All hands are on deck of this ship of fools, fellow Enthusiasts: ideas, hosannas, and nifty artifacts streaming in over the digital transom from Friends of TotD.

This one comes from Mr Completely, head of the Interdimensional Affairs Desk operating out of the satellite office in Fillmore Northwest, where a Gore-Tex fetish is a helpful acquisition and soccer is openly tolerated.

It’s a decent show, for an ’85 right before Garcia went night-night. But the fun is watching Bobby stop merely comprehending gravity: finally he would understand it.

Watch, starts around 53:30:

So, Bobby goes to do The Lunge, which–and, being a Bobby Man as I am, this pains me to say–Bobby is the only one in the room not getting the joke on.  Bobby, the cheering you heard for The Lunge was sarcastic: I am sorry to have to be the one to break this to you. Everyone forgave you immediately after it happened, but if it had not have happened at all, people would have been cool with that, if you’re reading me on this one.

Anyhoo, the best part isn’t watching Bobby fall (which is , obviously, hilarious in and of itself), no; it’s the direct aftermath, when by means of body language and general rocking, Bobby attempts to convince the crowd that he intended to fly ass-over-teakettle to celebrate Estimated changing keys.

Who goofed on Bobby the longest for this? You’d think Mickey, right? Seems like some Mickey shit to do, but in reality: Phil still brings this up to this day; it was part of a horrific fight on the last Furthur tour. They were drinking green tea in their hotel suite. (Bobby and Phil share a room on the road; in fact, they share bunk beds.)

“This is delicious honey,” said Bobby.

“Why did you call me honey?” said Phil.

“I didn’t. I said that the honey was delicious, not that–”

“It makes me uncomfortable when you call me honey,” said Phil.

“–you were my…what’s happening here?”

“Hey,” Phil said. “Who am I: ‘My time coming, any day. Don’tWHAUUUUGH!’ I’m down! Bobby down, repeat: Bobby down!”

“Why do you always go there? You’re not my Garcia! YOU’RE NOT MY GARCIA!”