The events of the past few days have been many and weird, and I don’t really know where to begin. Boston was an absolute blast — we still can’t believe PJ’s gone, especially when we look around the van and see how much of his stuff is still here. Lewiston and Rochester were the usual knock-down, drag-out, bare-knuckle hoedowns we’ve come to expect, and we met some downright good people in both Erie and Indianapolis. We concluded our work week last night by playing at a hair salon in Milwaukee, then riding a giant electric pepper into the night. Onward to Madison.

Our mini-tour with PJ “Purple Jesus” Loughran is finally drawing to a close. It’s only been four days, but we’re already finishing each other’s sentences and prank calling each other’s parents and sharing milkshakes and holding hands on the beach, and I think we’ll all be a little teary when we’re eating our post-show dinner in Boston and saying the big goodbyes.

Otherwise, the shows have been an unqualified blast and the audiences top notch. We keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Thank you all for making this so much fun.

And so it continues. We hadn’t realized that DC was such a Speech-friendly city, but after playing what felt like a hometown show in Adams Morgan last night, I guess it shouldn’t come as that much of a surprise that we, the occupational descendents of Noonan and Frum, should find ourselves so completely at ease in our nation’s capitol.

Giant, dripping, heartfelt thanks to Tami DiChellam, John Henry Dale and the legendary Adam Richman for gracing our stage with their collective presences. The big news for today is that PJ Loughran has now entered the mix, so if you live anywhere in the Northeast and are reading this, rest up and consider yourself warned.