When Phil makes that face, you need to give him about three feet of space or you’re getting bitten.
Is that a Fender?
“Yeah. But, you know, it still cost twenty grand.”
Oh, thank God. I was worried.
“It’s a ’59. This sucker liked Ike.”
He was a genial sort.
“People don’t know this about Eisenhower, but he was our most graceful president.”
“Moved like a panther.”
I learned something today.
Bobby’s wrist is reaching Johnny Deppian levels of tchotchkes and bric-a-brac.
Phil loves that green flannel so fucking much I cannot begin to describe it. It might be his wubby at this point. Don’t believe me? Here’s Phil tonight:
Several of you go to Terrapin Crossroads regularly; someone bring Phil a new shirt.