BEER. FOOD. GUNS. The one the only tackle box bar and gun shop in Chico California where we played last night July 29. The kind of god-fearing, flag waving, meat eating venue that we ordinarily avoid, but you don't get an opportunity to play at a venue with a gun store every day.
i was pretty confident that we could connect with a bunch of Trump-ites, especially with the new songs. Who doesn't like to sing along to 'i took her to Smokin' Jack's Ribs Emporium/ turns out that she is a vegetarian' or 'doesn't seem to be no rhyme nor rule/ so many people are such assholes/ so many others are utter fools/ doesn't mean you've gotta be a tool'? Course they think we rad lefties are the asshole fools, but it still works.
Alas we didn't get a chance. We had an early set and some folks were having dinner, and we got about a minute into 'My Baby Likes to Smoke a Bong While I Go Down on Her Putong' when i felt a set of eyes boring into us and it was a very pissed off very unimpressed looking dude having dinner with his wife and two little boys. So we stopped and did Christmas Day in Australia, Savannah Kentuckiana, Cry Me a Rainbow etc instead, but we still managed to close with Hillbilly Hippie Haiku Heaven. it was definitely one rough fucking place and we mighty happy to get the fuck out of there and back on the road in one piece.
