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

Tag: jake peavy

Three Men And A Peavy

mickey peavey bill walton parish

If you make t-shirts, then Mickey will be there.

OR

Major league potato salad.

OR

Feeling nostalgic, Parish picked a fat guy with a beard at random, and then punched someone for getting to close to him.

OR

There are at least three couples having kayak-sex in McCovey Cove behind Mickey.

OR

Why, Jake Peavey, how do you do?

“Fine. Thank you. Nice to meet a fan.”

Look at you all poured into that uniform. What’s your batting average?

“I’m a pitcher.”

I was hoping.

“Really?”

What kind of grip do you use on your balls, Jake Peavey?

“Just one E in the last name.”

One E, got it. What about a D?

“Listen, man: I’m in a relationship. We met at a show. Right on Shakedown.”

That sounds like a bad idea.

“No, it’s wonderful. I’m very happy. Oh, there they are.”

They?

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“YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH POLYAMORY, BIGOT?”

“LOVE IS LOVE!”

You guys know Captain Fuck?

“HE MARRIED US!”

“AND THEN FUCKED US!”

I’m done.

Tiger, Tiger Burning Shore

parish jake peavy tiger

You might remember that Tiger came through town last week or so; a pitcher named Jake Peavy borrowed the thing and everybody took pictures and this one is sweet. There are only a handful of people who can claim any sort of ownership of Tiger. Legally, of course, Irsay is the owner. But that guitar’s got a little bit of Parish in her: he didn’t build her, or play her, or buy her; Parish made sure no one stole it. Tiger was surrounded by intensely sketchy people for most of her career, but she always went home with the right guy.

Also, I’m pretty sure that’s Jason Newsted’s kid.

A Note On Jim Irsay: worse people could own Tiger. He’s got all his guitars–150 or so–in a secure place with the right humidity and whatnot, plus he hired a guy to take care of them. It could be worse, but then again…

irsay tiger

…it probably couldn’t be. Rock and fuckin’ roll, Jimmy.

Hold That Tiger

Meanwhile back at TXR, the other side of this semi-dysfunctional, choogly-type family is up to all sorts of shenanigans. Phil and his Phriends are playing a show from 1987. TotD has, through careful sleuthing–

You googled it.

–determined that the show is 9/18/87 from Madison Square Garden, which was released as part of the 30 Trips set, but is also available as a Healy UltraMatrix; someone better-informed than TotD can fill us all in as to what precisely an UltraMatrix is in the Comment Section, but whatever their makeup, the sound is unique and maybe you’ll like it, and maybe you won’t.

But there’s more, Enthusiasts: Jim Irsay got all pilled up and sent Tiger on a field trip; it’s been wandering around the Bay Area like the Stanley Cup and I’m expecting to see Tweeted pictures of rando babies napping on it. Perhaps it will be taken to inner-city schools to inspire poor children. Will the lame be permitted to lay their twisted flesh upon it, that they may be healed?

Tiger has made friends with baseball pitchers:

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And reunited with the Lesh family:

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Phil got in on the action, too:

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And then Phil handed Tiger into the audience, where it was passed from Deadhead to Deadhead; everyone got a turn.

As usual, though, TotD has a member of the Haight Street Irregulars in the audience (if we’re honest, he’s a full-fledged FoTotD) and he sent along this sweet shot of Phil and Grahame:

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Fun fact: that is Kidd Candelario’s head in the foreground.

Less fun fact: from the angle of this shot, TXR needs to step up security. Maybe some velvet ropes, or give the busboys truncheons; I don’t know; I’m not a restaurateur.

Funnish fact: a silent letter is written but not pronounced; the “n” that is pronounced but not written in the word “restaurateur”is the opposite of a silent letter. (See also: the second “r” in “sherbet.”)