The Dead was a good band, fine and manly. They first met as volunteer firemen in the Boer War. That was a fine war: manly as all wars were, except the French-Indian War, which was some totally homo shit.
Okay, we’re fine with stretching the truth, but that’s just wrong.
But I look like your guitar player.
Thank you. Next: E.D.?
When Etna purrs
Have not left my room
since I discovered the Archive
So, it’s just poetry and frilly blouses and your meals being brought to you, right?
Thank you, sweetie. Next: R.H.
The Dead were like my testicles: hairy and they knew how to swing, man. Check out this MONSTERLICKER–
You sound familiar.
–of a show from 2/15/70 in Philly, that I haven’t actually listened to yet, just pretty much picked at random and will bother you with P.S.’s about in the coming hours.
Ah, fuck it: it’s you. I thought Billy…?
Oh, hells yeah, he worked my sack: I’ll never play the harmonica again, but as it turns out, you can’t truly fire me.
We are the same person. It’s just…it’s just that the fonts change, buddy.
Why won’t you play along?
Oh, I’m sorry, man.
—you do this–
And it’s why we can’t have fun, y’know?
So, let’s have fun!
I want to go skiing.
We’re gonna go skiing.
YOU KNOW I HATE SKIING!
OKAY, EVERYONE OUT OF THE POOL.