Thoughts On The Dead

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

Patriot Expatriate

Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?

“I have, uh, ascended to the Iron Throne.”

Nope.

“Yeah, uh-huh. They upholstered it.”

No, that’s just a rich guy’s chair.

“I’m a rich guy.”

Different kind of rich guy. That’s a chair a railroad magnate would sit in while reading the evening paper and ordering a strike broken.

“I don’t even own one railroad.”

Let alone enough to qualify as a magnate. You excited about Mexico?

“That new kid they got, Santos? Hell of a striker. Goalie’s pretty good, too.”

Not the national soccer team. I meant the show coming up, Bob.

“Ah. Well, you know: gig’s a gig. If this goes good, though, we’re gonna do some more shows down there. Then maybe Canada. Thinking about taking Dead & Company to Europe this year.”

You fleeing the country?

“Wouldn’t you?”

Take me with you.

“I won’t even let you write my teevee show; why would I take you to Switzerland?”

You’re going to Switzerland?

“Pretend I didn’t say that.

Sure.

 

 

3 Comments

  1. Look what I am playing, Bobert.

  2. Mean, Green, Devil Eating Machine

    January 23, 2017 at 10:23 am

    Check out Bobby’s left hand – he’s giving the signal! One if by land, two if I see, no, wait, it’s “8, 9, 10…”, no, it must be one beat for to start “Minglewood”.

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