May 17, 2011
George Clinton sits at a desk in his office located in Palo Alto, CA. He’s just finished lunch at Panera Bread and is preparing for his afternoon interviews with new bass players. The band’s old bass player, Billy “Bass” Nelson has left after several years. The P-Funk Allstars are ready to get back on the road. And they need a bass player. George reviews two candidates’ resumes and scarfs down the last of his Bacon Turkey Bravo. He then drops two tabs of LSD.
George Clinton: Janice? Is the first candidate here?
Janice: Yes Mr. Clinton. I’ll send him in.
Peter Libera walks into the door. He’s dressed professionally, two piece suit and loafers. He sits down.
Clinton: I’ll make this short Peter. Your resume is impressive. Juilliard-trained, with a Master’s in Musical Composition from Berkley. It says that you’ve been playing electric bass for thirty years.
Peter: That’s right Mr. Clinton. I’ve been a huge fan of yours for a long time. Ever since I heard “Maggot Brain” the sweeping arpeggios you used to harmonize on that track. Bernie Worrell’s syncopation with the time signatures. It just made me a fan for life.
Clinton: Peter, could you please put that dragon out? And if the wings get in the way again, then…uh… (shakes his head) Tell me about your bass.
Peter: I play a Fretless Rickenbacker bass. Hardwood body, maple neck, J-Pickups. It’s a 5-string because I like to have a few options when it comes to octave ranges.
Clinton: No. Tell me about your bass.
Peter: I’m afraid I don’t understand the question.
Clinton(sighs): Is your bass shaped like something?
Clinton: Is it shaped like something? You know, like a star, or a shark tooth? Or a tooth-tooth? Or a toot-toot? You know, like a car horn?
Peter: You’re asking me if my bass guitar is shaped like the sound a car horn makes?
Peter: I’m not even sure that’s possible. Anyways, I find that the tone quality becomes diminished on those novelty basses due to the fact that –
Clinton: Thank you Peter. We will let you know.
Peter walks out disheveled.
Clinton: Janice? Please send in the second candidate.
A man walks in wearing a women’s one-piece bathing suit, a furry cowboy hat, and a Ric Flair-esque glittering red bathrobe. He reeks of baby powder. George Clinton briefly thinks that it is his father, but decides that it’s probably just the acid.
Clinton: Hello Mr…, say I don’t think you put your name on your resume. This paper always eats names.
Man: My name is Strunk. And I can stump all y’all skunks.
Clinton: Hmm…I see. Well Mr. Strunk. Tell me about yourself.
Strunk: I was born of a Virgin. I was created entirely in a laboratory by the CIA. I was manufactured on a distant planet run by machines. I was originally designed as a weapon. But I’ve broken my shackles. I make the masses overdose on Funk, then I spread the ashes.
Clinton(interested): Really? Do you mind if I put this fog machine on while we talk?
Strunk: I’d prefer it actually.
Clinton: Tell me about your bass.
Strunk: It was forged on the furnaces of Mercury. It has already impregnated four separate women. Also, it’s shaped like Gumby.
Strunk: Yeah…Like Gumby. Except it’s bigger than the real Gumby.
Clinton(beaming): Strunk, you are hired my man. When can you start?
Strunk: As soon as the Mothership is fully operational.
Strunk gets up out of his chair and throws a handful of glitter in the air before turning around and walking out the door, leaving an elated Clinton behind.
Strunk takes a phone out of his pocket and dials.
Strunk: Hi Mom? It’s me, Albert. I nailed it!