I knew a boy named Mickey,
Guess you could say he was a drum fiend.
I met him in a hotel lobby,
SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT THE FUCK NOW, FUCKER.
*Phrase stolen from the great Jesse Jarnow, who is on the West Coast promoting his book Heads: A Biography of Psychedelic America, and will be sitting down with Dead archivist Nicholas Meriweather on Thursday to talk about some old band or something. Go see them and ask ridiculous questions and insist that the shit I made up is real.