“There’s two different people. There’s Bobby, and then there’s Robert Pollard. Sometimes I forget,” says close friend Mike Lipps. He’s standing to the side, holding a beer, watching Bob surrounded by longtime, hard-core fans to whom he always allows access to the rock room. “I just can’t understand,” continues Mike, “how a guy who can make you laugh until it fucking hurts, who talks about nothing but sports and shit when we’re home, just like us, can write songs so beautiful they make you cry.”