bobby-laundry-pins

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Oh, hey. I didn’t see you there over the scent of freshness and nature.”

What is this?

“Well, as you know, Josh Meyers has launched a new line of laundry products–”

The Laundress X John Mayer Collection.

“–and he just inspired the heck outta me. On tour this summer, he got a ten-year old scotch stain out of Snake T-Shirt. He was like some sort of magician, you know?”

Some sort.

“And what Josh is doing is interesting and I dig it, but I wanted to go back to laundry’s roots.”

What?

“Much like my new album–”

Blue Mountain.

“–explores a more vintage era, so too does my laundry. Music made by hand, laundry done by hand. Simple. Pure.”

Time-consuming.

“Yeah, you bet. Took me five hours to get these sheets up.”

That seems a bit long.

“They were fighters.”

Sure.

“When you wash your clothes the natural way, the way our ancestors did for thousands of years, then you just feel closer to nature. Literally close, since you’re on your knees on a riverbank. I actually got my clothes dirtier that way.”

Seems like a bad plan.

“So I used my pool.”

You have a pool?

“I used Phil’s pool.”

Ah.

“But I took a rock from the river to bang the clothes against, so it was kinda authentic. Then Jill started yelling at me and I had to stop. I took everything over to Billy’s laundromat, but he was sticking his dick in the change machine, so I came home and had the maid do it.”

Right.

“Other than that: total old-school. Hung up everything. Got these doohickeys here. They’re pins, and they hold the clothes up.”

Clothespins.

“If you say so. Like I said: vintage. There was a Comanche attack.”

There wasn’t a Comanche attack, Bobby.

“Thing about this natural drying system is that it doesn’t take much longer than a machine.”

That’s not true at all.

“It is, yeah, just for very limited circumstances. Hanging out your laundry in Death Valley is way faster than the dryer.”

What about those of us that don’t live in Death Valley?

“Way slower. And, you know: you hang up your clothes and the second you turn your back, an escaped convict sneaks through your yard and steals a pair of pants and a shirt. Happened twice already today. One even took the pie my wife, Natasha Monster, had placed on the windowsill to cool.”

Pie-stealing bastard.

“Right? In the old days, they’d string you up for stealing a man’s pie.”

I don’t think they would.

“The really old days.”

Yeah, okay.