At last the truth can be told, though the heavens may fall.
Bobby’s initial career as a slide player was marred by a disastrously timed coincidence: for most of late ’78 through spring ’82, Bobby would occasionally lose Object Permanence. He would be onstage and his ears would ring and vision narrow, and:
“HEY! I’m playing slide! Or maybe I have a glass finger! Maybe I’m a mutant with a shitty power! I hope I’m a mutant, I hope I’m a…HEY! Look at all those people out there! How did they get in my living room? I should fuck some of them! How about that one right…HEY! Look at those guys! I’m in a band! Why do we have two drummers? That seems like more trouble than it’s worth, especially since one of them seems to be punching people in the…HEY! I’m playing slide!”
And so on.
P.S. The sad thing is, I’d really enjoy writing a column over at Dead.net. And then I feel the need to write things like this.