It is the year 2018. Due to death, disease, acrimonious lawsuits, prison sentences, and foreign prison sentences, there are only enough musicians to form one classic rock band. It makes festival season a lot simpler, but some people feel the whole experience is lacking. Also it’s all bass players.
This is from today at Phil’s (remember Phil?) restaurant; it was called the Big Bass Bash, and I swear to you that I thought the theme was fish. I saw another photo of just Mike, and I still didn’t figure out that the “a” was long.”
If you’re in a jam band, and you try to play a normal four-string bass like a human being, then men from the jam band union come and break your shoulders.
“Thank you, Mike.”
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Play your bass, young man.”
Heisenberg on drums.
Phil is wearing his summer flannel.
“How’s the tour going?”
“Great, Phil. Having so much fun. Making great music.”
“Yeah, but they hate us.”
“Phantasy Tour is crowdfunding hitmen.”
“I have no idea what that is, but I do like starting words that begin with ‘F’ with ‘Ph.’ You guys kinda stole that from me. Hitmen?”
“Yeah. To come and murder us for playing the songs wrong, or in the wrong order, or not long enough, or too long. Something.”
“Internet’s full of lunatics and obsessives.”
“There’s a motion to have Page impeached.”
“What does that even mean?”
“I hoped you knew.”
The longer I look at this picture, the harder I laugh.