Thoughts On The Dead

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

Cash Or Trade For Your Extra

So. There’s this.

Stubhub only tells part of the story; many places on the interweb allow for a barter economy and in the past 24 hours, these are some of the items offered for Santa Clara Dead tickets:

  • Gram of ridiculously high quality cannabis.
  • Eighth of icky that is sticky, to be sure, but not as sticky as possible.
  • Ounce of the stanky skank.
  • Box of Newport 100 cigarettes with three cigs and some flakka in it.
  • Half-pound of lox. (Lox is obscenely expensive.)
  • Tank of gas, if you negotiate and have a small car.
  • Tugger, calloused hand and you don’t get to choose the gender or age of whose doing the tugging.
  • Tugger, you get to choose the gender but the hand is prosthetic.
  • Tugger with a smooth, lubed-up hand but it’s Hitler.
  • (If you would like to name your punk band Nazi Handjob, you may. In fact: please do.)
  • Tank of propane.
  • You said “and propane accessories,” didn’t you? Predictable.
  • A ride to, but not across, the border.
  • Entry to a mid-level water park. (Tuesdays-Thursdays only.)
  • A night’s worth of shitty beer at a dive bar.
  • A round’s worth of Heineken at a drinking establishment fit for women and children.
  • Half-a-glass of ultra-bitter bullshit at a place full of bearded pedants who want to lecture you about whatever the fuck a “bock” is.
  • 870 trillion Zimdollars.
  • Five minutes in the koala pit.
  • This is a trick. Never go in the koala pit, because koalas are too dumb to know how to be nice and will slice you with their claws, and getting mauled by a koala is like being molested by Spider-Man. There is more than one trust being broken.
  • Plus, don’t koalas have AIDS? I read that somewhere.
  • So, they’ll let you in the koala pit for a cool Jackson, but then the koalas attack you and they charge you, like, a few thousand to get out, plus you now have KAIDS, which will be very expensive.
  • It’s a money-loser from start to finish.
  • You can bowl free, but not if it’s a league night, and only at a real bowling alley where veterans are smoking at the bar and the soda machine drops a paper cup onto the grate and then shpritzes out your drink and the Shine-O-Ball-O and the ancient plaques for 300 bowlers and the grilled cheese sandwiches on paper plates.
  • You can’t bowl free at Peter Shapiro’s joint, is what I’m saying.
  • Haircut, white guy. (I legitimately cannot and will not speak for anyone else on this one.)
  • Personal call from Lou Ferrigno.
  • Three sets of guitar strings, Ernie Ball slinky.
  • Fuck it: super-slinky.


  1. Chlamydia, not AIDS, I believe.

  2. All the confederate flags in South Carolina

  3. Complete collection of Matlock season one on Betamax cassettes. C’mon spencer, cough up those tix. hahaha.

  4. Can I trade super hugs for tickets? Anybody?

  5. Nazi Handjob sounds like a punk band to me? Or perhaps acid jazz?

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