Billy’s punching himself in the dick; he got bored, I guess.
In my heart of hearts, I wish that were a Planet Hollywood jacket on Garcia, but it probably isn’t.
“Jerrrrrrrrry. Where. Is. My. Nobel. I wan’ one. Gimme.”
“I don’t think you’re getting any sort of prize, Pete.”
“Hey. Jer. You wan’ come look a’ stuff on my ‘puter?”
This is the photograph that would scuttle any Presidential run by Billy:
“Can you explain the gesture, Mr. Kreutzmann?”
“Ahh, c’mon. It was locker room stuff! My finger was a dick! And I was banging Bobby’s pussy-fingers with it. Everybody does it! Also, this photo has been doctored by the Jews.”
Pete Townshend is so drunk he can’t make a peace sign.