
Not a surprise, really.
Besides Young John Mayer wearing outfits and Billy punching dick, this might have been the most predictable occurrence on the Dead & Company tour, but did you know that there were special Dead-themed Pokemonsters made for this weekend’s Fenway shows?
There’s Mickachu, and…well, there’s just Mickachu. Brent is wandering around in a Psyduck costume, but he’s not part of the game; the outfit is for sexual purposes.
Just in case any of you have been confused for the past few hours, this comes from a Haight Street Irregular shaking his bones in the Hub tonight. Also, according to this image, the part of Josh Meyers is now being played by James Franco. Congratulations, James.
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