jeffc17 wrote:I've not logged in for awhile either. Please tell me Larry is okay and just taking a sabbatical? Besides Jay, his insight into pop culture, from Gin Blossoms to Huey Lewis, is why I return. And the stories.
He announced a while back he was leaving. He seemed to indicate it was more than a sabbatical.
I've not logged in for awhile either. Please tell me Larry is okay and just taking a sabbatical? Besides Jay, his insight into pop culture, from Gin Blossoms to Huey Lewis, is why I return. And the stories.
Is ts&l still around? It's been a while since I've been here.
A while back I was bummed out because I had been kicked out of my band and my VCR repair career was going nowhere. I found myself in some sleazy dive bar south of Chicago in the middle of the day, drinking piss warm beer and chain smoking.
Suddenly I heard a man say “Hey, aren’t you that fucker that Tweedy just fired?” He started laughing, and all his punk friends did too. I was way outnumbered, so I didn’t dare stand my ground.
Then I felt a hand on my shoulder and a calm voice say, “You don’t have to take that crap.” I looked up and low and behold, it’s Jay Fucking Farrar. I tell Jay that I don’t think that’s such a good idea, but he laughs and turns to the crowd. “What did you just say to my fellow musician,” he asked them.
They laughed some more, and the one punk walked over and said “I asked him if he was the fucker that Tweedy just fired. Who the hell are you?”
Jay pulled off his enormous fake mustache and sombrero and said “I am Jay Farrar, and I fired Tweedy’s fucking ass, and now I am firing you!” With that Jay balled up his baby-soft hands and started wailing on the guy. The punk hit the floor.
Jay looked over at me, and said “Let’s kick some ass.” I said Ok and we started whipping some punk ass right then and there. I was hitting the women, mostly, and Jay was jumping from pool table to jukebox to bar with flying kicks and surgical precise punches.
We were going so fast I didn’t know what was happening. Finally, I realized that it was just me, Jay, and some sniveling punk that was hiding under a table. Jay grabbed this kid by the collar and pulled him out. He said “Please god don’t hit me I’m a fan!” Then he pointed to the Anodyne shirt he was wearing. Jay just laughed and said “Tupelo is dead, bitch!” and laid him out with a lightening fast sidekick.
I was speechless and told Jay I didn’t know what to say. He said “Don’t say anything. But one day I may call on you, and when I do, I expect you to repay this favor.” Then he put his huge fake mustache back on, and the sombrero, and walked to the door. That was the last I ever saw of Jay Farrar.