Past our Bedtimes

Set the scene: Sassafras, Hollywood, a dude named the Reverend who kinda sings like Sam Cooke, and his harmonica, backed by a bunch of bearded dudes. Inside of this scenario: When you happen to spot an actor from your Family Television show at a bar, late night, and you’re both drinking whiskey way past your bedtimes, the right thing to do is simply exchange knowing nods, but not fully acknowledge each other, so that you can both continue pretending like you don’t have to be up in 5 hours to make more Family Television.

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