Why are you here?
“You are a hurtful and bitter man.”
Be on tour. Go play arenas. Get blowjobs and buy sneakers. I deal with you when I have to. You’re like good-looking herpes.
All you heard was “good-looking,” right?
How’s your tour going?
“Dude, so awesome. No one’s called me Josh in weeks. Haven’t been dosed in a while. Oh, and the crowds? Hotter.”
I would imagine.
“No, you can’t. You cannot imagine how much more fuckable a John Mayer solo show crowd is than a Dead & Company show.”
I bet you got some Deadheads coming out now, though.
“Oh, yeah. Know how I know?”
Are they yelling out for Dark Star?
“They are. Every night. You know that Billy Joel song Leave A Tender Moment Alone?”
“Well, Deadheads don’t do that. Deadheads see a tender moment, and they yell Dark Star. It’s like hippie Tourette’s.
I’m sure someone’s going to be offended by that.
“Hey, at least I didn’t say anything racist about my dick.”
“The Dark Star thing has to stop. Can you tell people?”
No one takes my advice on anything ever.
“It’s fucking absurd. I tried to talk to one of them the other night.”
Oh, don’t do that.
“I learned my lesson. Guy shouts out Dark Star, so I say–calmly, reasonably–‘Hey, man, we don’t know that tune.'”
“So, he yells ‘The chords are A and G! It’s in D minor!’ And I’m like, ‘Yeah, I know,’ but he cuts me off. ‘It’s a modal jam!'”
Got a music theory major in the crowd.
“Threw me off my game. I couldn’t make my faces for three or four solos.”
Three or four solos? So…half a song?
Good seeing you, Josh.
“Follow me on Instagram!”
God help me, i do.