There’s this drop top caddy full of space monkeys slinging back bright purple cocktails, throwing the tiny cocktail umbrellas at each other and cackling their little simian chops off. The driver monkey, we’ll call him Bubba, adjusts his fez and leans forward to slip an 8 track into his Caddy’s lovingly restored player. Greg Packer’s rump shaking disco re-edits burst from the speakers and the remaining monkeys go apeshit (arf) screeching, leaping from their seats, and battering their heads with glee. The curtain closes, the audience applaud, and spontaneously boogie out onto the hot LA sidewalk of Sunset Strip.
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