Thoughts On The Dead

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

End Of The Rainbow

TotD, despite his nigh-on-sexual longing to get the hell back in bed, instead does the job no one else will do and hunts down the real stories and puts his journalism degree (honest) to good use.

I have with me now–EXCLUSIVELY– the star of last night’s show, Rainbow That Everyone Assumed Was Garcia.

Mr. Was Garcia?

“Call me Rainbow.”

Thanks, Rainbow. The Enthusiasts have only one question: are you actually Garcia?

“Oh, no. Sorry to disappoint: just a random, but fortuitous, meteorological phenomenon.”


“Not to be a diva or anything, but could you use the other picture? I look so fat up there.”

Sure, sorry.

Awesome shot of the rainbow over

“There ya go. I’m off gluten: lost forty pounds.”

Good for you!

“Acid reflux has completely disappeared.”

That’s great.

“I know, right? Dig it.”


“Um, nothing. Just a trick of the light.”


“Photons bouncing off water vapor in the air.”




I cannot have this talk with you again about the timestreams and not fucking with them.

“I’m a goddam rainbow, man! No one knew it was me.”


“Well, yeah, but they didn’t have, you know: proof, man.”

You’ve got Cheetos in your rainbow beard.

“Aw, dammit.”

Last chance, Garcia. Stop showing up as different facets of nature. You’re not Zeus.

“Well, I’m not gonna swan-rape anyone.”

“Billy might.”

Billy might.

“Just gonna say this once: the entire time I was alive, he never got within ten feet of a microphone.”


“Fuck, no.”


  1. Joking aside, that rainbow was the sort of magical mystic moment that people build religions around.

    Improbably spooky amounts of unrelated stuff had to come together to make that happy.

  2. also the irony that the people who paid for seats behind the band couldn’t see the rainbow either…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.