Spock Misses The Point

Last night I dreamt I was a roadie for Nirvana.  Yes, Kurt Cobain was alive in the dream.  They had a drummer named Yogi, and he was a crap drummer.  Actually I thought he was pretty good, but Kurt saw me tapping my fingers on the table to the radio one day and said, “Hey, you should be our drummer!  Yogi is shit, he can’t keep time.  At least you look like you have some rhythm.”  I thought no way.  I can’t drum for Nirvana!  Kurt kept insisting, so I ended up drumming at a small gig in a bar.  I thought I was pretty shite, but Kurt seemed encouraging.  He said afterwards, “You know, it wasn’t quite rocking enough for my taste, but you’re doing alright.  Just really rock out next time.  You were a bit… sissy this time.”  And that’s when I woke up.

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