Practicing My Blank Stare

I was at a show the other day, standing by the bar waiting for something to happen. A kid noticed the shirt I was wearing and waved me over.

"What?" I said, meaning "What exactly are you trying to sell me?" He asked if I had heard of [A Clever Pun On The Band Shirt I Was Wearing]. I told him I hadn't.

"Oh, they're a cover band, you should totally check them out." He said.

I nodded and disentangled myself from the conversation with a fantastic Jedi Maneuver that involved Time Travel!

Not really, but TIME TRAVEL IS AWESOME and dangerous in the wrong hands, which would be any set of hands (or hand) attached to a human being.

It took reserves of self control that I didn't know I even possessed to keep from going into a rant about how the only cover bands that I could ever give a shit about are all female avant garde, art-punk, reinterpretations, not a bunch of dudes playing songs that I already know note for note, in an inferior way to the original, because it could only be inferior because it's not original. Enough with the rehash already!

I'm sure he meant well, so it never got to that and to that end, I rewarded my good behavior with a drink.

Actually I bought a round of drinks for everyone and made it rain for posterity's sake.

Oh, who am I fooling....