Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Car Talk



“Where’s Phil? Wasn’t he coming with you?”

“Me? No, Bob. You were gonna pick him up because his damn Lotus broke down again.”

“That thing ever work? What happened to it this time?”

“He put it into fourth and the spare tire exploded.”

“Well, there’s your problem.”

“British craftsmanship at its finest.”


  1. “Hey, Garcia, you wanna be in the Grateful Dead?”

    “I already did that, man.”

    “Oh yeah, sorry I forgot. We’re havin’ 50th anniversary shows in Chicago.”

    “Fer what?”

    “Well, you know, money, and shit, man.”

    “Where I’m at, I don’t need any money, ever.”

    “Hmmm…is that why you named it the grateful dead?”

    “Shut the fuck up Weir, you’re killin’ my high, man!”

  2. Each of these possibilities are equally disturbing: is Billy (a) picking his own toe jam, or (b) holding hands with Garcia…?

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