Thoughts On The Dead

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

Bruce Hornsby & The Ginge: Aftermath

“I was looking at that website of yours, Treyvon, and I noticed something about your schedule with your side-band.”

“Phish is not my side-band, and: okay?”

“Got a weekend open at the end of August.”

“Not really. Magnaball is the weekend before that, and then Dick’s is the weekend after, so we’re gonna kick up our heels for a bit, recharge, hang out with the families.”

“You don’t maybe wanna make another thirty million?”

“How many times are we going to have this conversation?”

“Until everyone agrees with me and the wheels have been set in motion for us to earn another thirty million dollars.”

“We’re going to Disney.”

“Stop talking right now. You know I love you, but I don’t like you right now.”

“Aw. Anyway, Phil’s out. Done. If he could have, he would have tossed a match over his shoulder as he left, setting off a massive explosion that he would walk away from in a badass fashion.”

“Eleven million from the webcast. Not the PPV or the movie theaters, and certainly not counting the DVD and CD and Commemorative Book with the Glossy Pictures. Just the webcast.”

“World’s gone mad, Bruce.”

“No argument here.”

“I really don’t think Phil wants to do it.”

“Then you stop by Frankie Fashion’s house on the way to the gig and pick him up.”

“Phish is not the Dead’s bench, man.”

“Why won’t you let the nice people give us their money?”


“What the fuck’s a magnaball?”

“It’s a hoot, is what it is.”

“Fine, don’t tell me.”

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