Funk Is Its Own Reward

At the P-Funk concert last night, three people asked if I'd "Seen Molly." Since I'd already bumped into a friend of my brother's I didn't recognize, I had to stare at the first girl who asked and think "Do I recognize this person? Why would she be asking about my friend without introducing herself?" I answered "Not here" to see if she would ask a follow-up question.

In case you're keeping track, more people asked me for drugs at George Clinton & Funkadelic than at The Chemical Brothers. I don't remember anyone asking me for drugs at Michael Franti & Spearhead or Kraftwerk (all shows at the Fillmore). I don't think anyone's ever asked me for drugs at the Boulder Theater or the Fox Theater. P-Funk is also the only show I've seen where somebody (two, in fact) tossed a joint to someone on stage who then lit up. Caveat: I've never been to Reggae on the Rocks. And in a reversal of stereotypical roles, a black guy with corn rows secretly reached over and touched my hat. Oh, and Maggot Brain is totally awesome.

One of my favorite Onion articles ever was Clinton to Parliament: It's Time To Drop DA BOMB On Iraq.