If Fred Gwynne and Al "Grandpa" Lewis had identical twin sons born a year apart... that would be pretty fucked up. Luckily, it never happened. Instead, Sir Robert once coaxed Stevie Ray Funyon from his quiet spider hole in the North Dade landfill, with promises of warm beer and no women, in return for panhandling with musical accompaniment. They were soon awash in puzzled stares, verbalized displeasure, and actual threats of violence and incarceration, as they began playing music on the coke-paved streets of Miami Beach.
Fast-forward 53 years, and Robert and Steve are once again at it, playing unlovable music to unappreciative pedestrians throughout the Bay Area. The chief difference these days is the ubiquity of cheap digital cameras, now allowing disinterested passers-by to document that weird band they didn't actually stop to listen to. The Funyons are grateful that these people's friends will now believe them.
wow. I'd forgotten about the funyons. I think I remember seeing you'all play Churchill's with the stun guns maybe or maybe I just bought that badass stun guns 7' but then it melted in my car in the florida heat. anyways, wow yeah.
