In the distance, where the hills ran parallel to the stream of frissile blue water his best goat drowned in summer last, there were Comanche; The Guitarist had seen them, once, outside of a town whose name was unknown to him. The fierce horribles, gnashing ghastlies in mufti and chaps; some naked, and painted, not with paint; one had a stovepipe hat and a slavewoman’s ass for a saddle; blood-eyed mustang unsaddled madness in the red-specked snow of a winter that doesn’t belong to the white man around here.
And Mrs. Donna Jean thought, “Oh, not this shit again.”
OR
We’ve got ourselves an old-fashioned chin-off, Enthusiasts.
OR
Aw, they gave Bobby the clavés.
OR
This is another pic from FoTotD Ste4ve (pronounced Stuh-FOUR-vuh) and maybe if you say nice things to him in the Comments Section, then there will be more. or maybe not: people with numbers in their names are often squirrelly, as exemplified by New York Times reporter Jennifer 8. Lee. That woman’s squirreliness is off the charts.
Love these old Archive shots!!!! Another one form Santa Barbara?
Speaking of controversial percussion choices, TotD guy is going to the Florida Phishes show tonight, right? Tickets are down to $16 on StubHub! Never miss a Sunday show, etc
That’s a really nice pic Ste4ve
Thanks Ste4ve
Thank you St4eve.
Why so serious?