Looks to me like someone told him that one of the roadies disappeared with the band's stash.

I don't think he would have laughed at something like that, James. ;)

Thanks as usual....

What's the towel for?

OT-- I have a "pen pal" in New Zealand who I just last night referred to your blog. He is very curious about the intricacies of "real" Southern culture and about all the recent hurricanes. You were the obvious choice-- Besides Carl Hiason in Miami, you're the only true Sotherner from south of Orlando that I've ever encountered! Hey, it's the same way up here in Atlanta (there are damn few of us up here and everybody thinks we talk funny)...

I was wondering about the towel too. Maybe he'd just shaved some tiny little portion of his face. Or brushed his teeth.
Or maybe he was going to rip it into pieces and wrap one around his coricidin bottle.;) He did use gauze around it sometimes.

It didn't look like he was laughing to me...

Ah, so he's crying over the missing dope. Got it.

Naw, he's laughing because somebody suggested that maybe it was time for him to straighten out. Way on out.

He's crying because he realized the ABB signed the world's worst recording contract.

He's laughing because he's still getting ink 23 years after he died?

33 years this October. When you got it, you got it.

He doesn't get near enough ink, outside of guitar circles. He played on (arguably) the two finest albums rock-n-roll had yet produced. ("Layla" and "Live at the Fillmore East"). And yes, they're the finest because he played on them.

The cabin crew just told him he's been bumped for Richie Valens, Buddy Holly and the Big Bopper.