Singing of Praise, Pt. 4

I’ve sung his praises several times via this newsletter, but our stage manager/backline tech Steve “Bluto” Libby is a super hero. Imagine equal parts teddy bear, 800 series Terminator, and walking manifestation of nirvana, and you’re experiencing just the tip of the infinitely capable iceberg that is my aggravatingly handsome friend.

I’ve written before about his Herculean work capacity and utter refusal to accept anything done half-assed, but what’s stood out on this tour is his kindness. 

He’s the guy you want to watch shitty movies with at 3am, gain perspective from when you’re feeling all indignant and sanctimonious, and it’s the highlight of my day knowing I’ll be met with ice cold Jamison and a chortle when I exit stage left. 

I trust Steve. Because he’s a good man. Because he’s endured every obstacle this capricious business has on offer and, somehow, is the embodiment of patience. Because he’s seen me at my worst and still finds me inoffensive company, and maybe even occasionally funny.

If you’re lucky, you’re surrounded by pretty decent people. If you’re really lucky, maybe a few are great. If you’re crazy, stupid, preposterously lucky, one of them’s worthy of having their cherubic countenance carved along side Honest Abe on Mt Goddamn Rushmore.

And you can guess where I land on Steve “Bluto” Libby.