“Anyway, where was I? There was some distraction. Some petty t-shirt bullshit? I don’t know, man: I don’t write this shit. Oh, yeah: Les Paul. Top notch gent.
“As you might know, Les had a regular gig at the Iridium jazz club in New York until, well, he couldn’t anymore. Well into his nineties, y’know? What else was he gonna do? That’ll be me, man.
“So, one time when the Dead was in the city, a couple of us went over to see him. Me and Phil and a couple other guys. Garcia was busy. And this was, uh, back in the analog era. I had an Apple Watch because of the Time Sheath, but there weren’t any cell towers of satellites, so it was just a watch. Actually, it doesn’t even work as a watch if you don’t have all the infrastructure. Not a great use of a time machine, if I think about it.
“We didn’t know New York that well, and we get in the cab expecting the cabbie does know the city, and we said Iridium and then just started talking and whatever. Next thing you know, we’re in Staten Island at an underground wrestling event. Here’s the truly, um, synchronous thing about it: Les Paul was there, too, wrestling under the name The Axeman.
“He may have straight-up murdered two teenagers in luchador masks. I mean, they lost a lot of bl–
“Thats sounds like a, um, job for our crack equipment crew.”
“Workin’ on it, boss!”
“Don’t call me that, Precarious. What’s going on out there.”
“Wally’s a little bit on fire.”
DO NOT CALL ME THAT AND PUT ME OUT RIGHT NOW.
“Workin’ on it!”
“Okay, everybody who doesn’t actually exist needs to go wait in the bus.”
“Define ‘exist,’ Bob.”
I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS ON THE QUESTION OF EXISTENCE.
I DO NOT FIT IN–