Yeah. Dead’s a good fucking band.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah. Breathed our share of fire. Got the party going, kids dancing.”
Never rode any giant inflatable penises.
“Not onstage, no.”
Checked out the Dark Star from the Winterland ’73 box.
Y’know how good it was?
It was as good as a water park is supposed to be. Not the critical mass of fat fucks soaking in hot urine that it actually is, but the one from the commercial where it’s just an orgy of slip-slidey funtastic-ness and stone-cold bikini foxes.
“Yeah. We’re, um, we’re the Grateful motherfucking Dead, man.”
Well, the Stones are the Greatest Rock Band in the World.
“Who gives a shit about the world? We’re the best American band.”
You’re cursing more than usual.
“Got me a bit riled with this. Stones. Buncha swells and sissies.”
All right, buddy.
“Lemme find my bliss.”
Did you check your other jeans?
“For the last time, they were sold to me as a lengthy short.”
Hair looks good.
“Big-Dicked Sheila said it made me seem youthful.”
It does, but y’know what doesn’t?
Using the word “youthful”.