Tour log (third story).
What is all the ruckus about? I told you we were bringing equipment with us. And no, we don't need unicycles. We can get around on our own two feet, thank you very much.
That's the problem with interstellar tours, my friends. A billion opportunities for misunderstandings. No shortage of those, particularly when you're traveling with the two Lincolns (posi- and anti-), as we appear to be out here on Big Green's vaunted [INSERT NAME HERE] INTERSTELLAR TOUR 2011. Anyway, here's how it went down this week:
10.25.2011 - Our first full night on Kaztropharius 137b. If anything, it's quiet - too quiet. Keep forgetting that there's no atmosphere here, ergo, no sound. (Or is it "air-go; no sound"? You decide.) We strummed our way silently through about a dozen tunes. The denizens of this strange little rock appeared partial to "My Bed", one of Matt's dream-sequence numbers. They pick up vibrations from our instruments via the floor of the venue. (They all appear to be equipped with stethoscopes. Looks kind of odd from on stage.) sFshzenKlyrn ripped the song a third corn chute, as the Simpsons once put it. Another triumph.
10.28.2011 - Pulling away after three successful gigs on Kaztropharius. By successful, I mean survivable... but only just barely. Anti-Lincoln
decided to take a stroll down by the river district, apparently. Well, he got kind of drunk and one thing led to another. I'm not precisely sure how he acquired the riding saddle, but however it happened, he seems to have won first prize. We are now band non grata on Kaztropharius 137b. Nice work, anti-Lincoln! Who's going to eat our discs now, pray tell?
10.29.2011 - Well, now he's done it. Marvin (my personal robot assistant) has trashed the hyperdrive. He has this self-preservation circuit that compels him to replace any defective parts with whatever's available. He needed a certain kind of chip for one of his motor circuits, and... well... he found one in our rent-a-ship's hyper drive. So now we're chugging along at the interstellar equivalent of 25 miles an hour, garbage scows passing us like we're standing still. Got a string of gigs waiting for us, and at this rate, we'll get to the first of them sometime in early 3109011 A.D. My guess is that they'll pull out on us. What's yours?
Oh well. Do me a favor, eh? Email me a diagram for a q47 space modulator chip. Just google it. Thanks a million.
That's the problem with interstellar tours, my friends. A billion opportunities for misunderstandings. No shortage of those, particularly when you're traveling with the two Lincolns (posi- and anti-), as we appear to be out here on Big Green's vaunted [INSERT NAME HERE] INTERSTELLAR TOUR 2011. Anyway, here's how it went down this week:10.25.2011 - Our first full night on Kaztropharius 137b. If anything, it's quiet - too quiet. Keep forgetting that there's no atmosphere here, ergo, no sound. (Or is it "air-go; no sound"? You decide.) We strummed our way silently through about a dozen tunes. The denizens of this strange little rock appeared partial to "My Bed", one of Matt's dream-sequence numbers. They pick up vibrations from our instruments via the floor of the venue. (They all appear to be equipped with stethoscopes. Looks kind of odd from on stage.) sFshzenKlyrn ripped the song a third corn chute, as the Simpsons once put it. Another triumph.
10.28.2011 - Pulling away after three successful gigs on Kaztropharius. By successful, I mean survivable... but only just barely. Anti-Lincoln
decided to take a stroll down by the river district, apparently. Well, he got kind of drunk and one thing led to another. I'm not precisely sure how he acquired the riding saddle, but however it happened, he seems to have won first prize. We are now band non grata on Kaztropharius 137b. Nice work, anti-Lincoln! Who's going to eat our discs now, pray tell?10.29.2011 - Well, now he's done it. Marvin (my personal robot assistant) has trashed the hyperdrive. He has this self-preservation circuit that compels him to replace any defective parts with whatever's available. He needed a certain kind of chip for one of his motor circuits, and... well... he found one in our rent-a-ship's hyper drive. So now we're chugging along at the interstellar equivalent of 25 miles an hour, garbage scows passing us like we're standing still. Got a string of gigs waiting for us, and at this rate, we'll get to the first of them sometime in early 3109011 A.D. My guess is that they'll pull out on us. What's yours?
Oh well. Do me a favor, eh? Email me a diagram for a q47 space modulator chip. Just google it. Thanks a million.
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