Stop looking at Mickey, Jeff Chimenti.
“I can’t. His doohickeys are vibrating.”
Did he explain himself before the performance?
“Kinda. He said, ‘New Brent–‘”
He still calling you that?
“–I’m tired of being a Vulcan. I’m an Andorran now.”
Is that a Space Track reference?
“Maybe. I’m not a nerd.”
Good for you. Stop looking at him.
“He’s just so fascinating.”
In his own way.
“I can’t even look at you.”
“Take me to your leader.”
“You’ve got a hat and I don’t give you shit for it.”
“Hat, Mick. I have a hat. You have an Andy Warhol wig and deelybobs on your head.”
“Still a hat.”
“Just because it’s on your head doesn’t make it a hat. When skank sits on my face, that doesn’t make them masks.”
“You’re looking at this with a very narrow view.”
“Can we not argue ontology right now? We’re playing Jack Straw too slow.”
“Take me to your leader.”
“This is why I get paid more than you.”
Is Elton’s hairpiece balding now? That guy’s skull truly does not want anything on top of it.
One time on the ’72 Europe tour, the Bozo bus was pissed and fighting. Bad vibes, man, and pointed silences. And then Bobby started singing Tiny Dancer. Everyone listened for a second, and then joined in with each other throwing shit at him and calling him names.
Elton John and Bernie Taupin were a better songwriting team than Lennon/McCartney. I will defend this opinion no matter how indefensible it is.
Are those mass-produced glasses? Because I cannot think of another human being who could pull them off other than Elton John. (Don’t let Josh Meyers see them.)
Mickey, is Sir Elton John sexually harassing you?
“A little, but it’s fine.”
It’s not fine.
“Sure, it is. He’s a knight. Prima nocte.”
Okay, first of all: prima nocte is a myth. Second of all: that is not what this is.
“Droit du seigneur?”
That’s just French for prima nocte.
“I’m getting a real education here.”
Mickey, don’t put up with sexual harassment from Sir Elton John.
“I’m into it. The English harass in such classy ways.”
“When he grabbed my dick, his pinky was out.”
“I can handle myself.”
“Is it okay if I send him to Josh’s dressing room?”
Do I want to know what’s in the sack?
“Not a human.”
–a human? Okay.
“Just let this one go, boss.”
It’s gonna be tough.
“Suck it up.”
“Let it go.”
“I got a new hat, too!”
You did. It’s spiffy.
“Thank you. I yoinked it.”
Mickey, that’s not yoinking. That’s just shoplifting.
“Semantics are for lawyers. I’m a drummer. I see a hat I like, I yoink the hat. You think Billy paid for his?”
Oh, of course not. Billy hasn’t paid for anything since 1967.
“The man charges his tuggers back to the band. Plus, he shakes Black Phil down for his per diem.”
Oteil. The man’s name is Oteil.
“I don’t think that’s right.”
Let’s move past it. You all ready for the tour?
“Fuck, yeah. Been ready since…since…”
The last tour ended?
“About there, yeah.”
Got everything all packed up?
“Yup. 20 cases of chewing gum.”
“You’ll like this. In addition to the clogs, I will also be playing galoshes this tour.”
Wow. What song.
“It’s a surprise.”
“I have a number of hats to troll Bobby with.”
Oh, not just the sailor’s hat this time?
“I’ve gone bigger. To show my dislike of Lost Sailor, I will be donning an old-fashioned diving helmet this tour.”
“And I’ve got a little striped engineer’s cap for Casey Jones.”
You’re all set.
Go get ’em, tiger.
What the fuck?
“We thought it provided an incongruously beautiful mise-en-scene.”
“Fucking with ya. I got no idea why we put that up.”
What are the monitors propped up on?
“Pizza boxes full of sand.”
It’s the Grateful Dead way.
The true depths, the abyssal reaches, that the Dead’s bush leagueosity permeate to are revealed when you realize that they couldn’t even all face in the same direction most of the time.
Go read Groucho: The Life and Times of Julius Henry Marx. It’s a much sadder story than you’d think.
And then go watch Duck Soup. It’s much funnier than you remember.
- Classic iPod. (Behind Mrs. Donna Jean.)
- Amazon Echo. (In between Mrs. Donna Jean and Garcia.)
- Two iPads. (To the left of Billy and Mickey.)
- Phil’s booty. (Behind Phil.)
- Precarious Lee’s handiwork. (Bottom left.)
Is that a humidor?
“On top of the monitor?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Is that secure? That angle is rather…
“It’ll be fine.”
Your words don’t fill me with confidence.
“I duct taped it.”
Oh, well, then it’s fine.
I was being sarcastic.
“I know. Don’t care.”