bob weir

Hey, Bobby. How you–

“POTATO SALAD TIME!”

Yeah, huh?

“Right? You were too busy admiring the ‘Tater to notice whatever’s going on with my collar.”

Holy guacamole, what fresh hell is hanging around your neck, man?

“No idea. Best I can figure is that it’s someone’s conception of what we’ll be wearing in the future.”

Like Paul Reiser’s suits inĀ Aliens?

“Exactly like that, yeah. But less Jewish.”

Naturally.